I wrote all this about 20 minutes ago after hitting 1 hell of a gravity bong. It just flowed, so naturally....

The herb is like a shotgun, that frees us all from death
As we, so choked, are bothered oft with breath,
Sight and sound is one and all, and knowledge is a lie,
And birth is open and ornate and none there is can die,
??The herb has powers,? spoke the son, ??that never man can grasp,
For merit is not measured by ability to gasp,
Though gasp indeed can merit truth, for reaction is benign,
So long as fear of judgment do not seek to herd in line
The shadows of the cornfield do creepeth in the night,
And fleeting song of robin doth beckon all to light,
For such an ornate mixture puzzlement cannot mend,
For pick and chair and orange and cat cannot conceive this blend,
And there are, my father, flowers that do grow between the trees,
Disturbed by none, save ever oft a silent, fleeting breeze,
That hold within them power such that mystics gaze in awe,
For there is none that can override another, for in some mind or entity it is worshipped as its victor is, and high upon the hills of the darkness of the shadow, creatures stray that may never be named. One cannot but amaze at the brutality of these creatures?until it befall that they are themselves. These thoughts have not rhymed for some time, because things come and go and forcing them is the worst thing someone can do. Fate is a devious ally, for fate has an odd knack for surprising you. Convention is an incredible thing, for man judges others by their complementation of themselves, and how smoothly and earthly their essences flow in relation to their own. Philosophers often concern themselves with why things work the way they are in the governing of existence, but few indeed consider what purpose is served by existence at all. For existence is everywhere, and separate from all, though all belongs to it; talk is often made of an incredible trombone that evaporates every six years into Bangladesh. The Bangladesihians promptly told those responsible to fuck themselves, and were henceforth tea-bagged by the American government for disturbing their cock-sucking revenues. Just so we??re clear, that refers to nothing. All is fleeting, and one can wonder whether any moment in time truly exists, and for such is the fleeting that nothing can be experienced until it is vanished, even though it only corresponds to split-seconds in our minds. Therefore memories are all exist, and even they are fleeting, for by the time you have recalled a memory and re-experienced it another flash

Knowledge is what bars us from learning.

Nothing is at

2 stoners, or a few more, gathered around a fridge looking at the munchies?camera angle from fridge??s point of view?.they move on?.Black dude with afro: ??Man I don??t like them hot dogs, man?they have eyes.? Friends nod as they move on?
cannabis=freedom Reviewed by cannabis=freedom on . Some stuff I just wrote high... I wrote all this about 20 minutes ago after hitting 1 hell of a gravity bong. It just flowed, so naturally.... The herb is like a shotgun, that frees us all from death As we, so choked, are bothered oft with breath, Sight and sound is one and all, and knowledge is a lie, And birth is open and ornate and none there is can die, ??The herb has powers,? spoke the son, ??that never man can grasp, For merit is not measured by ability to gasp, Though gasp indeed can merit truth, for Rating: 5