Marijuana.com - Creative Writing http://www.marijuana.com Forum for member short stories, limericks, poems, and other products of the Creative Process. en Fri, 20 Nov 2009 23:09:14 GMT vBulletin 60 http://www.marijuana.com/images/misc/rss.jpg Marijuana.com - Creative Writing http://www.marijuana.com What we are into. http://www.marijuana.com/creative-writing/134222-what-we-into.html Wed, 18 Nov 2009 05:52:18 GMT Now I dunno about you guys but I'm into all kinds of crazy stuff. I like rainy nights with no cars in sight. I'm into slow dreary jazz that makes me want to drink. These long jazzy winter nights, vision blurred. This hazy winter vision has me searchin for love and lust. Nights with soft piano melodies drifting slowing through the cold delicate winter air. These are the times with christmas light about. This time of year has me in such a frame of mind I love being in. Broken hearts, broken bones, and their repair. I sip on something different everytime it seems. Always strong, always a man's drink. Always alone. Always lonesome. I take another drink and eventually smoke a spliff. Of course the weed is of highest quality available, otherwise I would not be satisfied. These nights have me thinkin way too much. Why do I always put myself back in this mood, this funk. Im into the "nighttime yellow" and late night drinks with me and myself. ]]> Creative Writing Mister Dean http://www.marijuana.com/creative-writing/134222-what-we-into.html Fingers http://www.marijuana.com/creative-writing/134000-fingers.html Sat, 14 Nov 2009 20:46:35 GMT Hey guys, i'm sort of new to writing, but i like writing poems/lyrics alot. ive wrote about only 6 or so songs but heres one i sorta like.

was listening to Tales of Brave Ulysses by Cream when i wrote this one, opinions?

Things are moving slow
Your fingers appear to grow
Feel yourself let goo…

Ya slide through the green
Taste the blue between
Look through the purple
That always goes unseen

Sliding through the light
Give into the fight…
Nothing seems right…
Been smoking?
I think soo…

Things are moving slow
Your fingers appear to grow
Feel yourself let goo…

Feeling out of breath
Wanna die a violent death?
I think sooo…

Lights become bright…
Fade from the line of sight…
Patterns fade away
Feel yourself turn gray…
Feel yourself let goo…

The blue becomes tight…
The red stretches like lonely nights…
The green just obscene…
Feel yourself let goo…


Things are moving slow
Your fingers appear to grow
Feel yourself let goo… ]]> Creative Writing kronik http://www.marijuana.com/creative-writing/134000-fingers.html Outdone-Lyrics! http://www.marijuana.com/creative-writing/133947-outdone-lyrics.html Sat, 14 Nov 2009 00:03:51 GMT Hey again, Marijuana.com! I just wrote another song whilst high as a kite and it is pretty good! Well, at least I think so. It has a bit of a Jimi Hendrix guitar feel, but with RHCP type lyrics. I've been listening to them way too much so they'll have alot of influence on this song. Red Hot Chili Peppers I'm meaning.

So here it is, Outdone!

:Outdone:


All the smoking junkies in the street,
Broken glass keeps cutting through my feet,
I never thought to retreat,
I never thought to repeat!
Walk the alleys I never fear,
The darkness was my premier,
I never though you were sincere,
Every time you shed just a tear!
Your code is to live by the gun,
But even still your death's begun,
I never thought you'd be outrun,
I never thought you'd be outdone!

Hold out, for that next hit,
Don't cry, don't you have a fit,
It's coming now this next kiss,
Alot of a bliss ending with a twist,
It's just like a deep kiss,
Something you just don't wanna miss,
Even flying through the abyss,
You don't got the time to reminisce!

All my, devotion,
Lacks in all emotion,
I caused all that commotion,
Only for my own promotion,
It's got a lack of the motion,
One with alot of notion,
Drinking out of that potion,
It's like I'm moving in slow motion!

My teeth always grind,
With all those drugs I've combined,
I never thought to Unwined,
I never thought to Nevermind!
Running through to supply,
Every day I never did cry,
Even though you never reply,
I always got high!
Your code is to live by the sword,
Just to have your arm restored,
I never thought you'd record,
I never thought you'd be ignored!

All my, devotion,
Lacks in all emotion,
I caused all that commotion,
Only for my own promotion,
It's got a lack of the motion,
One with alot of notion,
Drinking out of that potion,
It's like I'm moving in slow motion!


]]> Creative Writing Hour http://www.marijuana.com/creative-writing/133947-outdone-lyrics.html Chemical Smile-Lyrics! http://www.marijuana.com/creative-writing/133916-chemical-smile-lyrics.html Fri, 13 Nov 2009 07:13:43 GMT
CHEMICAL SMILE


I have the breath of 10,000 smokers
I don't have angels that cry
I walk the streets in a dark desert city
But still I have that Chemical Smile

I have a little, A little Chemical Romance
I love the sound, Playing in My Garden
A little boy wearing Velvet, Runs in the Underground!
Yet Still, I have that Chemical Smile

A little Girl, Tiny Iron Maiden
She looks through, The Doors
Poor Alice, She's wrapped up in chains again
Even now, I have that chemical Smile

I'm still Young, Just a bit Tired and Crazy
And I, Ohh, Oh I wish you were here
But all my rage, Yeah it just fuels the machine
I don't want, this chemical smile no more, oh no


I'm Black and Scorched,
Gone to the grave by my own Sabbath
I kill with guns
But apologize with Roses
I'm done, with this fucking chemical smile of mine

the Autumns Gone, Burnt into Ashes
The Spring has Faded, Left the land side Jaded
The Summer flew, yet I knew...
It was all too good to be true


Ripped from me!
Torn from me!
Stolen from me!
{Goes to soft assss but gets louder}
I don't...
I don't...
I don't...
I DON'T HAVE A SMILE!

I don't have, My smile no more...
]]> Creative Writing Hour http://www.marijuana.com/creative-writing/133916-chemical-smile-lyrics.html <![CDATA["Movies are bad-ass"]]> http://www.marijuana.com/creative-writing/133572-movies-bad-ass.html Sun, 08 Nov 2009 17:43:25 GMT Not my actual title.

It's another college essay I wrote, can someone critique it grammatically/structurally/contentwise?

------------------
I woke up to a scene of sheer terror. The movie theatre was ablaze; hundreds trapped inside. The piercing screams of the occupants of the theatre was only outmatched by the maniacal laughter I heard in the background.

And there I was, in my room, in front of my computer, “Inglorious Basterds” playing on the glowing screen. The movie theatre still ablaze, the occupants still screaming, the laughter still in the background – it just wasn’t real. It was part of a movie, a movie that rekindled my love for film.

I didn’t actually lose my love for film before I saw Inglorious Basterds; it was more like it was put on hold to explore my other interests. Inglorious Basterds was just the catalyst that triggered my interest in film’s resurgence. It reminded me of everything I loved about movies, and reminded me why I liked movies in the first place (yes, it was that good).

I guess I should explain how I got interested in movies in the first place: way back in the year 2007, I saw the movie Knocked Up. Now I know that most film lovers may look back at classics like Citizen Kane or 2001: A Space Odyssey and talk about how those movies sparked their interest in film, but not me. It was Knocked Up, a raunchy sex-comedy starring Seth Rogen and directed by Judd Apatow.

A couple of months later the 2-disc special edition DVD was released and I was in a world of ecstasy. I’m almost certain that I’ve watched the entire DVD (bonus features and all) more times than I’ve watched any other movie, ever. I was mesmerized by the entire film: how it was made, why it was made, the actors in the movie, the people behind the movie; everything.

I’m not that sure why I love all of these aspects of film, but the simplest answer is: it’s fun. Seeing the behind the scenes is entertaining. Watching “good” movies is enthralling. I love looking up so-called “classics” or “masterpieces” and watching them, and then I try to see why they are considered masterpieces. I like to watch HBO and see for myself why Saving Private Ryan is hailed by critics and why Catwoman is panned. I love watching a movie for its entertainment value, and then watching it again to analyze why it was so good (or bad).

This is why Inglorious Basterds reignited my passion for film: it was just that good. It was a movie that (in my opinion, of course) managed to create a story so compelling with characters so intriguing, that I couldn’t keep a smile off my face. I loved the movie because it was superb in its entertainment, but I also loved analyzing why this movie was so superb: why I loved these characters, why I loved the story. It was the first movie that I had seen in theaters that had ever done that for me, for in the past I had to rely on movie-channels and DVDs.

As far as my future goes, I don’t know what I want to do with movies, and I might not even go into a career involving film at all. My career path can lead me to writing or directing or critiquing or producing or editing films or something entirely different, but my passion for films will never change. I will always be entranced by the awe-inspiring grandeur of the movies. And should I end up in a career that doesn’t involve film, I can always pride myself on being a film connoisseur (well, pseudo-connoisseur). ]]> Creative Writing yoman3 http://www.marijuana.com/creative-writing/133572-movies-bad-ass.html Start of my adventure. http://www.marijuana.com/creative-writing/133192-start-my-adventure.html Tue, 03 Nov 2009 07:22:11 GMT True story I just started writing it, pretty bored and I love thinking of good times. give me tips, maybe add more detail on our tokes or conversations. feedback is wanted. I tried to keep it simple.

High Times


Just another day…

I awoke to the sound of barking dogs outside. I felt like I woke up for the first time, my eyes hurt and so does my head, its like an accountant cranking in my head. I walk down the stairs still rubbing my eyes. Stepping over the beer cans and empty food wrappers I look over to see the time, the clock face with a tired and stoned expression said 11:43am.

I continued down stairs to locate my sleeping friends, all of them still in their clothes. I started to grin as I shaked my friend, he opened his eyes with hesitation and looked at me, we exchanged looks for a good 5 seconds and I gave him a big grin and said “hey Tyron, wake n bake”. He smiled back and got up rustling off couple empty baggies and food crumbles. We both looked like we hadn’t slept all night, on the contrary we both passed out after a night of drinking and smoking at around 3am.

We head to our smoking room. Once we entered it was still scented with pot and filled with empty baggies, matches, rubbish, ash, roaches, lighters, coins and of course a sleeping stoner. Not bothering to wake him up we just laugh and walk across to the cupboard and grab the lighter and bong load a cone and pass it to my friend, a good friend lets his friend go first. I begin to light our sweet dank and thick grey smoke filters through our yellow ash infested water into the bong. A Spark shots down and all the ash is cleared. He releases the shotty and inhales. He holds it in and exhales, we smile at each other and he gives me the bong. I put it down.

I walk over to the sound system and play Hits from the Bong by Cypress Hill. Bass pumping hard and enough weed to last us the whole day. I turn around to see 3 of my friends come into the room and Shaun on the floor gets up, instead of been unhappy with the noise he smiles and says “Wake n Bake I see", “fuck yeah” we say. Shaun says nothing else squeezes past the stoners blocking the doorway and calls them over.

Confused I look back at Tyron who has it loaded for me. I grab the bong and rip the fucker. Toke it hard and inhale. Hits me straight away and everything is just good. Exhale a ghost hit and Tyron laughs I smile and walk towards the door but stopped as 4 of my friend brought in chairs. We all smile and laugh hard. Circle! We pull a chair up each and sit down. Table in the middle with atleast 10 grams of good dank ready to smoke and two bongs.

All of us sit down and fish out couple lighters. We begin a rotation. We laugh, pull cones, talk, bitch about waking up and eating left over chips or anything we can find. Music still pumping with Kottenmouth kings and hotboxing the entire room.






An hour later we smoke about 6 grams and all blazed as fuck. David gets up to go piss, so does Mary and CJ. Rest of us are sitting there laughing and fucking around. I close my eyes and travel through time and space.

For about 5 minutes I trip out. Opening my eyes as I suddenly get call, Tim and Tyron both look at me interested, I answer my phone with a “Whatzzuppp”. After a quick call I look up at tyron and say, Delivery time. He smiles and I say, Steven wants half an ounce. Tim grins and walks to the other room. We follow and greet the rest who are either eating, traveling through space or playing guitar hero.

I saw with a grin at my stoned friends, who wants food? Everyone smiles and says me!me!. I laugh and take out an ounce from the drawer. They ask why I said, I’ll be back in 20 minutes with food. We all exchange smiles and couple giggling stoners go back to their game. Me, Tyron and Shaun walk up the stairs. We walk across the road and get into our recently purchased 400$ Ford Falcon 1990. Stolen License plates, no rego and broken window. We start and drive off through the streets. Shaun pulls out some cigarettes and all of us have a smoke. Laughing and tripping out, Tyron drives while we admire the world and its beauty.

We roll up to the station, Blazed as fuck I feel like I am swimming, so we pump the music because we forgot to do it while driving. Smiling I see Steven walking from the train. I wave and get out of the car. He hands me the money and he gets his nice dank and smiles. We make some small talk and I invite him into the car. He knew we where stoned as fuck and knew what was coming. Shaun pulls out the Car Bong and we start the car, drive to a car park and start toking.

After about 10 minutes of good times he says hes gotta jet and we say our goodbyes. Back on the road blazed and laughing smiling the whole time pull up at Dominos. I order about 100$ worth of food and we have a 20 min wait. Of course we don’t wait, I make a call and push the last half ounce to 3 people in the area who are more than glad to get some fresh dank. We get back in time and pick up the pizza. Our car now smells like pot and pizza. A wonderful smell I must say. ]]> Creative Writing 024 http://www.marijuana.com/creative-writing/133192-start-my-adventure.html NaNoWriMo? http://www.marijuana.com/creative-writing/133147-nanowrimo.html Mon, 02 Nov 2009 21:00:40 GMT Anyone doing this? I started today. I'm at 2,027 words! The goal is to write a 175-page (50,000-word) novel by midnight, November 30. I'm lisheal7 on there, if anyone wants a writing buddy. Mine is going to be autobiographical, since that's really the only thing I could talk about for 50,000 words. I think it'll be about all the fun stuff I did with my friends this summer. We went on a few road trips and I learned a lot. I want it to be funny, though. And of course, the ganj is my muse. :) Cheers. (Sorry if it's been mentioned and I didn't notice...)

National Novel Writing Month ]]> Creative Writing saulpotter420 http://www.marijuana.com/creative-writing/133147-nanowrimo.html Gorag. http://www.marijuana.com/creative-writing/133094-gorag.html Mon, 02 Nov 2009 00:34:45 GMT This is a short piece of writting I had to do for english litterature 12, we had to write about a monster, we had just finished our part on beowulf and grendel. I got a good mark, and really enjoyed writting it, if you have any tips let me know :) Gorag opened his mouth wide and unleashed a high pitched wail, like a wounded animal. His long red tongue lopped wildly as his cry carried across the desert plains of Tatooni, spittle flying from his ragged mouth and raining down on the parched sand like a toxic shower. Gorag was a monster, but as far as monsters go, he was relatively harmless. He relied on his horrific screams to frighten the townspeople away, for if they were to ever draw close enough to see him, they would quickly realize that he could do them no harm. His teeth were small, flat and irregularly spaced, making it difficult for him to eat anything with more consistency than pudding. There was little chance that he could tear through the flesh of a supple-skinned wench, let alone the pierce the armour of a mighty warrior. Gorag lacked the intimidating height of the giant monsters to the north, and his spindly body and short stubby fingers were no match for the swords and arrows that humans brought down on the most powerful monsters in the land. Gorag in fact, was rather goofy looking, with a tiny sliver of a nose, unusually small ears, a strangely pronounced Adam’s apple, googly eyes, and virtually no body hair. Not only did this limit Gorag’s chances of ‘scoring with the ladies’ but his small ears and thin nose also resulted in a terrible sense of smell and hearing so bad he could barely hear his own inhuman cries. Gorag was doomed to live a life of loneliness for no one would approach him while he screamed and while his horrible cries kept him safe from fatal arrows, they also meant that he would never find love or the monster companionship he longed for. A gentle tear rolled down Gorag’s cheek falling to the sand below. He cried again, in anguish this time, his tears mixing with the spittle that flew off his vibrating tongue. This is a short piece of writting I had to do for english litterature 12, we had to write about a monster, we had just finished our part on beowulf and grendel. I got a good mark, and really enjoyed writting it, if you have any tips let me know :)


Gorag opened his mouth wide and unleashed a high pitched wail, like a wounded animal. His long red tongue lopped wildly as his cry carried across the desert plains of Tatooni, spittle flying from his ragged mouth and raining down on the parched sand like a toxic shower. Gorag was a monster, but as far as monsters go, he was relatively harmless. He relied on his horrific screams to frighten the townspeople away, for if they were to ever draw close enough to see him, they would quickly realize that he could do them no harm. His teeth were small, flat and irregularly spaced, making it difficult for him to eat anything with more consistency than pudding. There was little chance that he could tear through the flesh of a supple-skinned wench, let alone the pierce the armour of a mighty warrior.
Gorag lacked the intimidating height of the giant monsters to the north, and his spindly body and short stubby fingers were no match for the swords and arrows that humans brought down on the most powerful monsters in the land. Gorag in fact, was rather goofy looking, with a tiny sliver of a nose, unusually small ears, a strangely pronounced Adam’s apple, googly eyes, and virtually no body hair. Not only did this limit Gorag’s chances of ‘scoring with the ladies’ but his small ears and thin nose also resulted in a terrible sense of smell and hearing so bad he could barely hear his own inhuman cries.
Gorag was doomed to live a life of loneliness for no one would approach him while he screamed and while his horrible cries kept him safe from fatal arrows, they also meant that he would never find love or the monster companionship he longed for.
A gentle tear rolled down Gorag’s cheek falling to the sand below. He cried again, in anguish this time, his tears mixing with the spittle that flew off his vibrating tongue. ]]> Creative Writing Raptor Jesus http://www.marijuana.com/creative-writing/133094-gorag.html My dear old house. http://www.marijuana.com/creative-writing/132799-my-dear-old-house.html Wed, 28 Oct 2009 03:47:40 GMT Just a little descriptive story on my old house in Portland, Oregon. Let me know what you think Our luscious, green, and fertile yard made every day another adventure. Plants everywhere your eyes wandered. All across our backyard fence were vines of grapes mingling and weaving in and out, up and down, all throughout each square in the fence. The front yard fence on the other hand was much different; Covered with juicy blackberries that inevitably dripped and oozed dark juice all across any shirt i wore when i stopped by for a quick snack. On the east side of our two-story house were a few small apple trees. The apples these trees produced were mediocre and very small, though My brother and I would chomp and tear though them as if they were plump golden pears at some banquet. This yard, being located in Portland Oregon, always smelt of fresh, pure, sweet rain. The air was crisp, making every deep drawn breath refreshing and relaxing. Inside of our house the scent was more old-fashioned. Wooden floors would creak and moan every other step. This home of mine was the only I had ever lived in the have both an attic and basement which we would often have adventures in. This house, though i do not currently live in it, brings me some of the warmest childhood memories i can reach. Our neighborhood was quiet, as was our house. :rolleyes: Just a little descriptive story on my old house in Portland, Oregon. Let me know what you think




Our luscious, green, and fertile yard made every day another adventure. Plants everywhere your eyes wandered. All across our backyard fence were vines of grapes mingling and weaving in and out, up and down, all throughout each square in the fence. The front yard fence on the other hand was much different; Covered with juicy blackberries that inevitably dripped and oozed dark juice all across any shirt i wore when i stopped by for a quick snack.
On the east side of our two-story house were a few small apple trees. The apples these trees produced were mediocre and very small, though My brother and I would chomp and tear though them as if they were plump golden pears at some banquet. This yard, being located in Portland Oregon, always smelt of fresh, pure, sweet rain. The air was crisp, making every deep drawn breath refreshing and relaxing.
Inside of our house the scent was more old-fashioned. Wooden floors would creak and moan every other step. This home of mine was the only I had ever lived in the have both an attic and basement which we would often have adventures in. This house, though i do not currently live in it, brings me some of the warmest childhood memories i can reach. Our neighborhood was quiet, as was our house. :rolleyes: ]]> Creative Writing Mister Dean http://www.marijuana.com/creative-writing/132799-my-dear-old-house.html Spur of the moment Rhymes http://www.marijuana.com/creative-writing/132420-spur-moment-rhymes.html Thu, 22 Oct 2009 19:08:11 GMT Here is a dark little nursery rhyme I wrote while in the caring embrace of the sweet Mary Jane:

"Hee hee...hee who?" said the petticoat cat,
as he wrapped on the window with a *ratta tat tat*,
To the window rushed the boy to see whats the matter,
his feet on the floor with a *pitter* and a *patter*.
The teeth of the cat oh how they did shine,
for the boy couldn't be a year more than 9.
The boy pushed his fears down, he knew they were wrong,
as the cat danced around regailing in song.
"Come out come out, we'll dance through the street,
on rooftops and alleys won't that be neat?
The treasures I have and the songs we will sing,
On a night like this such a wonderful thing."
The tails of his coat flapped wildly about,
the boy was entranced out the window with a shout.
The petticoat cat took hold of his hand
and leapt onto rooftops from where they did stand.
They twirled and they spun in merriment and glee,
the cat seemed so joyous, so dazzling was he.
"Hee hee...hee who? said the petticoat cat,
perched on a chimney with a tip of his hat,
"There are many dangers in the night to be found,
scoundrels and monsters who rise up from the ground,
nastiest things your flesh they would sample,
even a petticoat cat for example",
the boy did not notice the wink in his eye,
nor the flash of the knife toward his neck that did fly.
A small spray of crimson lashed out and around
as the boys tiny head fell *thunk* on the ground,
he stumbled about, a quite comical scene,
the cat watched with a smirk as the blade he licked clean.

Feel free to post your own spur of the moment literature and even add on to this one.
And for the musically gifted among you, say this rhyme to the waltzing tune of Am, Em, C major, and Dm. Its very fun. ]]> Creative Writing Hayzy http://www.marijuana.com/creative-writing/132420-spur-moment-rhymes.html