This was written in my notebook the other night, during a bluelight filled afterparty at my place. The author, however, is not a bluelighter, but is a friend who lives downstairs from me. This, was apparently the extent of his thought process amidst the vacuum sound of 11 bluelighters and a lot of k (some of which was partaken by said friend, and may be responsible for some of the nonsense to follow). But anyways, he read it aloud for me later, and it struck me as very cool in my stoned stupor, and now that I'm in another stoned stupor, I choose to share it with you.
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all across these lands, stranded and branded by the sordid sight, I've traveled.
Well, unraveled as it may well be.
I've peered into this and that.
And, I'd say that my hands are somewhat weathered.
Of all I've seen, the sun does gleam. Sometimes it seems to make me split at the seams, followed viciously by rapturious floods of beauty.
Loopy am I as I try to spy that spectacular spectacle.
The Natural Way.
This brings me bliss.
It shows me the key to reality because it leads for me by example.
This provides... ample resource for my discourse.
Just look around.
Absorb the natural flow and the natural way.
You can see it in anything, thoughts tainted by humanity's horrific decision to posess.
But then, that's another story entirely.
Clearly, I could explain this, all this through an undulation of some certain fibers which would of course, be measured to the nth degree taking into account all sorts of overtones and whatnot.
OK, if you haven't understood a word of what I've said, that's understandable, but the point is this: bliss cannot be had on scientifical terms.
Happiness will merely cease and desist, leaving behind one destitute and resolute to remain craving the cacauphonic creations of our time.
This will only draw you to darkness, so mark my method.
Romanticism reaches rapture rapidly, thruthfully, but can also sail away.........
underground. Find the middle ground, alright I'm out.
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I dunno, it sounds real cool out loud.
Funny what a little kitty and a little herb will leave you with.
bc
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bc-
s^8^ represent.
"Fuck PLUR! it's all about hardcore ass fucking!!"
'I think, therefore I fuck up.'
"drug suppliers, typically wearing 'Ecko' brand sweat shirts shuffle around the dance floor, chanting softly, 'want some pills? k?'" - Shu Shin Luh, The Chicago Sun-Times
[This message has been edited by bc (edited 14 March 2001).]
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
all across these lands, stranded and branded by the sordid sight, I've traveled.
Well, unraveled as it may well be.
I've peered into this and that.
And, I'd say that my hands are somewhat weathered.
Of all I've seen, the sun does gleam. Sometimes it seems to make me split at the seams, followed viciously by rapturious floods of beauty.
Loopy am I as I try to spy that spectacular spectacle.
The Natural Way.
This brings me bliss.
It shows me the key to reality because it leads for me by example.
This provides... ample resource for my discourse.
Just look around.
Absorb the natural flow and the natural way.
You can see it in anything, thoughts tainted by humanity's horrific decision to posess.
But then, that's another story entirely.
Clearly, I could explain this, all this through an undulation of some certain fibers which would of course, be measured to the nth degree taking into account all sorts of overtones and whatnot.
OK, if you haven't understood a word of what I've said, that's understandable, but the point is this: bliss cannot be had on scientifical terms.
Happiness will merely cease and desist, leaving behind one destitute and resolute to remain craving the cacauphonic creations of our time.
This will only draw you to darkness, so mark my method.
Romanticism reaches rapture rapidly, thruthfully, but can also sail away.........
underground. Find the middle ground, alright I'm out.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I dunno, it sounds real cool out loud.
bc
------------------
bc-
s^8^ represent.
"Fuck PLUR! it's all about hardcore ass fucking!!"
'I think, therefore I fuck up.'
"drug suppliers, typically wearing 'Ecko' brand sweat shirts shuffle around the dance floor, chanting softly, 'want some pills? k?'" - Shu Shin Luh, The Chicago Sun-Times
[This message has been edited by bc (edited 14 March 2001).]
