Grateful Dead

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

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.

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

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

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

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

(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. ----------------------------------------------

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.

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

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.”