Graveyard – Hisingen Blues

Gather around all ye gentle hippies, earth lovers, and children of the Woodstock generation for the doctor is in. So.. pick a spot around the ol’ campfire and allow this ol’ long bearded street philosopher slip you a tab of some of the finest, grooviest, and uplifting tab of acid that’s sure to awaken the senses and open those neural floodgates to the furthermost recesses of the cosmic beyond anything the late great philosopher, Timothy Leary, ever managed to tap into.. and then some! That’s right, I’m referring to a little known brew called Graveyard.

Now it’s not as ominously poisonous as the name suggests.. no sirree! Heh, don’t want y’all mistaking this for some kind of bad hellride of which the likes a one, Charlie Manson, slipped to some young impressionable folk that day back in ’69 when a sobering reminder was sent to those who finally decided to actually sober up and .. (gasp) cut their hair and.. get a job! So no worries about ending up in an actual graveyard now, ya hear? Rather this brew is called “Graveyard” ‘cause the trip is guaranteed to liberate your soul from the very confines of the physical body like a butterfly freeing itself from its cocoon and, therefore, allowing you to free yourself from the confines of your former self; of which has become so heavily weighed down by the burdens of being force fed syrupy, sugary pop culture references manufactured by heavily manicured 70 year old corporate suits who seem to think “kick out the jams, motherfucker” is a coin of phrase used to describe how Viagra works or when the prune juice finally kicks in.

No, this sojourn transcends the barriers of time and space and propels the self into a kaleidoscope of psychedelic colors that vibrate with the pulse of the infinite universe’s many stars. Indeed, it was during a sojourn of my own where, in the patterns of many constellations, I saw the outline of the late Jimmy Hendrix, his guitar unleashing a cosmic fireworks display of music notes that would explode into a series of dazzling supernovae not seen since the great Big Bang. I’ve also felt my very being melt and become one with the very geometric patterns that make up Led Zeppelin’s colossal stairway to heaven and even felt the rush of Deep Purple’s cosmic haze surge through me like a warm, electric current. Indeed, I’ve been uplifted far and beyond to the point where I’ve gazed misty eyed at the world below me and realized that the physical world as I know it is just an insignificant mass amidst a greater infinite whole.

Oh, Graveyard, how I thank you from the bottom of my heart for not only transforming my entire being into the weightless vessel for which you speak earthly love through, but for making me aware that life can be so much more simpler without the complex man-made sterile technology that stifles all emotional human contact. Further, thank you for simply making me feel perpetually young again. I swear I can feel my hair follicles sproutin’ hair bigger and longer than the mythological hippie of all hippies himself, Jesus Christ.