Run to the Cure Rick Simpson got sick; a weird rash on his arm. He made a reluctant appointment, “They’re evil” he was forewarned. His doctor looked grave and furled his brow. Referred to oncology; “You’ve got cancer now”. Started talking ‘bout biopsies, x-rays and scans And the thousand dollar price tags that came with these plans. Mr Simpson bowed out: no lab-rat to become. He’d heard pot cured cancer back in 1971. The studies were Government: they’ll work for sure. But he’d heard it just once and not anymore. So he did his own research and came up with a plan. This wasn’t your ordinary, complying man. He sat down with a rice cooker, some naphtha and bud. He doused and he stirred, blended it real good. Fine-strained the mixture and set it to boil. Steeping for hours resulting thick, amber oil. Ingested the goo and put some on his arm. To his doctors astonishment it had worked like a charm. But the doc didn’t care for the way he had healed. No big bills for him, no plans and no deals. $300,000 he would not collect. He told Mr Simpson, “Keeping quiet is your best bet”. Keep quiet he could not: he told all that he knew. The news spread like wild-fire and not just to a few. Now many have healed themselves with his oil; With very little money, knowledge or toil. We hear these success stories, more everyday. They stand up real tall, they have something to say. Cashy won twice, the third took his life. His supply was cut off, DEA was the knife. But you can’t bury the truth or hide the light. Of an angel like Cashy ‘cause he shined so very bright. His battle lives on in our daughters and sons Like Brave Mykayla, Jason and Jayden. Many lives have been saved: our children are spared. From a disease with a cure, that a doc gave no care. Thank You Rick Simpson for standing your ground. For finding this cure and spreading it around. Michael B Curtis 2012
Posted on: Sat, 15 Jun 2013 14:28:04 +0000
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