Grateful Dead

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It was Faith, was it not? Ensuingit was what it is and not arrived by common means but every unique avenue and footpath. To be able (even as in a study) to find a maliceless state-of-being, as we are assured we all know, exists. But alas can it exist while bearing flesh. Fleshless bones do tell a story all their own. And ashes are never what they were anyways and everything has been ashes already. Many of them are their own graves. Then, like the rhyme...ashes, ashes. I am going to make a fire to only but really...make some ashes, making ashes all the day. Even the incense that smells of rose and stone are henceforth ashes... ashes, ashes, ashes, dropping ashes, ashes. Ashes are the key in reverse to all, 360 circle. And the malicelessness in pretty ashes will remain a part me, I am ashes, indeed. ------------Ashes-Ashes-(-----@ "Faith, Hope and Love... the Greatest of these Love" The ashes of lovingkindness, a gift of this day, not only to me but to all of you, xo. -sherbear

In thinking of metaphors,with all their correlations, showing what it was like, with a hope it might validate, the reader and writer to a, common ground of mutual-ness, within any topic of chance. In 2004 I jotted this after dear friends of many years went their own way. I oft took care of their three kids as to make the best of the worst. We had fun as I watched over them with nothing to say or that could be said. I still love them all and some love is impossible change, go figure. Well, this is a piece I wrote during that. It's all about the...like! Marriage... ...is like a good wine paired with the perfect entree. ...is like a career, something you are always working at. ...is like a vase holding both- fresh and wilted flowers. ...is like a hinge that works well for years then just rusts and rots. ...is like delicate onion skin paper that you must hold gently. ...is like God. Mighty and praise-worthy. ...is like a kiln, hot and able to make sand and clay rock hard. ...is like a shower, refreshingly comfortable and renewable. ...is like a patched roof that will eventually leak again. ...is like a silk straight jacket, feeling the restrained pleasure of it. ...is like water contained in a glass slowly evaporating as it is not being drunk.

fat, wet snowflakesswirl on the wind melt quickly

Imaginationis the location of all creation

Wise words from the departingEat your greens, especially broccoli And always say Thank You especially for the things you've never had While working the soil we cultivate good manners And cultivate a vegetable kingdom of your own making we're working the soil by working the soil by working the soil we cultivate the sky And enter the vegetable kingdom of Heaven by working the soil by working the soil by working the soil by working the soil The death of your mother and the death of your father is something you prepare for all your life for all our lives Wise words from the departing eat your greens especially broccoli always wear sensible shoes and always say please and thank you especially for the things you've never had especially for the things you've never had especially for the things you've never had Eat your greens, especially broccoli by the working the soil You cultivate the sky and enter the vegetable kingdom of your own making - Jhonn Balance

GOD is a little like General Electric-He lights your path. GOD is a little like Bayer Aspirin- He works wonders. GOD is a little like Hallmark Cards- He cared enough to send the very best. GOD is a little like TIDE- He gets the dirt out others leave behind. GOD is a little like VO5 hair spray- He holds through all kinds of weather. GOD is a little like Dial Soap- Aren't you glad you know Him? Don't you wish everyone did? GOD is a little like Wal Mart- He has everything. GOD is a little like Alka Seltzer- Oh, what a relief He is. GOD is a little like Scotch Tape- you can't see Him but you know He's there. GOD is a little like a Copper Top Battery- nothing out lasts Him. GOD is a little like American Express- don't leave home without Him. MAY GOD BE WITH YOU Sher'd from a recipe book from S.S. Peter & Paul Orthodox Church

Lettuce be faithfulLettuce be kind Lettuce be patient Lettuce really... Love one another -The salad said it all

May all sentient beings come to dwell in happiness and the causes of happiness.May all sentient beings be free from suffering and the causes of suffering. May all sentient beings never be separated from the happiness that knows no suffering May all sentient beings abide in equanimity free of attachment and aversion, holding some close and others distant. An old Tibetan prayer

The friendly and wise advice given, that once taken, like good medicine, makes one and all feel better.

Sitting in silence in a mountain temple in the quiet night.Extreme quiet and stillness are original naturalness. Why then does the Western wind shake the forrest? A single cry of cold-weather geese fills the sky.

Take time for 12 things 1 Take time to Work- it is the price of success. 2 Take time to Think- it is the source of power. 3 Take time to Play- it is the secret of youth. 4 Take time to Read- it is the foundation of knowledge. 5 Take time to Worship- it is the highway of reverence and washes the dust of the Earth from our eyes. 6 Take time to help and Enjoy Friends- it is the source of happiness. 7 Take time to Love- it is the one sacrament of life. 8 Take time to Dream- it hitches the soul to the stars. 9 Take time to Laugh- it is the singing that helps with life's loads. 10 Take time for Beauty- it is everywhere in nature. 11 Take time for Health- it is the true wealth and treasure of life. 12 Take time to Plan- it is the secret of being able to have time to take time for the first eleven things. By Patricia Bragg With blessings for Health and Happiness

Her pathetic childUntethered ran wild Leaving her beguiled So she seldom smiled Her logical side Reasoned a child bride Wed would turn the tide With her sense of pride Her ethical bent Given up for Lent Left a fulsome scent Like a sewer vent And me I just write Often late at night Under a dim light Like a parasite

I am a queen of the circulating libraryI have declared an amnesty All books may be returned without a penalty Return the books to me Return the books Don't burn the books You cut down the trees to make paper disease It's in the trees: it's coming Return the book of knowledge Return the marble index File under 'Paradox' The forest is a college, each tree a university I am a queen of the circulating library I'm here to answer your enquiry All knowledge resides within me Your membership has expired You are way past expiry dates Words, words, words, words You may as well listen to the birds - John Balance

Like a sewer vent? Like a parasite? I like the style but needs a tad of refinement. B plus. (Like I should be giving grades based on the doggerel I write)

First Child Twice Her pathetic child Untethered ran wild Leaving her beguiled So she seldom smiled Her logical side Reasoned a child bride Wed would turn the tide With her sense of pride Her ethical bent She gave up for Lent Left a fulsome scent Like a mildewed tent And me I just write Often late at night Under a dim light Blessed by second sight

MY DECLARATION OF SELF ESTEEM I AM ME IN ALL THE WORLD, THERE IS NO ONE ELSE EXACTLY LIKE ME EVERYTHING THAT COMES OUT OF ME IS AUTHENTICALLY MINE BECAUSE I ALONE CHOOSE IT- I OWN EVERYTHING ABOUT ME MY BODY, MY FEELINGS, MY MOUTH, MY VOICE, ALL MY ACTIONS, WHETHER THEY BE TO OTHERS OR TO MYSELF- I OWN MY FANTASIES, MY DREAMS, MY HOPES, MY FEARS- I OWN ALL MY TRIUMPHS AND SUCCESSES, ALL MY FAILURES AND MISTAKES BECAUSE I OWN ALL OF ME, I CAN BECOME INTIMATELY ACQUAINTED WITH ME- BY DOING SO I CAN LOVE ME AND BE FRIENDLY WITH ME AND ALL MY PARTS- I KNOW THERE ARE ASPECTS ABOUT MYSELF THAT PUZZLE ME, AND OTHER ASPECTS THAT I DO NOT KNOW- BUT AS LONG AS I AM FRIENDLY AND LOVING TO MYSELF, I CAN COURAGEOUSLY AND HOPEFULLY LOOK FOR SOLUTIONS TO THE PUZZLES AND FOR WAYS TO FIND OUT MORE ABOUT ME- HOWEVER I LOOK AND SOUND, WHATEVER I SAY AND DO, AND WHATEVER I THINK AND FEEL AT A GIVEN MOMENT IN TIME IS AUTHENTICALLY ME- IF LATER SOME PARTS OF HOW I LOOKED, SOUNDED, THOUGHT AND FELT TURN OUT TO BE UNFITTING, I CAN DISCARD THAT WHICH IS UNFITTING, KEEP THE REST, AND INVENT SOMETHING NEW FOR THAT WHICH I DISCARDED- I CAN SEE, HEAR, FEEL, THINK, SAY, AND DO I HAVE THE TOOLS TO SURVIVE, TO BE CLOSE TO OTHERS, TO BE PRODUCTIVE, AND TO MAKE SENSE AND ORDER OUT OF THE WORLD OF PEOPLE AND THINGS OUTSIDE OF ME- I OWN ME, AND THEREFORE I CAN ENGINEER ME- I AM ME AND I AM OKAY -On a poster like a picture with No Name (A toast to the Unknown, xo!) -------------------------------------(-I-AM-ME---@ @@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

Mailed some technology todaysent it on a westerly way it contained music-a-plenty total cost was four-twenty. I got this device from a friend who found a means to an end and through his endeavor reasoned, "better late than never". -woof

How free is versein the current academic climate? Sprawling or terse It's all good so long as you don't rhyme it.

Both Sides3/20/13 Some days are darker than dirt Other days Heaven's shining through Sometimes I wake up in this town Been sitting here too long it's time to take a look around I want to see both sides of the story Life's way too short to let it get too boring Next stop is "doin' fine" Time to gun the engines gonna beat it down the line Some days I'm down under the gun Other days I want to have some fun Oh my, you're looking fine I'm headed down to Boone's Farm if you want to take a ride Then we can see both sides of the story It's you and me, we might be bound for glory Next stop is " out of sight " And we're gonna keep on going 'till we finally get it right Ohhhh what I'm thinking of Ohhhh it's all about Love Ohhhh what I'm thinking of Ohhhh we're Stardust and Love Some days are darker than the dirt Other days Heaven's shining through Sometimes I wake up in this town Been sitting here too long it's time to take a look around I want to see both sides of the story Life's way too short too let it get too boring Next stop is doin' fine Time to gun the engines gonna beat it down the line

Where have all the poets gone?Maybe their out on the lawn Or is that one up in a tree? Their words of life might help us see

Where have all the poets gone?Maybe their out on the lawn Or is that one up in a tree? Their words of life might help us see

i hear everythingthose aren't voices in your head they're just the echoes of your indecision don't ask me ask yourself i know everything those thoughts going around in your head trying to figure out what's right and what's wrong don't ask me ask yourself i feel everything wast it me, us, or them? or was it you? don't ask me ask yourself i am everything why listen to me i'm just the voice inside your head i can't help you help yourself - R.H.

night turns to dayturns to night tide goes out comes in goes out spring follows winter summer follows spring fall follows summer winter follows fall waking, eating, washing working, eating, sleep happiness, sorrow happiness it is all transitory why fight against it? at all costs do not deny it in this saha world all is impermanent attachment to anything causes suffering let go of your collections and you can keep them

I agreean excellent life philosophy consumerism only causes drag learn how to let go of the price tag and when pain and sorrow become acute simplicity should be the sole pursuit by doing this we reduce our needs to little more than spores and seeds - {%} ; - )

Happy Birthday Bob Dylan! May your '72nd year be filled with everything you love best! You're the poem and the song, in my soul, xo! In Harmony and Bliss, Sherry B.

Where are theGrateful Dead and when did they stop following me

Roses are redViolets are blue Happy Father's Day to ALL of You, xo!

This summer will come and Pulling ourselves out of our flower gardens We'll find our favorite shed To see that old group of men Play those songs That have composed The soundtracks of our lives We'll mourn those who have passed And listen to others sing their songs And wonder how anybody Can appreciate this band Who hasn't heard Jerry play At least once in their lives In the end Who sings what With how young a crowd Who never smelled the master bouquet Never does really matter As long as you wore a smile And helped pick up the garbage...

once again, it's time to fly that flag,pop a bag, and remember those whose freedom is gone yet I can't help but wonder, maybe in blunder, exactly what it is that I'm not dependent upon

New directionsSay it out loud Then picture them clad

MY DECLARATION OF SELF ESTEEM I AM ME IN ALL THE WORLD, THERE IS NO ONE ELSE EXACTLY LIKE ME EVERYTHING THAT COMES OUT OF ME IS AUTHENTICALLY MINE BECAUSE I ALONE CHOOSE IT- I OWN EVERYTHING ABOUT ME MY BODY, MY FEELINGS, MY MOUTH, MY VOICE, ALL MY ACTIONS, WHETHER THEY BE TO OTHERS OR TO MYSELF- I OWN MY FANTASIES, MY DREAMS, MY HOPES, MY FEARS- I OWN ALL MY TRIUMPHS AND SUCCESSES, ALL MY FAILURES AND MISTAKES BECAUSE I OWN ALL OF ME, I CAN BECOME INTIMATELY ACQUAINTED WITH ME- BY DOING SO I CAN LOVE ME AND BE FRIENDLY WITH ME AND ALL MY PARTS- I KNOW THERE ARE ASPECTS ABOUT MYSELF THAT PUZZLE ME, AND OTHER ASPECTS THAT I DO NOT KNOW- BUT AS LONG AS I AM FRIENDLY AND LOVING TO MYSELF, I CAN COURAGEOUSLY AND HOPEFULLY LOOK FOR SOLUTIONS TO THE PUZZLES AND FOR WAYS TO FIND OUT MORE ABOUT ME- HOWEVER I LOOK AND SOUND, WHATEVER I SAY AND DO, AND WHATEVER I THINK AND FEEL AT A GIVEN MOMENT IN TIME IS AUTHENTICALLY ME- IF LATER SOME PARTS OF HOW I LOOKED, SOUNDED, THOUGHT AND FELT TURN OUT TO BE UNFITTING, I CAN DISCARD THAT WHICH IS UNFITTING, KEEP THE REST, AND INVENT SOMETHING NEW FOR THAT WHICH I DISCARDED- I CAN SEE, HEAR, FEEL, THINK, SAY, AND DO I HAVE THE TOOLS TO SURVIVE, TO BE CLOSE TO OTHERS, TO BE PRODUCTIVE, AND TO MAKE SENSE AND ORDER OUT OF THE WORLD OF PEOPLE AND THINGS OUTSIDE OF ME- I OWN ME, AND THEREFORE I CAN ENGINEER ME- I AM ME AND I AM OKAY -Author Unknown "ENGINEER ME..."

Hey, René!Shit or get off Descartes You think Therefore You think You are Clever Me too, Only you Don't think So much Anymore

My words now flow whereOnce they had been dammed My sense of myself Commences its run Atop a high peak In the sound of snow Falling, melting down P R E C I P I T O U S L Y Plunging through gullies Ravaging ravines Burnishing boulders Carving canyons clean It breaks for the sea Across a wide plain Before entering The estuary Where I speak with you

mike!

Still warm at the beachWalking a five mile crescent Labor Day leaves a few

My wife with the hair of a wood fireWith the thoughts of heat lightning With the waist of an hourglass With the waist of an otter in the teeth of a tiger My wife with the lips of a cockade and of a bunch of stars of the last magnitude With the teeth of tracks of white mice on the white earth With the tongue of rubbed amber and glass My wife with the tongue of a stabbed host With the tongue of a doll that opens and closes its eyes With the tongue of an unbelievable stone My wife with the eyelashes of strokes of a child's writing With brows of the edge of a swallow's nest My wife with the brow of slates of a hothouse roof And of steam on the panes My wife with shoulders of champagne And of a fountain with dolphin-heads beneath the ice My wife with wrists of matches My wife with fingers of luck and ace of hearts With fingers of mown hay My wife with armpits of marten and of beechnut And of Midsummer Night Of privet and of an angelfish nest With arms of seafoam and of riverlocks And of a mingling of the wheat and the mill My wife with legs of flares With the movements of clockwork and despair My wife with calves of eldertree pith My wife with feet of initials With feet of rings of keys and Java sparrows drinking My wife with a neck of unpearled barley My wife with a throat of the valley of gold Of a tryst in the very bed of the torrent With breasts of night My wife with breasts of a marine molehill My wife with breasts of the ruby's crucible With breasts of the rose's spectre beneath the dew My wife with the belly of an unfolding of the fan of days With the belly of a gigantic claw My wife with the back of a bird fleeing vertically With a back of quicksilver With a back of light With a nape of rolled stone and wet chalk And of the drop of a glass where one has just been drinking My wife with hips of a skiff With hips of a chandelier and of arrow-feathers And of shafts of white peacock plumes Of an insensible pendulum My wife with buttocks of sandstone and asbestos My wife with buttocks of swans' backs My wife with buttocks of spring With the sex of an iris My wife with the sex of a mining-placer and of a platypus My wife with a sex of seaweed and ancient sweetmeat My wife with a sex of mirror My wife with eyes full of tears With eyes of purple panoply and of a magnetic needle My wife with savanna eyes My wife with eyes of water to he drunk in prison My wife with eyes of wood always under the axe My wife with eyes of water-level of level of air earth and fire - André Breton

Time unfoldsin the autumn afternoon. The birds are singing a grateful song that celebrates this day on the Earth. As I waited for the next pack- pack of wild geese flying in formation to a different home an arrow head approach that makes the traveling easy. All knowing it's better together. Singing the song they sing. Someday...

Taking & Giving10/18/13 I wake up and raise the shades Is it sunny - is it grey? Dreamland slowly fades away, into the daily grind I slip into my comfort zone Check messages on the phone Grab the keys it's time to go Who knows what we'll find? We're taking and giving Making a living We're looking for thrills While punching the clock and paying the bills We're out on the town Just cruising around The lost and the found One big family This life is a dance Of time and circumstance And taking the chance To make somebody smile Life's up and it's down It's turning around It's thorns and it's crowns And love is a fine wine Taking and giving Making a living Looking for thrills Punching the clock and paying the bills We're out on the town Just cruising around The lost and the found One big family

smell a rose withdew dripping on red petals open sun rises

Make It Count hot summer nights cold winter days sometimes I got to go out get up above all the haze go sliding down mountains or floating down streams maybe fall from the sky through a sea of dreams it's a once in a lifetime day today it's a once in a lifetime day today it's a once in a lifetime day today so make it count we're out on the field playing the game waiting for the deal the cards are never the same the clock is running on empty it's hail mary time fly with me to the end-zone where everything is all-right it's a once in a lifetime day today it's a once in a lifetime day today it's a once in a lifetime day today let's make it count I'd like to go back to where it all began kids on a slide playing in the sand down by the boardwalk memories in hand a tower has risen celebrations are planned and I want to be there when it's time for the fair dancing for freedom wave your hands in the air it's a once in a lifetime day today it's a once in a lifetime day today it's a once in a lifetime day today go make it count

A formal poemWhose seasoned lines signify Short attention span

Rowing Gently I'm rowing gently down the stream They say that life is but a dream But where the walls come closing in That's where the rapids begin I feel the rushing of the stream I hear the laughter and the screams So hold on tight for the ride We'll make it to the other side I'm walking gently up the trail Into a land of fairy-tales A grizzly bear hands me a flower While pointing to the Rocky towers The trail leads up onto a Table Where people gather telling fables Pilgrims singing nature's song With the Grand One looking on Singing, I believe in your Love I believe it's enough Be it easy or tough I believe in your Love I sail a board upon the sea The wind has come to set me free And as I dance upon the waves Thanksgiving washes over me And suddenly I want to sing I feel the wind beneath my wings While gravity is letting go I get the feeling that you know That I believe in your Love I believe it's enough Be it easy or tough I believe in your Love I'm rowing gently down the stream V1-Am-C-G-F V2-Dm-Am-Em-F Chorus-C-G-F

...and there I was all curled upin a song, remembering the words I had etched on paper from a summer writing I had done about what I had done. So for sport, today I'll type what I read...so you can read it too. I slipped a rolling paper from the pack. I gently wiped the sweat from my sweaty brow and laid it to dry. I had some tobacco on a tray and I spit at it for as thou it were a blessing on it. The dried roses in the vase had many a thorn, I snapped one off. I pricked my skin, like a diabetic, to bring blood across the external threshold that keeps me. As the blood revealed itself I dragged the rolling paper into it and it turned red in spots, then, placed it to dry. I took some time to think... as thinking is to be. I thought about how I was just near dead so near dead, it was close enough to... um yeah, I thought of good and I thought of bad, I thought of my favorite people that lay dead and all the skin, unable to be. My blue eyes filled with silky tears I did not think but then I knew cry into the tobacco and let it dry. I returned hours later after being participatory in breathing. There was a moment to never before; having just arrived. I picked up the skin of now ten thousand chuckles and bent it. I was inside and outside of me and going to beat death one more time! I pinched and put and winced my eye as I rolled a cannon to point to the sky. It was handcrafted and unique and no one around (so to think). I evened it out and twisted it up and with a special kinda lick then made it stick. To bring this one to life I had to get my 40th Anniversary BIC lighter to bring the flame with one special light. I tipped up and in festive supplication pointed it to the sky then woosh it lit. ( insert high cheeky grin). Then next round of thoughts were so jokingly serious. I can't forget Willie on this one so, yeah---one for Willie! I was take back to Rothbury when we smoked the roses from the World Peace Roses before the Dead started. The remorse intact that Willie Nelson didn't get his Roses from the World Peace Mandela Sands. I gave them to My Uncle who was one of Willie's best fans and he had them with him to his dying day. My Uncle is still one of the greatest men I have ever known. My Aunt will not let us smoke him however. My love for him was in those tears, he's in. I have so many beautiful gifts to remind me of his love, we will be forever together in spirit. He loved to smoke Camel's til they cost ten bucks a pack in NY. I inhaled again, sweet and tasty was I. I exhaled and laughed with silliness; it was innocent and robust. As I went for another hit, I knew I had smoked myself, and that I indeed...was good, xo!

THE LEAFS HAVE WON THE STANLEY CUP!!!THE LEAFS HAVE WON THE STANLEY CUP!!! HOLY SHIT!!! THE LEAFS HAVE WON THE STANLEY CUP!!! I hope to hear it my time

St. Distaff's Dayby Robert Herrick (1591=1674) Partly work and partly play You must on St. Distaff's Day: From the plough soon free your team; Then come home and fother them If the maids a-spinning go Burn the flax and fire the tow. Bring in pails of water then, Let the maids bewash the men. Give St. Distaff all the right; Then bid Christmas sport good night And next morrow every one To his own vocation

Resist your reason; embrace entropy.

I sleep on a high blue bedbetween clouded mountains. I am growing a new brain. This one will be sparkly and fine; it will float in the fluid of compassion. I sleep flanked by two fine dogs on a high blue bed between brushed green cotton and purple flannel. I am growing a new heart. It will beat to the rhythm of dreams. Who is it that wakes in the mornings on a high blue bed in this bowl of thick cloud? Is the waker fashioned from this real, or this imagined, world? - Sharon Brogan

When one wakes in the nightdespite sleeping pills, white noise machines, orthopedic pillows, and thinks of oranges --such sweetness-- there it is, that orange, floating brilliantly in this dim room -- and all the things that one must make sense of -- Nehru jackets, bouffant hairdos, threatening French nails -- your attachment to top- less bars, those artificial orbs, that tooty fruity booze -- all this demanding explication in the swooney night with its train whistles and sock-it-to-me buzz, love, American style, the ed- ification of this planet's turn to darkness, the rebellious suicide of the sun, the sweetness of oranges -- where is Lawrence of Arabia when you need him to peel this open, to hand you, one-by-one, these white-veined crescents, dripping with light? -Sharon Brogan

Answering an arbitrary alphabetical advertisementBy boldly brandishing bombastically brilliant bytes Can certainly comprise cacophonous caterwauling (Desire deems derivable daunting dialectic deeds Elastically expanding ego's ersatz erotic extremes Fearless few find flawlessness flowing forth freely)

It is an ordinary deathfor its time, family in a clot around the high, white bed, gull at the window. The man on the bed sticks and twigs, remnants of pain. He opens his hand, lets mine go. The gull lifts from the sill into the solid wall of sky. - Sharon Brogan