Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

A bud
sans pipe.
Think of it.
Now this is tragedy.
Picture me, wishing
woefully,
if only I could just
get high
on it's smell.
(It has a glorious smell)
You know,
I've lived through
many equations
my friends,
but this one
beats em all.
A big, juicy
fragrant bud,
right here
in my hand,
no pipe
to smoke it in.
It's a metaphor
of glorious
unthinkableness.
Tragedy quadrupled.
A perfect place
for those red curtains
to sweepingly close.
The perfect cue
for you,
my beloved audience,
to shuffle out,
stunned,
appreciative,
silent.
Fini.

ok!

how do you say marijuana in spanish? somehow, theda, i think you'll
work it out. i believe in you.

gotta beer can?

the only thing sadder than a bud sans pipe
is a pipe sans bud

where there's a will, there's a way hest

aluminum foil
inverted glass
adventures await

if necessity is the mother of invention
and a beautiful bud is in your possession
let the grandeur of potential intoxication
stimulate the seeds of your imagination.

good stuff, hest....i have faith in you.....

Don't ask me why, but right now, reading your responses, my heart is full...
I feel a tribal sense of delight.
Thanks youse
H

an apple works too

Nature finds a way..

ahhh hester, it's always a pleasure to read you...smiling at this one, and you.

Hes', Hes'...

It's a metaphor
of glorious
unthinkableness.

now that! so fine... glorious unthinkableness. i found that better than a bud tonight, i did.

another cool read. TY!

she inhales flowers
glorius. juicy. strong
don't close the curtain
i wan't to see everything