Grateful Dead

here i sit afraid i`ll rot I beg of you to tell me not I don`t want to rot my brain to stop my heart to drop so i beg of you to tell me not you will not rot brain won`t stop your heart won`t drop so here I am to tell you not 1-30-08 bad day wife had been in hospital for abt. a week when these words come to me. If your love is true you can make it through 1-30-08 Thank you very much Marye ..

Thanks alot Marye-very appealing topic, and will have to dig out something from personal collection to post!********************************** Don't part with your illusions. When they are gone, you will still exist, but you have ceased to live. Samuel Clemens

Drops fall softlyWhile the notes flow through our ears We keep on dancing Our fingers draw the music Patterns in the air Our feet mimic the rhythm Drums on the grass My neighbor smiles at me As a rainbow appears over the stage The melody changes Sunshine daydream We are still dancing Twirling our own rainbow Along the moon-path Is one I wrote many years ago, after a show at Alpine Valley, so should be appropriate here. Is one of the few that was not written in a depressed frenzy. ********************************** Don't part with your illusions. When they are gone, you will still exist, but you have ceased to live. Samuel Clemens

Wrote this last Spring before a reunion of sorts. Some of us hadn't seen each other in over 20 years. Had such a good time we're gathering again this Spring. Seems I've been gone so many years So many ports and storms But, no matter how the time had passed Still the memories kept me warm. A hazy time of twirling daze And friends who shared the road Life's biggest burdens don't seem so big When someone shares the load Faded image on a photograph And a song from far away Though the road grew long between us I knew we'd meet again one day We all know life is a journey With so many twists and turns But, tell me, ain't it funny how The roads all lead us home. (Yeah tell me, ain't it funny how The roads all lead us home)

I am so excited about this new topic. Stuman is my hero. Thanks you guys for the great words. I love it.

a great idea for a new forum stuman....thanx and thanx to the mods as well! i njoy the poems plz keep them coming.....if u havent allready done so "ontheroadagain", u should put urs to music...grate job! stay safe and feel good! (~):-}

your soft hair on my pillowyour sweet smell in the morning I watch you sleep

I never expected this kind of respons. really mind blowing to think what i started .. I never expected to be someones hero, thanx hozomeen .. I am just me .. a soul with so many words just waiting to reveal themselves. seeing all this really just made my day !! and it started on a bad note , but i really feel great now !! Thank you everyone !! I will post more when the words come to me Keep the words flowing !! Keep smiling !! I am now !! peace and a Grateful Day to all !! Stu .........

The Weather Channel said "Cold Front" "Last one of the year? its Loop Road time!" We cancelled our Palm Pilot schedules and drove West of South Beach, towering glass condos, clubs with velevt fences, west of Little Havana and men still fighting on the Bay of Pigs on Tamiami Trail The 4 lane road to the Gulf od Mexico You turn at the little sign before 40 Mile Bend drive past the Miccosukee mansions built with gaming money Roadtrips 79 on with Sirius GD ready to fill in if needed. Its cold for Miami No clouds no humidity Toklas's formula has kicked in gently and sweetly Oak trees bent with blooming tislandia shooting red and purple spikes towards the cold blue sky A group of snowy egrets stalk misquito fish in dark water dyed brown red by cypress tannin. The Loop is busy many rangers and scientists and others appreciating a cold day its quiet no jets or cars or verizon we sit outside watching cold gators float in the shallow river. Terrapin begins we sing softly aching always for Jerry and Brent There is a tunnel of pidgeon plums and mastics drooped over the stream like a covered bridge the wind whips the pine island ridge we have reached the end and its time for a double decker pork sandwhich at the Pit BarBQ and cell service. Damn. And the road goes on forever.... BobbaLee

i dreamed i was a potter's wheelspinning freely thru the nite resting bones so comfortably suddenly awakened with a fright nostrils fill with smell i dread dog shit in house again

What happened to innocence? Burned like a book at a fundamental gathering, tossed like a stone into a pool of adulthood. Does it seem hard to understand that the very things we throw towards the sun are the very things that will come back down upon our heads? I want to walk a long road for a day or two. Not to look for anything, but to let the road speak to me. Let it call my name. I long for Kerouac's highway and God's navigation. To speak through my fingers like cosmic rays. To tell stories through an A minor. Would anyone listen? Burn in me, oh call of the road. Burn, burn, burn until it swells. Let me never dream of this empty chair. Let me never pine for this central air. Let me never wish for perfect hair. I want to be flawed and dirty. To be viewed as an anomaly, not a citizen. I have no place on this earth. I have no country that wants me. We, who ask too many questions, who seek more than material, who reach for more than more are the ones who are asked to leave. There's the door! Open the door! Don't come back through that door! But when it's time to be represented by the underground, the door swings open! "We've always been open!" they say through perfect teeth and sculpted lips. "We are your friends!" NO, NO, NO! My friends are still outside. My friends are the ones who reach for the road as well. My friends speak through E strings and parchment. My friends lay their heads on beds made of rejection and wake up feeling refreshed, renewed, inspired, desired. You have never understood the underground, the under-educated, the under-dressed, the under-nourished, the under-showered, the understood. Put your manicured hand back in your wallet. Keep your perfect face away from the faces of anguish. Leave the door closed. We children of a homeless king do not need your hand. We need His. We need the road. We need each other. We need to sing. “Let there be songs to fill the air.”

Is one of the Dark DaysNo red, yellow, or orange Just blue, purple, and BLACK Is no music inside Only cold silence Lethargy, fear, and doubt Have to pretend for a while Til the rainbow comes back ********************************** Don't part with your illusions. When they are gone, you will still exist, but you have ceased to live. Samuel Clemens

OK. So, this one is sort of a follow-up to one I wrote, and a good friend of mine put music to, a long time ago. We'll see what the future holds. . . "Suzie's Still Gone" Her mama wondered where she'd gone Until the day the angels came She cried herself to sleep each night In her heart she held the blame. She left her home somewhere down South With dreams of where she'd go But never in her young girl dreams Could she feel cold rain and snow. Now Suzie's living turning tricks Shame cuts her like a knife She feels too damn dead for dyin For her, living ain't much life. There's heartache on the streets tonight So many lifetimes full of pain Faces filled with "want-to-go" But they'll be back again. Stories made to melt a heart Coax the dollars from your fist Eyes of stone cold emptiness Staring at you thru the mist.

(The Dead) 6-29-03 Pray for world peace and for those around you. In this lifetime and when of this world You must live to see it through So let's live as one as never lived before Cultivate destiny, leave the circle, piece together a Patchwork map. Follow the people of a similar glimmer. For the way that stays one to never sway leaves the weary to rest upon its resplendent plateau. Nothings impossible while everything possible is being done. Ten years ahead of its time from a town nine years behind the nearest city. Curiosity, pending probability, simplified stratagems' intuitive glint Recreating yesterday while all the while innovating tomorrow. Reliving being born tomorrow Politics of fun are not that different from day to day. The Ethereal community self policed utopian nuance A sacred dance in the shadow of their wingspan Sun pours and sometime it seems as if it's ours to offer. Spontaneous arrival, what happens to you happens to me Good people doing well towards each other Best to better yet, can't be done any better. Purpose and intention of those attempting to bridge the distance, Freeborn dancers swirl, fade not. Under the sun or hiding behind the clouds Recreating yesterday, all the while innovating tomorrow Images, objects, issues, aspects of interaction As if this where spontaneous, and in turn adhere, In the theater of humanity An audience of identical nuance Manifesting presence as people of similar glint All at once declare there's nothing strange about free speech. ----------------------------------------------

pushing pulling whirling filling overflowing words spill out on the ground leaving stains residue and moving around talking talking talking talking relentless energy impossible to ignore coming from all around this tank is filling overflowing spilling staining everybody watching pointing talking seeing taking taking taking taking impossible craziness strange weirdness pumping pumping spilling moving staining hurting swelling bursting loneliness

my life is in a notebook not a book of wishes not a book of hopes not a book of magic not even a book of dreams just a simple little notebook

2/27/06 nooneheregetsoutalive livelearnloveenjoylifeits tooshorttowasteandworry aboutnothingthatreallymatters livelearnloveenjoylifeyour timeislimitedmakeitmatter written on my birthday, 2 days after my sister passed over

he is what he eats i am what i see he is what he consumes i am what i hear he is what he collects i am what i love he is what he takes i am what i choose

I had a dream I was a great travler of all space and time I have no control of this journey I own nothing but the clothes on my body and an old tatterd road map I have no freinds I have no familly no knowlege of where or when i would travle only the knowleageto help people i did not know I was tired. I did sleep, only to awaken in a different place a different time just wandering, looking for road sings and checking my old tatterd road map to determin where i was every day every hour a different senario different people, different places I would fall into peopls lives like the leaves falling in autum I would help these strange people no matter of their situation they did not know me they did not remember me so so very tired scared to sleep I never know where or when I will wake It is off to sleep I go where i will wake ,I do not know Is this a dream at all ? Oh so very strange where the road leads.

Awesome reading, folks - keep `em coming!!! Stuman, thanks for getting this started! *Starr*

Stray cat shufflin’ down the street at dawn Don’t know where he’s been, but it’s time to go home. Blind rat hiding in the shadow’s light He’s too old to run, but not afraid to fight. Storm clouds blowin’ in from miles around Gotta seek shelter, or your soul might drown. Sometimes it’s hard to hear what’s harder to say Have to keep living, Lord, for one more day. There’s no way out, and just one way down Devil’s gonna catch you just hanging around

dancin' with Jack on my shoulders this morning...my heart is going good and...Lord knows I'm a voodoo child baby...Jack pat pat pat on my crew cut head and hoot hoot hoot as I spin and dance along and suddenly I throw my dreads back in the hot southern sun of Alabama with all twelve fingers outstretched from the end of my spine shooting acid electricity screaming cause I'm a voodoo child...........voodoo child.......and jack holds on smiling and laughing and digging every bit of it all the way back to our living room...

This graffiti ridicules the criminalization of the Dali LamaBrother james, cousin simon are here to help you hide the family picture of the Dali Lama. Buddha shaped hourglass turns over aspects of charity into sinless acts of sacrifice. Turtle shell fell into pieces here forth the national future action will leave neither without. Chant neutral bible quotes with help from strangers, Abandon status as Moses under house arrest An integration of meditations going to church barefoot The code of China is embroidered on prayer sleeves. The privileged offer no dialog over the satellite which set aside the rights of human beings Reinventing the myth of being arrested in front of his family Martial law students subvert their subculture feeling abandoned by progressive societies People in power are doing wrong kick down the door and be taken away Panchen Lama

not the tibet thing again. I told you tibet will take care of their own. and so it is writen that way my son.

Who are you really??

darknesscomes fast, eye's didn't see, claws grip barbs cover veiled lies, why do you not listen to me, paths of the dragon lead only to pain, what made you fall. darkness

A few Haiku scaring the children with his shaggy beard--they come back to tug on it well tended garden rows and rows of organic herbs most of them legal passing the peace pipe community of gentle souls rests between sets morning dew never quite the same since walking thru it

This one's from a couple of years ago, and doesn't have a name: The star-studded wet green fields Sway to the time of a northern breeze. Walking out in the sweet rhythm Drinking in air Thick and soft In the mystery of a night Crowded with ghosts Of a thousand dead butterflies The living air shimmers and ripples. But I don’t look back As I swim through it, away. This one also doesn't have a name, and i believe it's from last year: I’m sitting in the TV Coney Island Watching the rides Presiding. I gotta go to a new place every day Paris is next, To whenever paris was Paris. After that it’s the bus station on 178th street From there who knows I flew in the morning while the fog was still clearing from my windows Walking down the streets Heavy with dew and grey Flew to San Francisco to see some real fog But I never stayed on there more than a few days Sleeping peacefully among the flowers, lost souls, The bookstores and the beats. Well then I drove down to Los Angeles but I didn’t care For LA LA land and the drive was all I wanted anyway since I lost mine somewhere in summer way back when I was laying way down in the mad jungle Again

Is there ever a time That was never to dim When the moment just right Still glass captures the light Frozen in time’s haste Foolishness is a waste Don’t Go, Don’t Go Stuck within the moment Won’t you let me go now Struggle from some, not all The impulse’s shadow Casts these memories

Thank you for a real good timeYou make me happy, make me shine Lucky are we who can smile and say I'm on the Bus and here to stay We trip around the country catching all the shows we can And we just keep on dancin while the music plays the band We know a little something that the rest won't ever know We live in peace, we laugh, we dance and hold on to the rose

The omitted spring velocitiesOf ever widening permissions We wildly anti-see a gap When all is sometimes free at last Oh, The Badger of Cosmics plants a seed Or two, for us to grin I can but wonder where the light is from I can only ponder

IN THE REALM OF THE WIZARD GARCIA A Parable for Deadhead Children of All Ages by A. Mandala c. 1990 All rights reserved. Once upon a space of time, On a bright ball spinning free, There lived a race of humankind, Not unlike you and me. But these folk were having a terrible time Finding a free way to be, And the notes that they sang in the cosmic chord Curdled the heavenly harmony. They'd built bombs to kill everybody several times over, But they couldn't make sure every body could eat; They'd poisoned the air, their own food, land and water, They'd rarely cooperate, but they'd always compete. Their world had become a planet divided By hard hearts, closed minds and hate, And since they'd never learned to blend together in love, Self-destruction shadowed their fate. But in the realm of the Wizard Garcia, And his bands of merry fools, They were striving to find some gentler ways By stretching all those rules That were stopping joy and kindness From glowing from within, And blocking hearts from beating With the pulsing life rhythm. You see, the sickness that afflicted that world Was not that hard to fix, It came from keeping things locked up And protecting them with sticks, Or knives, or guns, (or words) or bombs, Or other means to scare, 'Til all the time 'twas meant for play Got trapped inside of fear. And it became easier to keep others away Than to learn to let them near, And it became easier to fret about a future of days Than enjoy the one that was here. Their minds had locked out everything, But having and getting more. They were so afraid to lose what they had, They were scared to go out their own door. But in the realm of the Wizard Garcia, At the edge of this Land of Afraid, They were dedicated to going further than this, To dance in, not watch, life's parade. For they'd found a musical magic Where the boundaries could stretch everywhere, And they all could let go together, And not fear that others were near. They followed that magic right out of their cages, And escaped from the dungeon of feeling alone, Their spirits would shimmer (and heal) and mingle; Fear could no longer freeze them like stone. Their minds would all meld and spark with connection, Their bodies would ripple together like waves, Their souls merged in oneness; they stopped dreading dying; They could see, from those peaks, they might dance beyond graves. In their bliss they knew life is transcendent, It's immenser than just you or we, And whenever we try to box it or lock it, We just jail ourselves with no key. They celebrated the joys of coming together, In a free-zone where each one could be Wherever their fantasies happened to take them And still blend with the whole harmony. Now sadly, most who most needed their magic Only saw them as weirdoes and freaks, And made fun of their smiles and their twinkling eyeballs, And then returned to that world that was bleak. But the realm of the Wizard Garcia Is always near for those who will dare To soar o'er the limits and bondage of boundaries, To find the freedom that rings beyond fear.

written 8-27-95 Ouroboric Sunset Jerry … where are you? A sustained note hovers angelic over the stadium Remembering the hypnotic music Bubbling up from subconscious wellsprings Forming whirling universes of electric blues Mingling elements of fire and air Swirling question marks in the Zen void And in the center of the cyclone Garcia rides the inner edge His beard flying in the winds His head residing in the calm central eye Skull an alembic vessel of chemical transformation Flames lick through the hollow eyeholes And a wisp of incense rises up to heaven Jerry … where are you? Awaiting Ouroboroic sunrise

Actually recorded a rough copy of this one last time we got the band (?) together. Getting back together in a couple of weeks to "flesh out" some old ones, and write some new ones... It’s in the quietest of times That hope speaks the loudest And sometimes in the darkness Is where you’ll see the light All the love you give away Comes back to you in time Memories grow like flowers In the garden of your mind How many years has it been Since we danced the night away And stepped out of the bright lights Into the early morning gray Want to hold you like new memories Of the way I dreamed it should be They grow like ripples in still waters We’ll watch them flowing to the sea

nineteen eighty-five....two tone, silver and black.....throaty three fifty coughs happily alive, through ceramic headers, collectors, straight pipes and out.....split fire plugs gaped zaped hot sparks and the rods push down around.....flywheel fly and lights flash dash board Vanillarama smell with summertime Armor All....vinyl bench seat, short box, short cab no riders......womp womp womp, cam drops drops drops d d d duh.....d d d duh.....d d d duh....she idles and waits while I pack my Copenhagen.....step on the gas....one two shift screech.....get up on it and loose the ass end a bit....back off the foot slightly for the ole two-three slam......rack and pinion steering loose in my hands.........back down to the floor, pickin' up speed.......numbers on the tach climbing, higher, higher, whining, winding, speed speed speeeeed......stall converter drop, tires catch burn rubber ninety miles an hour......overdrive nineteen eighty five.....and cold air blowin'.........I should have never sold that truck.....

I am a hippie dead head Standing tall and sweet Loving all the friends that I got to meet From shakedown shopping and going to many a show I thought I was lost when Jerry did go He made it sound so soft and sweet I did not care that I had dirty feet From dancin and twirling to falling dowm It's all to sad now I have a frown I miss those daze one and all Someone catch me I'm going to fall So I am here now to share with you about the daze when dreams came true

the intrepid traveler steps on throughhe feels feet inside socks inside shoes

Dreaming of peace in this free flowing age of chaosToken Jesus pictures proclaiming morality Please! The Passion? My ass! It's mythology not religion Dogma doggin' my trail in the Bible Belt Blue laws restricting me Look Inside for christ's sake It's all you Not the devil out to get you fool! Love flows from my fingertips Passing out positivity Freely given and eagerly spent Offering up a whole new realm of possibilities Forget dreaming Practice what you preach Who cares what god you claim to be Love Free

That was a very beautiful poem, it really touched my heart. Please don't frown any more...

as i sleepmy mind just creeps where it goes i do not know maybe to hell it goes i do not know perhaps to heaven it goes i do not know there is no gain in this it is only sleep i miss it seems only pain i gain from this only the pain in my brain is all i have to gain pain in my brain is all there is to gain just pain in my brain. 4-10-08

1Have you ever been so happy to see these boys arriving with their truckloads full of music,and their eyes just shining? Yes,I see the questionmark twirling round your head the answer is,my unknown friend,here came to Grateful Dead. Refrain:And we are the people allways waiting for our Boys first song which grabs us from the start and makes all dance along We are just funny cosmic hobos,and were proud to be The Deads own gand who allways tryin to spread harmony 2.Thousand languages are spoken on our planet earth but only one is understood by everyone who cares Its the golden notes of Jerrys guitar playin with the band and when this tunes sets in wer happy like little kids in wonderland Refrain:Thats because we are the people who allways wait for another note of Grateful music that were sharing and the lyrics we can quote so like i told you we are hobos from the world of sound proud to be the Deads own gang,were allways be around.

Magic in the Valley It was the summer of 85 and I was feeling very alive Dancing with the Dead and spacing in my head With an audience of pine trees and rain clouds Weaving through the mass of swirling crowds As the band left the stage for the first set break My mind was peaking with all I could take I slowed to a small bouncing rhythmic twirl And then I saw the most beautiful girl She wore a pink and blue dress As she danced amid the mess She had flowers in her hair And her dirty feet were bare It seemed as if we were completely alone Then I hear the theme of the “Twilight Zone” She whispers to me “Women are Smarter” And that was the second set starter She vanished somewhere during the song So I just keep on trucking along And finished out the show that night Remembering her smile, what a lovely sight The second show was anything but one more Saturday night The band was so in touch it gave me a fright The energy kept on growing as well as my smile I two stepped and half stepped for what seemed like a mile As I was grooving along with the sound of drums From out of nowhere here she comes Her smile alight like a lost sailors beacon I knew that she held all I was seeking She breathed “Dear Mr. Fantasy” into my ear And at that very moment Jerry shifts into gear The sweet melodic twangs of his steel guitar Take me to a place quite distant and far She looked deep in my eyes in a special way And said “I need a miracle every day” We kept on dancing as she called out the tunes Next song they play will be “Stella Blue” As she named “Throwing Stones” I felt a chill in my bones And I thought “What are the odds, Is she a messenger from the gods?” “Not Fade Away” will be the end of the set But don’t worry it is not over yet This dark haired beauty with big brown eyes Was guiding the music to my total surprise For an encore she paused and then said with a wink We will hear “US Blues” I think But “Brokedown Palace” was the encore song How could my angel get it wrong? She frowned then smiled and laughed so sweet And said, Well “Us Blues” would have been neat But hey, I can’t always be right Maybe that one’s tomorrow night Then without a sound she twirled away Leaving me alone with a touch of gray I will never forget that magical night in June With the fallen angel of “Name that Tune” Tim

very nice, was her name joan?

The White snow mountain in the center depicts the land of the great nation of Tibet. The six red rays emanating from the sun symbolize the six original peoples of Tibet: the Se, Mu, Dong, Tong, Dru, and Ra. The blue rays symbolize the commitment to spirtual and secular rule. The pair of snow-lions symbolize the complete victory of the spiritual and secular rule. The three-sided yellow border reresents the flourishing of the Buddha’s teachings. The side without a border represents Tibet’s openness to non Buddhist thought. The raised jewel symbolizes Tibet’s reverence for the three Precious Gems: the Buddha, the Dharma and the Sangha.

Unless chaos rules constant the lives of men, My future must certain my past replevin. And ere yet I finish, with gainful intent, Applying my craft, with respect due dissent. Giving metre it's purpose and weaving with rhyme, So that men might gain focus from years worn with time. Fact past and present, forevre entwined, With one common purpose, continuation of kind. Or how about something really dark and dismal...we're talking a fat bummer... Loneliness is a force that steals life's precious moments drop by drop, bled to the beat of drumming angst, frustration, or resignation. The unfulfilling satiation of the flesh and the paring of hope from the bleeding exposed bone. Mis-spent minutes fade to hours, then to years, stoicly plodding towards death. The hearts magic tickle grows fainter as dreams become worn memories. Unrequited fantasy, unparalleled waking excitement feed secret longing and desparate hope. Longed for visons and possibilities demand unanswered devoted action and grow the black fruit of bitterness and envy. The answer to the heart's cry goes unheard by ears straining to hear as its muffled voice is kept wrapt in a bloody woolen rag. The pulse, once spurred to beat so strongly and quickly, rising to the moment in anticipation, grows stagnant and thready. Its purpose never realised, the flesh it fed, only filling out form, shrinks without filling the mold. Time grinds the bones towards dust. Grasping fingers claw for any hold as the fall from potential reality accelerates the backwards plunge into the dark anonymous abyss. So many others falling, all in silence, each alone. Each grasping and straining to hear the muffled voice wrapt in a bloody woolen rag.

Mom, how you made my world sing:With stories of the Summer of Love in Frisco and everything; About supergroups you saw when they were brand new; About Jerry and the Boys living next door to you. With characters like Leary, Kenyon, and Steve Miller, What more could you ask for, sounds like a thriller. The experiment seemed such a sucess, I wish it were true That society evolved at the pace you all set it to. Down at the Purple Onion, Steve Miller jammin' Indian style, Pigpen beltin' out the blues if only for a while. Joni Mitchell on the wall, shy as a mouse, Janis and Big Brother tearing down the house. Must have been a trip as a working artist in that town. I can remember the SF scene from my perspective near the ground. The change in the air, it seemed like revolution; The times since then seem such a dilution. I wish I could go back and live it for a while, Seems like I'd have a permanent A-time smile. That groove you all set, it still lingers on, Though the torchbearers seem all but gone. When Jerry went, I felt a part of me go. Now that you're gone, it seems like the end of the show. But I realize this is the hardest part of the test, Cause when things get rough, you've got to be at your best. We are the torchbearers, it's our turn to fly. The world we live in is our alibi. It's our song now and we get to sing it, So don't be afraid, just get out there and wing it.

machine chain reaction push the button and go…no stopping do the job built to do designed to do mechanism jester twelve-fingered freak entertaining at best push the button and let’s see what he’ll do family distraction, common bond, golden child link to humanity dance, make us laugh, but don’t make us think back back back now you twelve-fingered freak push the button, start the machine….wake that motherfucker up push it again I’m bored until……….. eight leathery fingers and four leathery thumbs close tight around one soft throat, skin stained with black resin, fat strong fingers, scared, cut, bleeding, scabbed, used, useful…..push it again motherfucker, I dare you….pulls one arm back, slowly cocking, muscles tightening, bulbous, salty, years and tears of steel out at sea and they have no idea what they have on their hands now, chaffing hemp rope leathery black resign stained acrid skin around throat uncomfortable to the touch beyond the pressure alone…..every time you push that button, my son pays…..four fingers and two thumbs and the strong right hand balls up into hammer fist…. go ahead, push it again….I dare you….my son is standing right there behind me, take a good look at his face and push it again…it’s right there in front of you…all you have to do is push…..and…..laugh……and…….see what happens next…. …and with his tongue he pushes the Copenhagen tighter into his lower lip, and with a click click click he moves his head side to side and pop pop pop on his muscle of a neck and with brown dribble on his chin….how funny am I now?

The sky is the ocean above our little lobster heads. The waves of clouds create, the waves of clouds move to make the wind and the sea bed. Formations of rock and stone from the surgical whisp whirling and swirling fumbling and twirling as it whistles through and around my head. Feelings of harsh sincerity harsh reality and harsh naivety rush to me. These feelings, they rush right through me consuming all of what I thought I knew. Consuming all of who I thought to be true. Now I am left swimming here, and crawling here, in this ocean of atmospheric pressure. It relentlessly keeps pushing itself down on me. My shoulders ache, my head aches, and my stomache screams. I don't think my compulsions or my con-vul-sions could have kept me from something so emancipated and inhumane. This distraught loss I feel I have suffered is now a new awakening. My life is nothing but materialistic. I thought these things had meaning and purpose, but what is purpose without a soul? It's a vicious cycle with my footprint stamped in time. From a single seed I grew, now 5 feet 8 inches tall and left with an empty soul. Degredation stemming from the 11th hour. It is our time now to shine. This generation of ours so behind. Industry came on the e-train and the time has come for it to go again. Deep within I have found another way to be free. It's this bright light that shines so deep into my eyes. Blinded by this path of perfection that I had to be. But this light, with it's scathing little intricacies and delicasies and in-for-malities. Inside we must learn. Inside we must grow. Inside we must follow. This little winding road, that twists and turns until silence overcomes. We must watch as the ground below us slowly dissolves away, slowly spreads itself and connects in so many forms. Staggered little dots creating this painting of the big picture. We have no idea where the earth and sky meet, there is no line beneath my feet, and this... rocky path. My fingertips extending into this distant whistling ocean in the sky. The clouds, like waves, rumble and roll atop my head in my magnetic life. ~littlebri

one two three four my number is three but what’s it for, some system of three like one two three three plus one three plus two three plus three three plus three plus one three plus three plus two three plus three plus three….arbitrary names for things we call numbers and we all have one

words…..why why why so many floating searching seeking falling tripping slipping groping feeling stabbing cutting blunting crushing killing all around like smoke it smells like the thing it used to be and swirls around itself making patterns breaking rules taking fools along for a ride up up up and around through and out without knowing seeing hearing glaring starring till the cloud is just dust falling and calling scalding and balding the surface of everything we see