OK, So I wrote this last night when I was baked out of my mind..

...It's, well interesting to say the least. I know there is a forum for art and shit like that on here, but I have some questions too.

Have any of you ever wrote something (even if it sucked) while you were high?

I don't write, I mean, I hated english when I was still in school, but sometimes when I'm high I find my self writing some ridicoulus poems/songs etc.

Well, here it is:

i remember before i let my mind open up
i was a closed book, trippin on roads rook
back in the woods, lost at the stream
wishing on lost dreams and i felt like i had no cause
i was living life, living on rewind and pause
i never questioned any rules, we were governed by laws
that were put in place, just for this case, but quickly corrupted by
corporate scum bags, trying to get that mad cash, how long will it last

but later that day, in that same place
where i was lost in the woods
i meet an old man
red as he looked, and tall as he stood
wisdom with his age
i listened to all that i could
and just when i was certain that he was done
he pulled out a pipe of peace
and i seemed abit confused, drugs were bad, or so said mom and dad
and im sure they are right, but some drugs are good, no one can argue with that
so maybe this stuff isn't so bad? the Cherokee man swore it was alright

and as we passed it around, his stories seemed to change, real as they became
i learned that day, what life is all about
and staring at that stream, where everything seemed to confuse, i felt at ease
peaceful as the late afternoon breeze and the leaves began to blow and every thing
just flowed, i turned to thank my Native American friend, but he was gone, quick as he came
like he was never even there, but i will never forget that expressionist face
and now sometimes i think about where that Native American went
as i sit, and take in another hit, and as im thrown into a fit
of bliss, but i feel slightly sad, or even a bit mad
because there was so much more information that that Native Indian man had

if it weren't for that man, i would be damned
for you see, i got to that stream by following a creek
i didn't plan to ever leave, it was the end of the line
i was fed up, and tired of slowly dying, nothing seemed to be fine
and the choice was mine, but it was just before I did the deed
when words of wisdom were spoken to me

Happy Toking.