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The early firings contained many stones.

quote by Andy Goldsworthy
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cobblestones

The coffin, set up as coffins always are, near the grave, contained the father. The sentence, set up as sentences always are, on the page, contained the words. The meat package, set up as meat packages always are, with cellophane covering, contained the chops. The synagogue, set up as synagogues always are, for people, contained the rabbi. The classroom, set up as classrooms always are, for chairs, contained the professor. The coffin, set up as coffins always are, beside the grave, contained the mother. The word, set up as words always are, beyond hearing, contained the syllables. The prose, set up as prose always is, in census-rectangles, contained the phenomena. The nation, set up as nations always are, in questionnaire rooms, contained the sworn. The can, set up as cans always are, with ornate paper covers, contained the chicken o’noodle soup, with the circular noodles. Abacus, guitar, and quipu, set up as abacus, guitar and quipu always are, hieratically on notional strings, contained tobacco’s troubadours. The coffin, set up as coffins always are, next to the grave, contained the sister. The elegy, set up as elegies always are, dishonestly, contained the family. The steak, set up as steaks always are, artificially reddened, contained the fat. The rectangular venetian blinds, set up as rectangular venetian blinds always are, in the windowframe, contained the slats. The DNA, set up as DNA always is, in double helixes, contained the and. The word people, set up as the word people always is, in writing, contained the o.

poem by Aaron Fogel
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Since You Are Gone

Since you are gone the stones lie differently along the ground
and words that are the same now have a different sound
-and-
sharp and clear in early dawn there is a road I cannot travel on

Since you are gone- since you are gone

Since you are gone the path seems steeper still
there seems to be more brambles on our hill
More birds that do not sing
more incests that do sting

Since you are gone- since you are gone

Since you are gone the stones lie differently along the ground
-and-
Words that are the same

Now have a different sound
-and-
Sharp and clear in early dawn

There is a road I cannot travel on

Since you are gone- since you are gone

Palling winds, blow softly now, I dread
foreboding echos lament beside my bed
How soon the embers glow is lost-
how soon the darkness comes and frost

And sharp and clear in early dawn there is a road I cannot travel on

Since you are gone-
Since you are gone

There is a road I cannot travel on

poem by Isabelle Cooper
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Early In The Morning

Early in the morning and I cant get right
Had a little date with my baby last night
Now its early in the morning (early in the morning)
Well its early in the morning (early in the morning)
Now its early in the morning
And I aint got nothing but the blues
Went to all the places where we used to go
Went to your house but you dont live there no more
Now its early in the morning (early in the morning)
Well its early in the morning (early in the morning)
Early in the morning
And I aint got nothing but the blues
Went to your friends house but she was out
Knock on your fathers door and he began to shout get out there boy
Early in the morning (early in the morning)
Early in the morning (early in the morning)
Early in the morning
And I aint got nothing but the blues
Went to doogie chain to get something to eat
Waiter looked at me and said you sure look beat
Now its early in the morning (early in the morning)
Early in the morning (early in the morning)
Well its early in the morning
And I aint got nothing but the blues
Well its early in the morning
And I aint got nothing but the blues
Well its early in the morning
And I aint got nothing but the blues

song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Air is a Root

The air is a root.
The stones are filled with tenderness. bravo.
bravo. the stones are filled with air.
the stones are watery branches.
on the stones replacing the mouth
grows the skeleton of a leaf. bravo.
A stone voice face to face and foot to foot
with a stone glance.
the stones are tormented like flesh
the stones are clouds for their second
nature dances to them on their third nose.
bravo. bravo.
when the stones scratch themselves, nails grow
on the roots. bravo. bravo.
the stones woke to eat the exact
hour

poem by Jean Arp
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Stones

Stones
Stones would play inside her head
And where she slept,
They made her bed
And she would ache
For love and get but stones
La la la la la la la la la
Lordy, child
A good days comin
And Ill be there to let the sun in
And bein lost
Is worth the comin home
La la la la la la la la la on stones
You and me, a time for planting
You and me, a harvest granting
The every prayer ever prayed
For just two wild flowers that grow
La la la la la la la la la on stones
Mmmmmmmm.....

song performed by by Neil Diamond
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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'Early stages' is when the cancer is completely contained within the prostate. If it is detected when the cancer is entirely in the gland, the chance for full recovery is at its highest.

quote by Len Dawson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Also I played on a lot of demos in the early days of the Stones.

quote by Jim Sullivan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Inner Angel

If I look at the mind of God I can see
A vast pure energy ball grow up a tree
He is the pure inner self of us all
Connected within us contained in the ball

The white is the inner the outer is red
Energy from the outside created the dead
Like he grew up the tree he can also grow you
With red interference it’s the best he can do

Past present and future contained in the ball
It was the white energy zone which started it all
Right at the centre of life itself
He grew out the past and future himself

Attached to his mind was the vast Mister Red
Who forced exactly wrong onto his poor head
His mind had to grow whatever he could
And that was to grow everything up to be good

The red weighs deep in parts of his mind
You can see it clearly as you look through time
World War One and World War Two
He was weighted down heavily as the energy grew

Did the red grow his dolphin into a shark
Did it grow through a black Labrador to create a rottweiler bark
Did the uncontrollable red energy ball
Grow a dinosaur up ever so tall

We have the bones to prove the dinosaur
And old people to prove there was a war
Did he shoot the red energy backwards to create the bones
To question our existence in the age of the Stones

Did Jesus grow from the future into the past
To block the red energy which was growing so fast
An intelligent white ball to shoot through time
To be placed into a virgin mother of thine

The Son of God he stood out to be
Past present and future he’s contained in all three
He wanted to help dominant in all
To destroy the red contained in the ball

As the future looms I pray for the white
To force through the red ready to fight
To grow us higher to destroy the sinner
Whether dead or alive we remain inner

poem by Donna Caldwell
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The Waking (1948)

I strolled across
An open field;
The sun was out;
Heat was happy.

This way!This way!
The wren's throat shimmered,
Either to other,
The blossoms sang.

The stones sang,
The little ones did,
And flowers jumped
Like small goats.

A ragged fringe
Of daisies waved;
I wasn't alone
In a grove of apples.

Far in the wood
A nestling sighed;
The dew loosened
Its morning smells.

I came where the river
Ran over stones:
My ears knew
An early joy.

And all the waters
Of all the streams
Sang in my veins
That summer day.

poem by Theodore Roethke
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Blame It On The Stones

Mister marvin middle class is really in a stew
Wondrin what the younger generations coming to
And the taste of his martini doesnt please his bitter tongue
Blame it on the rolling stones.
Blame it on the stones; blame it on the stones
Youll feel so much better, knowing you dont stand alone
Join the accusation; save the bleeding nation
Get it off your shoulders; blame it on the stones
Mother tells the ladies at the bridge club every day
Of the rising price of tranquilizers she must pay
And she wonders why the children never seem to stay at home
Blame it on the rolling stones.
Blame it on the stones; blame it on the stones
Youll feel so much better, knowing you dont stand alone
Join the accusation; save the bleeding nation
Get it off your shoulders; blame it on the stones
Fathers at the office, nightly working all the time
Trying to make the secretary change her little mind
And it bothers him to read about so many broken homes
Blame it on those rolling stones.
Blame it on the stones; blame it on the stones
Youll feel so much better knowing you dont stand alone
Join the accusation; same the bleeding nation
Get it off your shoulders; blame it on the stones
Blame it on the stones, blame it on the stones.

song performed by by Kris Kristofferson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A beautiful scenery of relation

The car is mine; I drive it; It runs; Am I not related with the car speed sitting inside when it runs? yes, the velocity of the car has enveloped me; The body of the car is my body; I must take care of me-car body so that it would not collide with other things on the road.
The speed is me-contained
The speed is car-contained

The car is powerless! It has no choice by itself; Just runs as I drive it; And it is me who stimulates the car but when it runs, it runs together with me; At that time the speed of the car and the speed of mine is one dynamism.

My car is running on the road of the Earth;
The Earth has a velocity; It is running with all phenomenon it has
The speed of the Earth is me-contained, and car-contained too.

What a nice scenery! I am strung with all phenomenon here on the Earth! I am separated but joined, I am enclosed with nature but freed; I am related with all dynamism!

poem by Sarwar Chowdhury
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Terms of Childhood

She rose, interrupting her 3am sleep,
To place a rough stone on the pavement
In the long queue of stones, marking her mother’s place
In the morning line for government bread

She stands in pink at the school-bus stop
Faded satchel on her back, her eyes contained
By some slight terror of the daily world
Of the diesel clouds and traffic waves

Tending the family stall, she chases the flies
From small triangles of garlic flowers
On the metal-lined shelves of the mercado
As soldiers and inspectors deal their gains

On the evening southern Kalahari plain
Her brother said, “there are 17 white stones”.
He was jumping from one smooth top to another –
The stones that ford the stream at Kanye

I met him playing on the day
When 42 young and grown children were slain
By a death lottery apartheid raid, an act
That histories would rapidly disdain.

The soiled dictator rules out his contenders
On general terms of fear and pain.
Would there be a lifetime
By which this deal was altered -
And something close to childhood came?

poem by Frank Bana
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Autobiography

My father made the walls resound,
He wore his collar the wrong way round.

When I was five the black dreamscame;
Nothing after was quite the same.

When I woke they did not care;
Nobody, nobody was there.

In my childhood trees were green
And there was plenty to be seen.

When my silent terror cried,
Nobody, nobody replied.

I got up; the chilly sun
Saw me walk away alone.

My mother wore a yellow dress;
Gentle, gently, gentleness.

The dark was talking to the dead;
The lamp was dark beside my bed.

Come back early or never come.
Come back early or never come.
Come back early or never come.
Come back early or never come.
Come back early or never come.
Come back early or never come.
Come back early or never come.
Come back early or never come.

poem by Louis Macneice
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Fantastic Stones

Fantastic stones so outlandish,
Them fallacies of the brave,
A pixie will attack a leprechaun,
When the fairy will falter.
This is no misconception.
Stones are burning bright with power
For the cowards who have swine and elves.
Fantastic tremendous stones.

poem by Naveed Akram
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Transposition

on the dry pavement
summer stones
and pebbles
and grass with dews

early morning light
pearls and diamonds and
yellow mantle crawling
spreading

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Church Not Made With Hands

Bye-bye shadowlands
The term is over
And all the holidays have begun
Now she walks in fresh fields
Her tracks are on the land
She is everywhere and no place
When its dark and evening falls
She moves among men
They would seek to have her as a prize
But she is in the shadows
The ocean and the sand
She is everywhere and no place
Her church not made with hands
Not contained by man
She is dancing high as clouds
Faster than the arrow
As straight as any crows that flies
Accross great seas she travels
Up through rising lands
She is everywhere and no place
Her church not made with hands
Not contained by man
Isnt that a pretty sun
Setting in a pretty sky?
Will we stay and watch it darken?
Will we stay and watch it darken?
The church not made by hands
Not contained by man
That precious place
Unmade by man

song performed by by Waterboys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Rucksack Full Of Stones

A Babe…
Born perfect, innocent, ready
Cast into a corrupt world

Parents eagerly present
A family heirloom
A patchwork rucksack
Part-filled with stones
To a wide-eyed child

Begins the journey…

Child given stones of many shapes, sizes
Stones of pity, sorrow, fear, trauma
Stones filled with words like “No”
Stones filled with ugly phrases
Stones filled with abuse, punishment, pain

Rucksack seams burgeon

A growing Soul shouts

“Enough”

Emptying begins…

Through lessons, experiences, prayer
One by one
Removed the stones
Rucksack lightens
By the Grace of God,
Finally emptied

Another Babe born
Rucksack beckons

“Not this time”

Rucksack flung
Into Wisdom’s Fire

Consumed

Ends a vicious cycle…

poem by Ray Lucero
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I Am Brave in Heaven

At the beginning my stones reflected
The town in the middle of heaven;
Half an acre was blessed by bravery,
One other half reflected the pillars of duty.
The natural imagination stemmed from countries,
A convulsive heart gained much to reduce.
The grass greenly admired the sky of heaven,
The sea of a world it contained.
The rivers of milk and honey seemed splendid,
As the initial speciality reduced
To form crystals unshakeable,
Towards the horizon so dazzling and boastful.

poem by Naveed Akram
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Fractures Inside

Minute fractures come this way,
The bones of course mattered
But then the elements defeated
And established material was upset.
Many fibres contained in this cloth
Are like the bones inside you,
The shores inside you stir with waves
From the seas of blood
And those seas have contained many seas
And waves.
The bones are broken finally,
Giving a wheel a rolling character.

poem by Naveed Akram
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Early Morning

(pal waaktaar/ mags)
Early morning
Eight oclock precise
I see the lonely august sun arise
Say you know
You will
Move me like you do
Out on the fields...
Im waiting the whole night through
Early morning, early morning, yeah
Ran the whole way
Down to the tracks
Through the doorway, then a last look back
Say you know
You will
Save me like you do
Out on the fields...
Ive waited the whole night through
Early morning, early morning, yeah
I climbed all the stairways
To find the rooftop clear
Got the shotgun lying with me here
Say you know
You will
Move me like you do
Out on the fields...
You know how it feels, yeah
Early morning, early morning, yeah
Early morning
Eight oclock precise

song performed by by A-Ha
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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