Verbal herbs infused with an om I will create. A soothing ointment for the world to hear. I shall lace it with light song. loving breath, and the essence of lotus.
My herbs are free for the asking just focus and breath it in. Let it soak into bloodstream and flood your heart. Allow its mixture to enhance your being by releasing old mind pattens unneeded. Let it pour onto eyes aimed at precious mind so doubts and fears are dropped.
My herbs are sacred permeated from the loving shadows of angels for inner peace to anchor.
Its remedy will reborn one into their divine self. Its cure will relieve any troublesome journey. Even that of the writer.
Smoke Scribe a grand writer who, inspired me. Thanks
No her name didn’t start with an “S” or “K” Her first name started with an “M” and last name started with a “J” She was such a beauty, all crystalline sometimes and no makeup ever hid her face She was different , her green composure sometimes found a little purple lingering adding taste She was flexible , I could make love to her anyway I want , in a bowl, a ****, wraps, or even create my own ways I was 13 years old when we first met , she nearly took my life with the first breath Choking from how strong she hugged my lungs I knew she was the best She made me laugh from the first kiss until I went to sleep in my cloud-like bed Some years have passed now and we’ve decided to get married since then From first sight, first touch, first kiss, first hug, I knew Mary Jane would be my first love and even a better friend. If we ever tend to split I know she’s my first from beginning to end.
I once played a game of cards with the devil, under a blood red moon upon the lake of our lady Babylon. With a grin, the devil did win, for his hand had totally waisted me.
Shower time- It's better than normal time. Especially with the smell of herb in your head. Step out. Dry off. Hit the herb again. It's time to start the day.
I ingest 3 cups of coffee, and hit the herb again. Then I start my day. I go out into the world. Out there where it is cold. Out there to slave the day away just to do it again the next day.
Please tell me that there is something more than this. I beg, but I get nothing.Maybe in the end, that is all there really is... Nothing. This thought's cold logic sinks in, and I am sick.
Sick of things done in repetition to no end. Tired of hearing the same one line joke day in and day out.
Welcome to my store.
Can I get you any more?
Thank you, come again... and again... and again...
I can not take it any more!
Oh, wait! It's time to clock out.
Hear how the pen scratches the paper. Rolling on fragments of thought. Dripping with the same ink as yesterday. I am bleeding all over this notebook. Could I ever write loud enough, so that somebody could hear me screaming?
I once played a game of cards with the devil, under a blood red moon upon the lake of our lady Babylon. Plain and clean, the devil's hand was mean, for it had totally waisted me.
blessed green herb your sent easily reckoned haze of grey fill the air spark me once again take a **** inhale the smoke infiltrate my ribcage like a dungeon entrap the perception of your psyche become who i am and what i want temporarily fill the hole in my being
As gunfire round position was hostile to foment a spider there against its mayhem while Miranda made us brighter if a discriminate cry ready as toll cross nation yet deliberate soliloquy aside blue smoke.