Grateful Dead

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Hozomeen's picture
Joined: Jun 22 2007
the engine room

the engine room, a safe place;

it’s where I’m supposed to be.

nobody complains when I’m working,

except maybe the chief.

and nobody cares about him,

he’s just a fat old version of me.

but I can’t find the door

to where I used to be.

so what happens now?

we’ll just have to wait and see.

Joined: May 30 2008
Rise from the Bottom

every day I awake quaking fire heart
knowing that I'm part of the heavy soul existence of God, Ja, Jehova
I'm just a lover, but society keeps getting in my way

everyday it happens
I'm learning that I can't escape
raping me of what I am
I'm just a lover
and, society keeps getting in my way

everyday I feel the pain
draining energies/pure ache
I'm just a lover,
but society keeps getting in my way

Joined: May 30 2008
Lyricist for the Zen Tricksters to Perform on June 21st in NY

Writer for the Zen Tricksters, Pozzy Ghuru, The Dave Diamond Band, The Mighty Underdogs and others.....Billy Capozzi (Poem of the day guy)...will be reuniting with his band (that has played and recorded many times with Buddy Cage on Pedal Steel (from New Riders of the Purple Sage) "FINALLY BALANCED," at Lefty's in Long Island, NY on JUNE 21ST for the first time since 2003. The intense poet of improvisational feel is coming into town from the California desert where he's been working on sounds for tv and movie gigs to NY for the first time since he left in 2004. You don't want to miss this! For information call 661-972-0907, or, 661-406-2806 .......

Flowpoetry's picture
Joined: May 30 2008
Firefly by Flowpoetry


This is not for the squeamish and those afraid of dark,

Afraid of gone to new day like fireflies without a spark,

Those rubber ducky babies with silver spoons all tucked in bed,

Hyena howling tiger lillies stretched waiting for the dead,

Wooky bearded babas squatting in the dust smoking head.

This is for the hurried few dragged along by teams of dogs,

Stuck beside heart’s ditch of mud cast ashore like driftwood logs,

Sand strewn nymphs red ball bounce upon the beach,

New York bound cats grin ants stuck in their teeth,

Bowler capped boys chuckling tweak the beast.

So come all ye’ hula hooping maidens gamboling on the lawn,

Frogs a’courting moonbeams and velvet painted dawn,

Silver saddle stirrups and guitars made of rain,

Wing footed fleet streeters dancing out the pain,

Tree hugging butterflies with no need to explain.

Joined: Mar 12 2008

Creating, light from the darkness
Shining, this is who we are
Growing, falling down and getting up again, and again
Searching for our God

Glory, from the mountains to the sea
Beauty, on everybodies face
Holy, is the way I feel when you hold me
TELL ME, do you believe in Love?

Waiting, for the liberating force to call on me,
and finally set me free
Going, to a land of everlasting love, and peace
Where everything's OK


hackster's picture
Joined: Jun 4 2007
Round rain is always

Round rain is always rain.
Medulla oblongata is always brain.


On The Road Again's picture
Joined: Sep 2 2007
Pacific West Coast Holiday

(One of my favorites. Maybe one day I can get the recording online. . . )

As the four winds slowly blow away
The leaves all run
While the palm trees sway
Pacific West Coast holiday

Like the river flowing
Up to the sea
Some force of Nature's guiding me
There's no need to run
Run and hide
We'll stand alone and side by side
Watch the river flow
Pacific West Coast holiday

Two weeks have gone
Now the time has passed
We're not the first and
We're not the last
The play has surely lost its cast
Its time to go

Farewell my love don't you cry
no more
We'll meet again
On those distant shores
And there again
We'll laugh and we'll play
Pacific West Coast holiday

Hozomeen's picture
Joined: Jun 22 2007
dead family

I smiled inside...I finally got a ride

it was a bus all filled up with heads

they looked me over and checked me out

and I just smiled behind

the guy in the back was eagle eyes cautious

the girls up front took my pack

my black pocket tee says nothing about me

my pants are dull and brown, the road is all they've seen...

but my boots, my boots, steel toes and, brown leather, epoxy and glue and sheet metal screws...and soles I cut out of cork from the bulletin board...they're covered in salt water and blood and tears and grease and diesel and sand and mud...ash and humus and dog shit too, oh yes, my boots will tell stories to you...

it didn't take long

I knew the words to all the songs

and they knew the words to my soul

the bus rolled on to where I was goin'

and my mind reeled out of control

it went this way and that with significant facts

hey dig this man, until thwack...

that awful familiar sting

it was the guy in the back

he gave me a whack

a flat handed smack

like something I'd felt somewhere before

I stood there in shock

as the tears welled up

and caught a smile

out of the eyes in the backs of my feet

it wasn't a whack, or even a smack

it was my brother from my dead family

On The Road Again's picture
Joined: Sep 2 2007
Working on the music for this one

(words will probably change a few times before all is said and done. . . )

Clouds blocked out the sun today
Like they did the day before
Now the world's a little colder
Since you walked on out the door

Guess I should have seen it coming
They're right though, love is blind
Thought for sure we'd make it
Never dreamed I'd be left behind

Heartache seems to follow me
Love's here and then its gone
Well the hardest part of losing you
Was finding me alone

What am I gonna do now
Can't face another day
Wondering how it all went wrong
And why you went away

Now the bed's so cold and empty
And my pillow's turned to stone
Yeah the hardest part of losing you
Was finding me alone

DeadNextDoor's picture
Joined: Oct 24 2007
dead afternoon

Clattering chime mumbles as myriad breezes blow.
Clunk chitty chunk, clunkety clunk.
Numb noggin knockin' against knee,
Memories turned to dust and spider sacks.
Chug chug chug, hill thug inhales deep
Then smoke curls through lonely eye sockets.
"Wanna dance punk?" Spinning cord holds it for now.
Boo woo woo, old dog grumbles and farts,
Spasming, dreaming, pawing wood pile,
Fat tick still sucking as legs dissappear.
"Fuckin' bug!" Thick fingers pop it like a grape
And leave it dangling for amusement.
Greasy dust cakes old bike parts with years of intended use.
Lost lipstick case fills with dirt to adorn lips already covered.
Piney breeze stirs carpal strands to aimless tickling
While numb noggin knocks out of time.


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