Grateful Dead

There once was a hippy who saidoh why am I out of my head it can't be the beer as I was starting to fear perhaps I just need some more Dead ********************************** By trying we can easily learn to endure adversity -- another man's I mean. Mark Twain

"The Impossible Dream" from MAN OF LA MANCHA (1972) music by Mitch Leigh and lyrics by Joe Darion To dream the impossible dream To fight the unbeatable foe To bear with unbearable sorrow To run where the brave dare not go To right the unrightable wrong To love pure and chaste from afar To try when your arms are too weary To reach the unreachable star This is my quest To follow that star No matter how hopeless No matter how far To fight for the right Without question or pause To be willing to march into Hell For a heavenly cause And I know if I'll only be true To this glorious quest That my heart will lie peaceful and calm When I'm laid to my rest And the world will be better for this That one man, scorned and covered with scars Still strove with his last ounce of courage To reach the unreachable star

some birds got different prioritiesI was looking out my aquarium window At the sunrise This magnificently beautiful Tuuesday morning The trees in the park Now losing their leaves To the lawn below I spied a little fluffed up bird In the top of the tree I couldnt put a label on him Whether sparrow pigeon crow or hawk All who take a morning swing Through the park I am up high so when the Seagulls swirl They are right at eye level So it feels like you are in an avian aquarium But the council of crows On their stately morning flight north to the river Ignored the lonely bird Sailing on by And he showed no impulse To join in with them And the swirl of seagulls Passed around under and over him Ignoring him At least eliminating the possibilty that he was a bird of prey For they would not abide that And he showed no desire For the scraps of food they pursue So who A bird of a different cloth With different priorities Perched seemingly weightless On the highest most thin branch Me staring out the dawnlit aquarium window Sparrow hawk crow or seagull You brought grace to my window And showed me the lonebirds way Is a way With different priorities

white needles of painI woke up kissing a porcupine Riding my bike down the lane I got stared down by a chipmunk He stood in the way of my tires Until I stopped He looked at me, and I saw the picture of the guy stopping the tank Never quite lived through a week like this before I always wonder Once we find out what we are good for, Why do we stop And return to lives we do not love? The life of pulling together To help each other Is the only life we will Ever love Blizzard mentality I say In a blizzard everybody pitches in The next day, the sun is out Every man is on his way But when we rise to the occasion Why do we come back down? When a dog bites on a stick He does not give an inch He waits til you are spacing out Then he grabs a little more of the stick He's working while you are dreaming Dog loves the game of stick Cat loves the game of string But when the blizzard comes We all pitch in Once aware it is as he said Pray that you not be led into temptation It is all A matter of perspective And perspectives change.

It was 1838when they told us to start walking I see you below Working Working all day Working all night You are under a house And your man left you standing There Now you are working two jobs 18 hour shifts I just want to Wrap my arms around you While you sleep So you have the feeling My soul to keep Under a mountain Under a house Same trapped feeling No way out So we got to Tunnel on in To find the prisoners of dirt And let them on out When they found the gold Our days here were numbered Numbered by the thousand We left on the way Dead Who was there My soul to keep Exodus movement of a people I am more prism than mirror reflection still the same The dust in the path Of your teardrop Down your face Pressed up against the window Like a tiger in a cage I will set you free No more pacing the length of your cell Now you run free With the Cherokee If you do not want to come up I will let you stay And wish you sweet dreams And a bright new day Moving on in the process Of awakening Feels a lot like dying But at the end you are free Free of the false solid The true solid is liberation Ah, world That once troubled me There are bigger fish to fry In the endless sea I just want to wrap my arms around you And hold you while you cry You may never let me in But I will always Understand why it was 1838 When they told us To start walking

Friends Lyrics: Bernie Taupin I hope the day will be a lighter highway For friends are found on every road Can you ever think of any better way For the lost and weary travellers to go Making friends for the world to see Let the people know you got what you need With a friend at hand you will see the light If your friends are there then everything's all right It seems to me a crime that we should age These fragile times should never slip us by A time you never can or shall erase As friends together watch their childhood fly

oh the indignity ofVultures pecking at my flesh When, for heavens sakes I ain't even dead yet Sentimentality is for Those who can afford it Luxuries don't seem So important To the growling stomach You set them up I knock them down The higher the profile The farther the fall And the bigger the splash When it all goes bad Eh,heh eh, heh What do you say? Interest and value Have real meaning Outside of money If I have no value You have no interest Except to move me Out of your way If you ever want to Go to zombie land Just stop caring Easy trip to ghoulville Where they gnaw on each others limbs I prefer the softer scene Of the helping hand A leg up onto rock Where the tents are Gathered And the flag Waves free Everybody welcome In reality Free Of all this misery Oh the indignity Sweet little angel You gave it all to me What am I supposed To do with it?

You look like the morning sunMore golden than a thousand summers I was once a sunfighter Till your spell made me mortal

If you're goingWhere you're going When you're going If you're going When you're getting there. When you're sighing As you're flying No more crying While you're dying We won't forget you're there. If you're going Where you're going When you're going If you're going Are you getting there? If you're sighing When you're flying No more crying While you're dying Don't forget to care If you're going Where you're going When you're going If you're knowing Then you're getting there When you're sighing As you're flying You've been crying No more dying We won't leave you there. No more crying No more dying When you're flying Don't forget to care.

Rockin' Pneumonia and Boogie Woogie Flu Lyrics By: John Vincent/Huey 'Piano' Smith I want to jump but I'm afraid I'll fall I want to holler but the joint's too small Young man rhythm got a hold on me too I got the rockin' pneumonia and the boogie woogie flu I want to kiss, baby, that ain't all I want to kiss her but the gal's too small Young man rhythm got a hold on me too I got the rockin' pneumonia and the boogie woogie flu I want to holler, baby, don't you know I would be running but my feet's too slow Young man rhythm got a hold on me too I got the rockin' pneumonia and the boogie woogie flu I want to scream but that ain't all My baby loves me, Lord, she's carrying on Young man rhythm got a hold on me too I got the rockin' pneumonia and the boogie woogie flu I want to jump but I'm afraid I'll fall I want to holler but the joint's too small Young man rhythm got a hold on me too I got the rockin' pneumonia and the boogie woogie flu I want to scream, baby, that ain't all I want to kiss her but the girl's too tall Young man rhythm got a hold on me too I got the rockin' pneumonia and the boogie woogie flu

My great big love song ooooh, baby, yeah Pick any three chords To back it up I'm so tired I'm going to sleep Play it like you mean it And bring it with a Big finish ooooh, baby, yeah ooooh, baby ooooh, baby, yeah

Behind Blue Eyes - Pete Townshend No one knows what it's like To be the bad man To be the sad man Behind blue eyes No one knows what it's like To be hated To be fated To telling only lies But my dreams They aren't as empty As my conscience seems to be I have hours, only lonely My love is vengeance That's never free No one knows what it's like To feel these feelings Like I do And I blame you No one bites back as hard On their anger None of my pain and woe Can show through But my dreams They aren't as empty As my conscience seems to be I have hours, only lonely My love is vengeance That's never free When my fist clenches, crack it open Before I use it and lose my cool When I smile, tell me some bad news Before I laugh and act like a fool If I swallow anything evil Put your finger down my throat If I shiver, please give me a blanket Keep me warm, let me wear your coat No one knows what it's like To be the bad man To be the sad man Behind blue eyes

stupid powerwar and hate whoo hoo run as far as you can with it it still gets you no where when you're using dead flesh to haul your load around how smart can you get? you're working with nothing but meanness and anger that ain't got no smart in it running around town to tell everybody, but you got no idea how to run your own show you just set off at the first thing that lets you blow your smokey smoke while the gardener quietly gardens and the flowers steadily grow what a season for wild flowers the streets were full of the heavenly rainbow glows now it is time to rip up what won't make it through the winter while I rub your neck with oil don't think that I don't know one piece was made for the other piece so right to take it slow walking on love power no need to run on stupid power anymore hate don't thrill me walking the line won't kill me if you weren't listening I wouldn't be higher without the death of my desire upon the spit of your fear without your frightful actions I'd still be splattered across your windshield of tears until the wiper's swipe washes the picture clear she was just a city girl you are a princess of the paddies walking ankle deep in water bending to pick a lotus near the iridescent carp twisting out of view let the fear dream dissolve to reveal what was happening all the time your dreams already come true walking through the city of light a touch of your thought raising shatters the dream all about you and so the sick man puts away his bed and sits at meal and stays away from stupid power and walks in the light following always his best sense of right he meets her in the clearing in the woods and they have a picnic while the animals of the forest sit about and watch as the afternoon light pierces the canopy with its golden hues

Within You Without You - George Harrison We were talking About the space between us all And the people Who hide themselves behind a wall Of illusion Never glimpse the truth Then it's far too late When they pass away We were talking About the love we all could share When we find it To try our best to hold it there With our love, with our love We could save the world, if they only knew Try to realize it's all within yourself No one else can make you change And to see you're really only very small And life flows on within you and without you We were talking About the love that's gone so cold And the people Who gain the world and lose their soul They don't know They can't see Are you one of them When you've seen beyond yourself Then you may find, peace of mind is waiting there And the time will come when you see we're all one And life flows on within you and without you

If (Waters) If I were a swan, I'd be gone. If I were a train, I'd be late. And if I were a good man, I'd talk with you More often than I do. If I were to sleep, I could dream. If I were afraid, I could hide. If I go insane, please don't put Your wires in my brain. If I were the moon, I'd be cool. If I were a book, I would bend for you. If I were a good man, I'd understand The spaces between friends. If I were alone, I would cry. And if I were with you, I'd be home and dry. And if I go insane, And they lock me away, Will you still let me join in the game? If I were a swan, I'd be gone. If I were a train, I'd be late again. If I were a good man, I'd talk with you More often than I do.

Oh my goshGolly gee What is this feeling That has Come over me; It's too thick to be Melted butter, Runs too fast To be an egg; It's a warm wet feeling Sliding down my neck. Working its' way back slow Flowing right into my spine Now I gotta move Cause it's starting to climb That is probably A good time Good time. I got stuck in Reno Just before the fall And I had to Take it all I had to take it all. I got a condition That ain't gone bad Where is my physician For when I'm feeling mad. Silly me, I left my Heart in the bay Washed up on the shore of dreams. Nothing remains Not what it seems. More like the reverse In a funny upside down Inside out world Of circus fleas And dirty underwear. I got stuck in Reno Just before the fall And I had to Take it all I had to take it all.

It's time in our neighborhood to say hello to everyone.From window to window call and response voices cast welcome to the wind. Bravo it's time to listen again to thee provocateur of master verse Maestro lessons were given, students were taught. Soul reflective in the midterm giving thanks for the transition of the season. Amongst the sacrifice as the kind (light) mind of universal understanding. They painted a painting of a rear view mirror, think they can see themselves? As intuitive air discovered inside a myth of melted glacier. Miscellaneous complications, defeated in their limitations delegated Engine size isn't as important as driving hard. Industrial trail, lost road home sharing the cud of a fuel source future modern Will lead us to follow, with the blessings of hot sauce and winter wheels.

Came by to read some of your words,like I always do but never post here. Thank you All who post your poetry in this thread. I shouldn't have been silent with my praise for so long. It's such a great thread! Inspired by the evenings moments and my old friend who has now has reached his ultimate high and new location, I'll leave one here. He was a songwriter and guitar player. We rocked out a great Me and Bobby MeGee. He sang Put Another Log On The Fire with a grin that you couldn't help smiling with. He's gone...so this one is for him and y'all. This poem was written in the early 1990's after an old lady I knew died that spring. She was very poor and rented a small second floor apartment that the landlord never updated since he bought the place in the 1950's. She lived alone and seldom complained. She loved God and prayed to a picture of Jesus in a garden by a hill. She was resilient to her poverty. Her clothes were often torn or tattered, though she wore them proudly. This scene is her funeral. Her family pooled their money together to give her this gift. The Poor Woman Dies It was warm in the room, the lights were soft and comfortable. The walls were papered with rich golden felt-stenciled diamonds. The chairs were hand-crafted leather and they embraced your exterior when you sat noble in them. The carpet under-foot was an elegant pattern of roses in bloom, double padded underneath. The tissue boxes had their own brass holders. The scent of fresh flowers surrounded each person and it penetrated their clothes. She was at the far end of this incredibly large room. So tucked in her silk-lined coffin. She was stunning. Her blonde white hair was magnificant and not one was out of place. The make-up she wore softened the years underneath. Her dress was dreamy, a pastel color, with an overcoat to match. And placed precisely where it should be, the most beautiful brooch I'd ever seen. The kneeling bench beside her casket invited me to gaze longer. This woman had never lain in such a fine place. She had it all, every last thing. Her pillow was brand new.

It's time in our neighborhood to say hello to everyoneFrom window to window, call and response voices cast welcome to the wind. Everyone who passes through is renewed with the revival of the hearts best intention Acts, true to the way of love, bind similarities amongst species, aglow in the light of their lord. Soul's reflective in the midterm, giving thanks for this transition of season Amongst the sacrifice, as kind (light) mind of universal understanding beckons. Bravo, it's time to listen again to thee provocateur of master verse Maestro, lessons were given, students were taught. Unfamiliar animals laugh over solutions neither of them know that much about Formulating a sense of shared improvement proven upon the chance to smell lucky. Do tell, let the people be heard, "gas is for losers" so says the highway of deduction Back seat beauty tips, being certain is better, engine size isn't as important as driving hard. Miscellaneous dilemma developed a complicated knot of a north corner's dyslectic k turn Defeated in its delegated limitation, who ever does the most with the least wins. From a measure of regurgitate exhausted, cough coal's scientific disappointment with the dull flat earth We are free to maintain intervals of penetration, causing an effect upon the firmaments maintenance. Yield, no say over content, arguing over the right of way in the passing lane In the war against innovation, medical technology and energy independence. Industrial trail, lost road home, sharing the cud of a fuel source, future modern Will lead us to follow, with the blessings of hot sauce and winter wheels. They've painted a painting of a rear view mirror, think they can see themselves? Being intuitive as air discovered inside the modern day myth of melted glaciers. Ghostly grain of the night flower where once only roots took hold Of our family and friends who've died have left us behind to dignify each other.

BobAs evening graced my deck I looked up at the sky through the leafless branches of the sweet Maple Trees knowing the days ago Their Golden Leaves fell All Around Me, Loving me like the Lyrics of Your Songs. xo I stood in the moonlight All Alone in This night with you, Mr. Dylan. Loving you with All My Heart In the Moonlight @ Midnight For t he Letters of your Words meant Everything, To Me. And I told God how much I loved you, reguarlessly X~ ~ of how you felt about it and the Rest of It. Everynight is a Good Night when It comes to My Love, for you. Thank you for All Your Words. I Love You, Mr. B. Dylan ---------------------(---@ Sherry B

In the still of the nightShe moves, She brings me moonlight And fills my cup. With its pale crescent shape Dangling over pines profiled; Against the breaking morning sky Enter the moment forever Don't hesitate. Under blue dawn sky In the cabin by the stream It was real, the end of the dream; Bending over to wake you With a kiss Into this eternal day Out of the clay Into the light In the still of the night She comes to me in moonlight The serpent is tamed The rain goes away In the still of the night She moves She brings me moonlight

Visions of Johanna Lyrics By: Bob Dylan Ain't it just like the night to play tricks when you're tryin' to be so quiet? Sitting here stranded, though we're all doin' our best to deny it And Louise holds a handful of rain, temptin' you to defy it Lights flicker from the opposite loft In this room the heat pipes just cough The country music station plays soft But there's nothing, really nothing, to turn off Just Louise and her lover so entwined And these visions of Johanna that conquer my mind In the empty lot where the ladies play blindman's bluff with a key chain And all-night girls they whisper of escapades out on the "D" train We can hear the night watchman click his flashlight Ask himself if it's him or them that's insane But Louise she's alright, she's just near She's delicate and seems like the mirror She just makes it all so concise and so clear That Johanna's not here The ghost of electricity howls in the bones of her face Where these visions of Johanna have now taken my place Now, little boy lost, he takes himself so seriously He brags of his misery, he likes to live dangerously And when bringing her name up, he speaks of her farewell kiss to me He's sure got a lot of gall, to be so useless and all Muttering small talk at the wall, while I'm in the hall How can I explain? It's so hard to get on And these visions of Johanna they kept me up past the dawn Inside the museums, Infinity goes up on trial Voices echo this is what salvation must be like after a while Mona Lisa must have had the highway blues, you can tell by the way she smiles See the primitive wallflower freeze When the jelly-faced women all sneeze Hear the one with the mustache say "Jeeze, I can't find my knees" Jewels and binoculars hang from the head of the mule But these visions of Johanna make it all seem so cruel The peddlar now speaks to the countess who's pretending to care for him Saying "Name me someone that's not a parasite and I'll go out and say a prayer for him" But like Louise always says "Ya can't look at much can ya man?" As she, herself, prepares for him And Madonna she still has not showed We see this empty cage now corrode Where her cape of the stage once had flowed The fiddler now steps to the road He writes everything's been returned which was owed On the back of the fish truck that loads While my conscience explodes The harmonicas play the skeleton keys and the rain And these visions of Johanna are now all that remain And these visions of Johanna are now all that remain

The Buddha sitsIn Brooklyn 71st and 7th Down by the water Next to a cat Turning the wheel To get where it's at, Ripening fruit. The Buddha Sits in Brooklyn In the King's land Awaiting the prince No self to equate occupy not Release is final and irreversible. The allness of good is a puddle we all sit in While dreaming Of the illusion of two When it all adds up Three to one, blastoff. The Buddha sits in brooklyn White apartment walls venetian blinds closed It could be anywhere In the world Tall bookshelves Sirens wail The world Spins a little Like a top Watching people turn green with envy Blue with sorrow Red with anger And golden to white while reflecting the puddle of love divine. Shedding all the colors Harmony regained and perfectly maintained. Never seen MSG quite like that again. Saturday night The Buddha sits in Brooklyn It might be excused If he rocked a bit.

Jokerman Lyrics by Bob Dylan Standing on the waters casting your bread While the eyes of the idol with the iron head are glowing Distant ships sailing into the mist You were born with a snake in both of your fists while a hurricane was blowing Freedom just around the corner for you But with the truth so far off, what good will it do? Jokerman dance to the nightingale tune Bird fly high by the light of the moon Oh, oh, oh, Jokerman So swiftly the sun sets in the sky You rise up and say goodbye to no one Fools rush in where angels fear to tread Both of their futures, so full of dread, you don’t show one Shedding off one more layer of skin Keeping one step ahead of the persecutor within Jokerman dance to the nightingale tune Bird fly high by the light of the moon Oh, oh, oh, Jokerman You’re a man of the mountains, you can walk on the clouds Manipulator of crowds, you’re a dream twister You’re going to Sodom and Gomorrah But what do you care? Ain’t nobody there would want to marry your sister Friend to the martyr, a friend to the woman of shame You look into the fiery furnace, see the rich man without any name Jokerman dance to the nightingale tune Bird fly high by the light of the moon Oh, oh, oh, Jokerman Well, the Book of Leviticus and Deuteronomy The law of the jungle and the sea are your only teachers In the smoke of the twilight on a milk-white steed Michelangelo indeed could’ve carved out your features Resting in the fields, far from the turbulent space Half asleep near the stars with a small dog licking your face Jokerman dance to the nightingale tune Bird fly high by the light of the moon Oh, oh, oh, Jokerman Well, the rifleman’s stalking the sick and the lame Preacherman seeks the same, who’ll get there first is uncertain Nightsticks and water cannons, tear gas, padlocks Molotov cocktails and rocks behind every curtain False-hearted judges dying in the webs that they spin Only a matter of time ’til night comes steppin’ in Jokerman dance to the nightingale tune Bird fly high by the light of the moon Oh, oh, oh, Jokerman It’s a shadowy world, skies are slippery grey A woman just gave birth to a prince today and dressed him in scarlet He’ll put the priest in his pocket, put the blade to the heat Take the motherless children off the street And place them at the feet of a harlot Oh, Jokerman, you know what he wants Oh, Jokerman, you don’t show any response Jokerman dance to the nightingale tune Bird fly high by the light of the moon Oh, oh, oh, Jokerman Copyright © 1983 by Special Rider Music

Picture a bright blue ball, just spinning, spinning free,Dizzy with eternity. Merry X-Mass War is Over (dinosaur oil) June 4, 1989, Tiananmen Square (Be Here Now)

Happy Christmas, Jersey, and warmest thoughts to all. Some exceptional Deadheads tracked me down and delivered a box of writings from the 80s and 90s, this seems as good as time as any to post some of it. Thanks T and M, it was good to see you again. Love to all - Andy

A little ahead, a little behindIt's not right, until it's kind And we're seeing the diamonds And we're seeing the diamonds And we're seeing the diamonds in the sky The afterglow of ecstasy Leaves its pawprint All over your heart But we're not finished Until we're done done Until we're done done And we're seeing the diamonds Seeing the diamonds And we're seeing the diamonds in the sky. At every opening Every break in the clouds Eagerly seeking Endlessly searching for the sky Then we will be Seeing the diamonds Seeing ghe diamonds in the sky One day while not even trying We will find The clouds dissolve Revealing clear sky And even though we won't know We'll be seeing the diamonds We'll be seeing the diamonds We'll be seeing the diamonds In the sky. 11/14/8? Appalachian Gap

aint that nicedont even have to think twice jump on it wont have that chance again once in a lifetime sitting with the prince that's not nice playing both sides singing like you're sitting over here but your shoes are over there your hearts in the right place now how about we do something about your feet that's so nice don't have to think twice took a twirl right about the time your hair started to curl blond like an angel next to me at camp creek when the fireworks went off you grabbed my arm that's how we met now we keep each other warm from a million miles away I wrote a song in 1995 about you in 1873 when I met you you're a strange girl but I love you

Never to this day had I before heldWhat starts so sweet Where is it gone No, not you, not dying in my arms Your words come over me In your voice, I think it's me Of not much more I care On dirt ground bed I swear I could sleep right there It's your dancing singing beaming's where I am ~~~~~~~~~~~~ there's nothing like the evening Is this where the day ...begins to end? Is this good-bye friend what they call curtain call Or is it still playing? I swear I can still hear your song Am I dreaming, sleeping too much to dare be true I close my eyes I can't say how long I can't say how glad I am to know it's you

it ain't me, I don't thinkit ain't me, I don't think it ain't me, I don't think it ain't me, I don't think.

nothing means anything any more my word your handshake there is nothing standing behind it anymore It is all empty Of substance Nobody stands behind What they say They just expect you to believe, be easily persuaded, or just give up and go away. it all means nothing assurances promises all empty every thing comes with a warning yeah, I got it dude I lived through the 80s Although there are those Who may say to my face That perhaps I didnt make it out alive. The perishable part Is rotten from the inside Adamantine mind shine In a world of lie cheat and steal What you do You do for money You never found another reason Why? For when what would be The last helping hand Reaches in To steal your meds And says "Love ya, dude" On the way out the door, You've got to say Your pain of a different kind Has made you blind Like stealing the coin Out of a blind man's cup There ain't nothing much for you now It's gone from Looking up to looking up Nothing means nothing Anymore A word a handshake there is nothing Standing behind it Anymore It is all empty promises Effective only to The point that you are willing To be deceived. Here take this pill To go up And this pill to go down Dont mind the dizziness Or diarrhea Common symptoms include death. Oh, yeah, I'll take ten of those Babies Who knew that All these imaginary diseases Could be so lucrative If you can just get them to overlook The fine print The side effects To believing In dust.

The wound you left gapinghas raw, oozing edges and a hollow, black center. Some try to fill holes with drink, food, or meds. But I cannot. EXCEPT last night a chocolate was soothing Dark-you were no milky guy. You were a rich taste that burst on the tongue and trickles to the belly to stay there. Warm and sweet, yet complexly strong flavor Giving energy. (I know it's awful, but it just came out as is) ********************************** I am not young enough to know everything. Oscar Wilde

The farthest you'll ever have to goto reach someone you love is when the journey can only be completed in your mind. How comfortingly ironic then that the trip takes but an instant and you always have the fare in hand. Conversation is always more interesting than recitation, so speak your mind and not someone else's.

Forever gratefulGrateful aligned unexplainable unexplainable unexplainable time Drenched of colors sound surround stomp patchouli acid ...jingle and rhyme streaming dreadlocks streaming living pores Grooving moving flying motion like birds What you and I heard is What you and I heard Miracles on shakedown street Dance... what you & I heard what you & I heard

First off, I love this thread. I have been reading post after post finding inspiration to write myself. So for all you who post here, please, keep it up!!!! I run the poetry slam in San Antonio and every week for the past 59 weeks I have written and performed a new 3 minute slam poem. A lot of them are hippie and music related because I am a hippie who loves music. This poem was inspired by a baby sitter I had when I was 8 who taught me at a young age to appreciate jazz, which I think helped open my ears to the Dead when I was only 13. Its kind of long but I hope you enjoy. THE JAZZ SITTER In certain circles she was known simply as The Jazz Sitter A mousy whisper of a girl who had no interest in the 16 year old boys her friends craved Nor no appeal for the 16 year old girls she secretly desired But to a growing pack of 8 and 9 year old boys She was the only woman----Other than our mothers ----That we truly loved Her street worth: 5 dollars an hour plus all the ice cream she could eat She wowed parents with Wise Beyond Her Years babysitting skills and Made us boys weak in our scraped knees with Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens We were smitten Crippled by school boy crushes two times more mystifying than any other because At 8 to her 16 We were still years away from thinking of her breasts as nothing more than sources of nourishment Me? A musically malnourished munchkin raised on a steady diet of Dad’s Rhinestone Cowboys and Mom’s Dancing Queens And back in 78 when punk infested every scene The Jazz Sitter pierced her ears with music more rebellious Than Johnny Rotten ever dared to be And when the Jazz Sitter sat…..We listened We had no choice or else Popcorn? burnt Popsicles? withheld Bed time? Criminally early We yielded to her power and she exposed us to her passion We were baptized anew as Jazz Babies And given musical transfusions that replaced our anemic Barry Manilow blood With fresh new pints of Mingus and Dolphy For his ninth birthday, Steven sent his parents scrambling for a psychiatrist when he asked for Herbie Hancock’s Thrust Evan refused to eat dinner for weeks until his parents took him to see Miles Davis brew some bitches And I cried for Coltrane and then spent my tenth birthday shooting up The Love Supreme behind a locked bedroom door I fell in love with her And then I fell in love with jazz She taught me seek compassion in chaos and comfort in sonic sheets of sounds And had me believing that Miles Davis achieved perfection with Kind of Blue But years later, when I laid eyes upon a Kind Blue Eyed Beauty one hot July night at a poetry slam I realized that I misunderstood the whole lesson Miles Davis created The Platonic Ideal of beauty and slapped it on a slab of hot wax And the day after I first met her I dropped that needle in its groove and Without saying a word the sounds that filled my room celebrated Her Beauty with notes played years before she was even born The Man with the Horn captured that essence that she captured and that afternoon I realized that I had been captured And though I hadn’t thought about my Jazz Sitter in years I realized that she had captured my heart and trained it to look for real beauty In music In noise In chaos In places I never thought it could be And it was only when I found it for myself Behind a strangers kind blue eyes Would the Jazz sitter set me free And let me truly fall in love J.T. Gossard http://thehallucinogenicbible.blogspot.com/

I see colors in theMorning sky Look above me and I See the eagle fly There stands Shasta Mighty as a king I start up Casaval and I Hear the angels sing Four hours I climb And everything is still And then the wind blows As I top off Misery Hill Now I see The summit rising high Guess I know what it means to Kiss the sky Here I stand Upon the summit peak I'm feeling so high That I don't even speak And I wonder As I'm looking all around I could stay here forever But I guess I'll Just go down That's an oldy. Lived in Mt. Shasta for 12 years. Made it to the summit of the 14,162 ft. peak 10 times by 6 different routes. 5 of those times were winter ascents where I became first person of the year to the top. thanks jm

I really need to come here more often , I just dont get the time I used to have . Thank you all for posting your words .. " Life is`nt about running from the storm, it`s about learning to dance in the rain "

thank you stuman for suggesting my favorite forum, love yer little saying too!

The Trail2/1/11 Twas blowin' dusty on a hot summer day Along the Platte there moved a wagon train Bound for the Promised Land where all is well But first they'll have to skirt the gates of hell They could have stayed nice and safe at home But here they are out where the buffalo roam Learnin' what it'll take to survive And finding out they've never felt so alive The days roll by and they come to a fork Some go south while some head north Through many dangers, toils, and snares Livin' a dream that they will always share chorus Now go, and find your home And build it out of stone Hold on, and don't let go It's a long and winding road Some made it up to Oregon Others travelled to the land of sun Doin' what it took to get it done Builders of all that was to come Off the coasts of the Columbia A clipper sails into the setting sun A pioneer sits with a long-lost friend They're goin' back and gonna do it again Now go, and find your home And build it out of stone Hold on, and don't let go It's a long and winding road

sittn n my brck iglusppn a wrm bvrage thght rises as bld splls whch pctre du I wtch? dnt go dwn 2 pharo lnd less u wnt a bttle if u pt a dipr on hm he luk gd in a rttle pharos, tsars, and emprrs we gt em we gt th gvt we dsrve wggling thru a stne tunnl trnd inside out wnt fit 2 tite mnkey with hs hnd in the jr wnt drp the stck 2nite ktty wth a silent prrr u got to gt ur hd rght up nxt 2 hr hoo du I pt at th cntr of me? ths nowhrville or infnty

Roses are red,Violets are not... I like peanutbutter, Can you skate?

Roses are of many colors Violets , mostly blue.... I like the almond butter, but my skating's not so hot....

Rose and a bouillabaiseViolets bathe in vase Like Peter Pan we fly tonight What would Brian Boitano say?

Nice progression Shaggy....

Roses, Callas, CrocusesMagnolias on Georgia's mind Soft and dewy petals spread Exposing sweet nectar inside The busy buzzing visitors Alight to pistols drawn Happy apian gigolos and the new Spring virgins spawn It's been a long, cold winter And the time for new growth Is now Conversation is always more interesting than recitation, so speak your mind and not someone else's.

Good stuff Mr Pid....