Introspections written when high

I wrote something the last time I was high that isn't making a whole lot of sense to me at the moment....

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…

 

it looketh good. it looketh ripe. next time you write, please put down the pipe.

 

I like it.

 

Haha, I know it's meaning isn't exactly clear...I am convinced that it does have some, though.

 

na i actually did like it. maybe it just needs some refinement to make it clear. what you wrote COULD be saying something. it's just that i'd probably need to be high to get it.

 

i made some sense of it.
It was very interesting.
Good job!
~Jen

 

Man, I think that there are many things a person has to be high to get. This is likely one of them.

 

The only reason that this would be good when a person is high is because everything is good when a person is high.

 

ever read the constitution...on weed?

 

I liked that =D

 

I'm not half so think as you stoned I am.

 

And another thing 'introspection' can't be plural. But I guess it doesn't matter when you're high.

 

some of it made sense to me, and I haven't been high in ages.

 

Very interesting.............but stupid.

Nah, just kidding. It's very odd, in a good way.

One of my friends were stoned a while back, and they wrote this weird story about someone hijacking an ambulance while the EMT's in the back were shooting morphine, and there was some seriously injured man screaming in pain because the EMT's were taking all the pain meds.

It was odd.

 

Content aside, you win some points on good meter and rhyme.

pick and chair and orange and cat cannot conceive this blend
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Sorry, this line loses me. I can't conceive this blend either.

 

"One of my friends were stoned... and they wrote..." This would refer to he, him and himself, all three of them?

 

Well, touche, I should read my posts before I post them. What I should've written was "One of my friends was stoned... and he wrote..."