I'll start with one that I just ran across, it hit me juuust right.

:-)

Albert Einstein on consciousness A human being is a part of the whole, called by us Universe, a part limited in time and space. He experiences himself, his thoughts and feelings as something separated from the rest-a kind of optical delusion of his consciousness. This delusion is a kind of prison, restricting us to our personal desires and to affection for a few persons nearest to us. Our task must be to free from this prison by widening our circle of compassion to embrace all living creatures and the whole nature in its beauty.

...Got any you like?

-- Patty (SycamoreHollow@aol.com), August 29, 2002

Answers

All the years combine, they melt into a dream, A broken angel sings from a guitar. In the end there's just a song comes cryin' up the night Thru all the broken dreams and vanished years. Stella blue. Stella blue.

When all the cards are down, there's nothing left to see, There's just the pavement left and broken dreams.

In the end there's still that song comes cryin' like the wind. Down every lonely street that's ever been Stella blue. Stella blue.

It all rolls into one and nothing comes for free, There's nothing you can hold, for very long. And when you hear that song come crying like the wind, It seems like all this life was just a dream. Stella blue. Stella blue.

-- Jerry G. (cottonfarm@netlink.com), September 03, 2002.

She come skimming through rays of violet She can wade in a drop of dew She don't come and I don't follow Waits backstage while I sing to you

She can dance a Cajun rhythm Jump like a Willys in four wheel drive She's a summer love in the spring, fall and winter She can make happy any man alive

Sugar magnolia Ringin' that blue bell Caught up in sunlight Come on out singing I'll walk you in the sunshine Come on honey, come along with me

She's got everything delightful She's got everything I need A breeze in the pines in the summer night moonlight Crazy in the sunlight yes indeed

Sometimes when the cuckoo's crying When the moon is halfway down Sometimes when the night is dying I take me out and I wander round I wander round

Sunshine daydream Walk you the tall trees Going where the wind goes Blooming like a red rose Breathing more freely Light out singing I'll walk you in the morning sunshine Sunshine daydream Walk you in the sunshine

-- Patty (SycamoreHollow@aol.com), September 03, 2002.

It figures!!

-- Steve (unreal@home.com), September 03, 2002.

After he had journeyed, And his feet were sore, And he was tired, He came upon an orange grove And he rested. And he lay in the cool, And while he rested, he took unto himself an orange and tasted it, And it was good. And he felt the earth to his spine, And he asked, and he saw the tree above him, and the stars, And the veins in the leaf And the light, and the balance, And he saw magnificent perfection, Whereon he thought of himself in balance, And he knew he was. Just open your eyes, And realise, the way it's always been. Just open your mind And you will find The way it's always been. Just open your heart, And that's a start. And he thought of those he angered, For he was not a violent man, And he thought of those he hurt, For he was not a cruel man And he thought of those he frightened For he was not an evil man, And he understood. He understood himself. Upon this he saw that when he was of anger or knew hurt or felt fear, It was because he was not understanding, And he learned compassion. And with his eye of compassion He saw his enemies like unto himself, And he learned love. Then, he was answered.

Just open your eyes, And realise, the way it's always been. Just open your mind And you will find The way it's always been. Just open your heart, And that's a start.

-- Graeme Edge (moodyminds@space.com), September 03, 2002.

Blackbird singin' in the dead of night

Take these broken wings and learn to fly

All your life

You were only waiting for this moment to arrive

Blackbird singin' in the dead of night

Take these sunken eyes and learn to see

All your life

You were only waiting for this moment to be free

Blackbird fly, Blackbird fly

Into the light of the dark black night

Blackbird singin' in the dead of night

Take these broken wings and learn to fly

All your life

You were only waiting for this moment to arrive

You were only waiting for this moment to arrive

You were only waiting for this moment to arrive

-- Patty (SycamoreHollow@aol.com), September 03, 2002.

Funny you should post those two songs . When I was convinced to see Bob Weir play at the Tennessee theatre with Rat Dog last year . He played black bird... But he didn't play Sugar Magnolia.....I was in a band for a short time in south Florida that was put together by this guy Anthony who was an accountant originally from St Louis ...He always insisted on us playing Sugar Magnolia. He sang like Stephen Hawkins , the guy in a wheel chair that was supposed to be continuing the works of Albert Einstien and speaks with a digital talking machine ...The rest of the band always wanted to do my original songs and keep the Dead covers to a minimum, so Anthony threw me out of the band ... , it was his band .. I'm in and out today cutting up some downed oaks and splitting rounds for my winter heat supply...It's kind of late in the year for this but I lost my tolerance to hot weather ..It's finally not as hot out and I'm getting some outdoor work done ..It's gonna snow deep this year and I'm preparing for it .. Now if I could only find a farm that grows hay . I'd be set for the worst. If not I might have to drive my goats down to Florida this winter to graze off the sides of interstate 75.

-- Steve (Unreal@home.com), September 03, 2002.

I still can't figure out how to make neatly arranged paragraphs on this froum...I got my first posting on this thread right , but I copied and pasted it .

-- Steve (Unreal@home.com), September 03, 2002.

hmmmm, sychroniiiiiisity? haha!(wingles fingers in front of Steves face and whispers.."It's all an illuuuuusion....") I'm just foolin' with ya! :-D!!! I'm bad, I know. Pay no mind.

Happens all the time, really. Matter of fact, I was chatting with an artist friend, just the other day about moziacs, and how I had picked up a really neat book. She said she had seen an incredible project that she really liked, a swan by so and so...I looked down at the book in my lap, and it was turned to that exact page. Now, I hadn't told her what book, certainly not the artist, just that I was delighted. So what ARE the chances? How many books.....how many artists....how many pieces? :-)

Nothing like that here, though.

Oh, and try double spacing....?

I thought you had your sights set on being a rock star? What happened with that?

And now, in keeping with the "theme....umm, lets see..... In tribute of a childhood memory....

Morning has broken, like the first morning Blackbird has spoken, like the first bird Praise for the singing, praise for the morning Praise for the springing fresh from the world

Sweet the rain's new fall, sunlit from heaven Like the first dewfall, on the first grass Praise for the sweetness of the wet garden Sprung in completeness where his feet pass

Mine is the sunlight, mine is the morning Born of the one light, eden saw play Praise with elation, praise every morning God's recreation of the new day

-- Patty (SycamoreHollow@aol.com), September 03, 2002.

you wrote: "I thought you had your sights set on being a rock star? What happened with that? " I actually don't know what you mean by the questain ??? I'm slow sometimes. Actually I've tried to avoid music as a means of income for about 15 years.And did it for self entertainment .Kind of like eating home grown peas instead of eating ones from a can .And I've joke about the rock star thing.And actually feel discomfort being displayed in front of a bunch of people staring straight at me.But when one needs money and doesn't like the way people treat each other in the convetional common work place.One must depend on resources of self creativity to sustain some freedoms from being treated like a diposable and replaceable nature resource.Music worked for me.To my amazement I can trade a couple of hours of music for a weeks worth of groceries,animal feeds and gasoline.

-- Steve (Unreal@home.com), September 04, 2002.

Here's an original musical poem. I went down to the creek . Put my hands in took a drink. I wiped my mouth. The clouds they danced about. I wet my head and headed on. I was just passing through. It's funny meeting you . I was just passing through. I'm passing through this life. I was born not rich nor poor. I enter life through that little door. I'll live without. Never fuss about. How much I can own before I'm gone. I was just passing through. It's funny meeting you . I was just passing through. I'm passing through this life. I won't grab everthing I see. I belive there's enough for you and me. I'm not a hog. My eyes not blind by fog. Are these the ways we treat our friends . I was just passing through. It's funny meeting you . I was just passing through. I'm passing through this life. Richness beyond our dreams. Jewels of loyalty love and kindness. They go untouched while people scheme. Greed envy and gold to fill their pockets. But I was just passing through. It's funny meeting you . I was just passing through. I'm passing through this life.

-- Steve (Unreal@home.com), September 04, 2002.

The double spacing didn't work. It's still all stuck together.Bummer!!

-- Steve (Unreal@home.com), September 04, 2002.

"Wish I didn't know now, what I didn't know then". Bob Seger

"God gives every bird his food, but He does not throw it into the nest".

"The ignorant man marvels at the exceptional; the wise man marvels at the common".

"Have courage for the great sorrow of life and patience for the small one; and when you have laboriously accomplished your daily task, go to sleep in peace. God is awake". Victor Hugo

"I think I'll just let the Mystery be". Iris DeMent

-- Annie (mistletoe6@earthlink.net), September 04, 2002.

Oh, Steve, I just meant that I thought you said you were moving before winter?

Hi Annie! :-)

-----------------------

I'm wild again, Beguiled again, A simpering, whimpering child again - Bewitched, bothered and bewildered am I. - - -Lorenz Hart, "Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered"

I've looked at life from both sides now From up and down, and still somehow It's life's illusions I recall I really don't know life at all. - - - Joni Mitchell "Both Sides Now"

-- Patty (SycamoreHollow@aol.com), September 04, 2002.

Hi Patty :)

-- Annie (mistletoe6@earthlink.net), September 04, 2002.

The ones who decide when I move will be the ones who buy my land. It's up to them $$.As for when I'm moving. The answer my friend is blowing in the wind,the answer is blowing in the wind.

-- Steve (Unreal@home.com), September 04, 2002.

Slanting shafts of dawns twilight,

feather my consciousness in silent seduction.

It's an unescapable attraction, just as the red moon draws the tide.

Eyelashes and loosely canopied silk, flutter innocently, unseen.

Liquid symphonies of softly faceted color, bloom in the darkness.

Shadows dance in minds chaos, amidst swirled dreams, fading.

Eternal sideslipping through time. Momentary, then poised.

Dew laden whisperings caress, plead for wakefulness.

Gossamer decadent unreality, sands away.

Perpetually lost, ever sacrificed,

to the betrayal of a new day.

-- Patty (SycamoreHollow@aol.com), September 05, 2002.

The awakening of the sun as it rises from it's sleepy eyed slumber. . Grey silhuoettes of mountains , haloes in orange and pink. . ...Breathless winds waiting patiently in silence............................. . For the next stoke of the brush , of the creators cosmic ink. . . Song bird choirs sing in praising , before their eary morning flight. . Crows chant in celebration ,as the dawn turns slowly into light........ . . Hillsides quickly , take to warming , by goldern rays hot and strong. . . Cicadas who are late to rising ,soon join in the Earthly song. . . Oaks start dancing with the wind , in joy and oneness , of life threads connected . . To a timeless song written long ago. . A new days begun , giving birth to the unexpected.

-- Stephen A.H. (unreal@home.com), September 09, 2002.

"The ultimate weakness of violence is that it is a descending spiral, begetting the very thing it seeks to destroy. Instead of diminishing evil, it muliplies it. Through violence you may murder the liar, but you cannot murder the lie, nor establish the truth. Through violence you may murder the hater, but you do not murder hate. In fact, violence merely increases hate. So it goes....

Returning violence for violence multiplies violence, adding deeper darkness to a night devoid of stars. Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that."

Dr Martin Luther King, Jr.

-- Earthmama (earthmama48@yahoo.com), September 09, 2002.

I don't believe I've heard that King quote. Thankyou.

-- Patty (SycamoreHollow@aol.com), September 09, 2002.

Saint Stephen with a rose, in and out of the garden he goes, Country garden in the wind and the rain, Wherever he goes the people all complain.

Stephen prospered in his time, well he may and he may decline. Did it matter, does it now? Stephen would answer if he only knew how. Wishing well with a golden bell, bucket hanging clear to hell, Hell halfway twixt now and then, Stephen fill it up and lower down and lower down again.

Lady finger, dipped in moonlight, writing "What for?" across the morning sky. Sunlight splatters, dawn with answer, darkness shrugs and bids the day good-bye.

Speeding arrow, sharp and narrow, What a lot of fleeting matters you have spurned. Several seasons with their treasons, Wrap the babe in scarlet colors, call it your own. Did he doubt or did he try? Answers aplenty in the bye and bye, Talk about your plenty, talk about your ills, One man gathers what another man spills.

Saint Stephen will remain, all he's lost he shall regain, Seashore washed by the suds and foam, Been here so long, he's got to calling it home.

Fortune comes a crawlin', calliope woman, spinnin' that curious sense of your own. Can you answer? Yes I can. But what would be the answer to the answer man?

-- (unreal@home.com), September 10, 2002.

You're welcome, Patty. I just wanted to add that the fact some folks have never read this quote from Dr King is not surprising to me. Unless one has done some serious study of his work, the average American knows almost nothing of his prolific writings. He was a brilliant and original thinker, one of our country's most articulate, and pretty much all our media ever, ever has delivered to its citizens is the "I Have a Dream" speech, leaving people with the impression that is all he ever said! It's a damn shame, IMO. He has much to teach us all, as much today as when he was with us.

-- Earthmama (earthmama48@yahoo.com), September 10, 2002.

Rainy day people always seem to know when it's time to call Rainy day people don't talk They just listen til they've heard it all Rainy day lovers don't lie when they tell you They been down like you Rainy day people don't mind if you're crying a tear or two If you get lonely, all you really need is that rainy day love Rainy day people all know there's no sorrow they can't rise above Rainy day lovers don't love any others, that would not be kind Rainy day people all know how it hangs on a piece of mind Rainy day lovers don't lie when they tell you, they've been down there too Rainy day people don't mind if you're crying a tear or two Rainy day people always seem to know when you're feeling blue High stepping strutters who land in the gutter sometimes need one too Take it or leave it, or try to believe it, if you've been down too long Rainy day lovers don't hide love inside they just pass it on Rainy day lovers don't hide love inside they just pass it on

-- (Unreal@home.com), September 13, 2002.