literature
From cookbooks to ebooks, potent literature showcases the best and budding in the marijuana book industry.
Frankincense & Lavender
Fair to midlin. That phrase always struck Sandy funny until she experienced the day she was currently experiencing. A fair to midlin day.
Majique MiMiPublished 2 years ago in PotentFrankincense & Lavender
So Sandy slept in… Like all the way in. So far in, that the only reason she woke up at all around nine-thirty am was because Minnie decided to wake up and literally walk on Sandy’s chest, sit down then proceed to lick Sandy in the face.
Majique MiMiPublished 2 years ago in PotentFrankincense & Lavender
Cedric yawned and evoked the “tired-tears” It was the kind of yawn that hugged you in the middle and made you tremble while your eyes teared up and made ya blink. And if ya didn’t placed your palm over your eye and lightly cup your head to hide the tired-tears, as his mama used to call them, they would spill down your face and someone would eventually ask you,
Majique MiMiPublished 2 years ago in PotentFrankincense & Lavender
Sandy wasn’t goin to let on that she saw Cedric’s reflection in the window walkin up on her. Sure, she saw a figure headed in her direction with the little bit of peripheral vision she had left, but Sandy was also extremely nearsighted and had a stigmatism. She needed them blended biofocals and although they make em better now-a-days, for whatever reason they still made Sandy a lil dizzy and off center, so she decided not to wear them at all.
Majique MiMiPublished 2 years ago in PotentFrankincense & Lavender
Whoever said dogs do not have souls, never met Minnie, but not only was Sandy convinced that her dog had a soul, but Minnie also could sense when Sandy’s was in distress.
Majique MiMiPublished 2 years ago in PotentFrankincense & Lavender
Cedric couldn’t help but smile as he dropped his phone into his hoodie pocket. He also felt around for his sativa filled cone and lighter, before finding then unwrapping a cinnamon flavored tooth pick and sticking it into his mouth. He also stuffed Minnie’s leash into the back pocket of his jeans.
Majique MiMiPublished 2 years ago in PotentLittle Black Book...?
Chiara woke up with a jolt. There it was again, that thudding from above. Sometimes, she liked to imagine it was a murder/suicide occurring; she was always a fan of the macabre; but it never was. It was just the hooligans in the flat upstairs that didn’t know how to turn the bass down (or what good music was; Pitbull certainly was not).
Louisa CatanzaritiPublished 3 years ago in PotentRevenge Is a Dish Best Served Warm and Gooey
The smelly bathroom of Vinny’s wasn’t an ideal spot for an evening drug deal, but it was all Nicole had. She looked at her reflection while waiting for Randy the host to barge in. The first half of her double shift had turned her ponytailed hair into an oily slop atop her head, complete with a stretched-out scrunchie and dark brown tendrils falling into her eyes and mouth. She had been too busy serving rowdy toddlers and schmoozing tips out of dirty old men to fix her appearance.
Kathryn MilewskiPublished 4 years ago in PotentThe Cannabis Culture of Literature Is Hitting the Shelves
If these 24 game-changing books aren’t yet on your reading list, they should be. Especially if you partake in a little weed now and then. Whether you’re looking for facts and information about pot, or just want something a little lighthearted to read, there’s a book here for you that will keep you entertained as you smoke a little ganja.
Keilah KeiserPublished 5 years ago in PotentThe Boiling Pot
I grew up in these Bald Cypress trees, having spent the majority of my childhood on the boat with Pop and my older and only brother, Carl. I was raised in the sawgrass prairies, hunting and fishing every weekend with Pop. He taught Carl and I a route that took us from our backyard to the Gulf, and only on occasion would he venture out and show us different parts of the Everglades. He worried that we would go off on our own, get lost and not be able to find our way back. I used to argue this, telling him that the only way to ensure that we didn't get lost would be to explore the area. Pops declined and would hide the keys to his boat every time he left for a business trip, but Carl and I knew all of his hiding places. He would hide them in Ma's old shoes in the back of the closet, or at the bottom of the laundry basket because he knew that we wouldn't do the laundry while he was away...or in general.
Charleigh HaleyPublished 5 years ago in PotentMaria and Mary
I opened my eyes that morning to two of the most beautiful things, Maria and Mary. Maria was still sleeping. Mary, on the other hand, had been up all night waiting for me. She was always there for me, waiting, which was nice considering the amount of time I spent waiting for her. Mary was my cosmic mate. Maria, well she was just beautiful and evil. The way a good woman should be. When asked, I would have said, “Maria is the one I will grow old with, the apple of my eye, my soul mate. We connect on a physical level beyond measure.” Mary, on the other hand, was my cosmic mate, which meant we had a universal connection. Mary connected me with the world all around us and with myself as well, she showed me the power of my own mind. It was two powerful connections with two beautiful females, and no love lost.
cameron mcdonaldPublished 7 years ago in PotentWho Was Fitz Hugh Ludlow?
I was never particularly interested in 19th-century literature. There were so many things our English teachers didn't tell us, especially when it came to the counterculture underground books of the Victorian era. They never mentioned that Charles Dickens, for instance, wrote his last novel stoned. Several key scenes in The Mystery of Edwin Drood were set in an opium den and hash lounge. Or they'd ramble on and on about John Greenleaf Whittier's "Snowbound," never mentioning his interesting little poem "The Haschich." Sometimes we'd get maybe an hour of English class devoted to an excerpt from Thomas De Quincey's Confessions of an English Opium Eater (1822), because it was the first great English drug tale and influenced all the Romantic writers. But we never heard about, America's first great drug writer, Fitz Hugh Ludlow.
Frank WhitePublished 7 years ago in Potent