Everything had to be done in-between Stones time.
quote by Bill Wyman

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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To Everything There is a Season
To everything there is a season
A time for every purpose under Heaven
A time to be born
and a time to die
A time to plant
and a time to pluck what is planted
A time to kill
and a time to heal
A time to break down
and a time to build up
A time to cast away stones
and a time to gather stones
A time to embrace
and a time to refrain from embracing
A time to gain
and a time to lose
A time to keep
and a time to cast away
A time to tear
and a time to sew
A time to keep silence
and a time to speak
A time of love
and a time of hate
A time of war
and a time of peace
Ecclesiastes 3:1-8
To every thing there is a season,
and a time to every purpose under the heaven:
A time to be born, a time to die;
a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted;
A time to kill, and a time to heal;
a time to break down, and a time to build up;
A time to weep, and a time to laugh;
a time to mourn, and a time to dance;
A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together;
a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;
A time to get, and a time to lose;
a time to keep, and a time to cast away;
A time to rend, and a time to sew;
a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
A time to love, and a time to hate;
A time of war, and a time of peace.
To Everything There Is a Season
To everything there is A season,
A time for every purpose under the heaven:
A time to be bourn, and a time to die;
A time to plant, and a time to reap;
A time to kill, and a time to heal;
A time to break down, and a time to build up;
A time to weep, and a time to laugh;
A time to mourn, and a time to dance;
A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together;
Atime to embrace, and atime to refrain from embracing;
Atime to gain, and a time to lose;
A time to keep, and a time to cast away;
A time to rend, and a time to sew;
A time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
A time to love, and a time to hate;
A time for war, and a time for peace.
poem by Arnold Simon

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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
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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Turn! Turn! Turn!
Pete seeger
To everything, turn, turn, turn
There is a season, turn, turn, turn
And a time for every purpose under heaven
A time to be born, a time to die
A time to plant, a time to reap
A time to kill, a time to heal
A time to laugh, a time to weep
A time to build up, a time to break down
A time to dance, a time to mourn
A time to cast away stones
A time to gather stones together
A time of love, a time of hate
A time of war, a time of peace
A time you may embrace
A time to refrain from embracing
A time to gain, a time to lose
A time to rend, a time to sew
A time of love, a time of hate
A time of peace, I swear its not too late
Original source
To every thing there is a season, and a time
To every purpose under the heaven:
A time to be born, and a time to die; a time
To plant, and a time to pluck up that which is
Planted;
A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to
Break down, and a time to build up;
A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time
To mourn, and a time to dance;
A time to cast away stones, and a time to
Gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a
Time to refrain from embracing;
A time to get, and a time to lose; a time to
Keep, and a time to cast away;
A time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to
Keep silence, and a time to speak;
A time to love, and a time to hate; a time of
War, and a time of peace.
song performed by by Nina Simone

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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Turn Turn Turn
To everything
Turn, turn, turn
There is a season
Turn, turn, turn
And a time to every purpose under heaven
A time to be born, a time to die
A time to plant, a time to reap
A time to kill, a time to heal
A time to laugh, a time to weep
To everything
Turn, turn, turn
There is a season
Turn, turn, turn
And a time to every purpose under heaven
A time to build up, a time to break down
A time to dance, a time to mourn
A time to cast away stones
A time to gather stones together
To everything
Turn, turn, turn
There is a season
Turn, turn, turn
And a time to every purpose under heaven
A time of love, a time of hate
A time of war, a time of peace
A time you may embrace
A time to refrain from embracings
A time to gain, a time to lose
A time to rend, a time to sew
A time to love, a time to hate
A time of peace, i swear it's not too late
song performed by by Dolly Parton

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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We, Here,
we, here,
we are like stones
there are no hands
that clap
no mouths that make
the praise
we are like the stones
of the shores of the sea
about to be annihilated
by the convolutions of time and thoughts.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa

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Migration
Migration
In this rich flat landscape there are no stones they had to
travel to the far mountain and with mule and cart it was
a long arduous journey. Stones were only used as base for
houses and as grave stones, but since these were stolen
so this practice ended, the dead had to do with wooden
crosses which tend to rot when it rains. Farmers buried
their stones under a mass of soil, for safety mounds of
them dotted the flat landscape and made it less monotone.
Modern time, a railway line stretches across the land and
ends in a haze were the mountain begins, stones are now
a common thing, way, all and sundry has one, the poorest
even have gravelled strewn back yards. A clever man decided
to open a rise and sell stones a souvenir as a memory of
the past, when life was idyllic, but he found a mass grave,
not only human skeletons but also household goods, toys
and musical instruments.
poem by Oskar Hansen

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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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Why We Fight pt 1 (Lock and Load)
You’ve walked out the garden and watched your hands go
From picking up berries to picking up ammo
The same sticks and twigs that build up your village
Fight off the conquers and plunders and pillage//
-Stones and sticks and sticks and stones
Gather them up to protect your home
And when needed use them on some bones
Lay them all down to outline your zone
Raise them and burn them on your throne
Monsters can’t outrun the sticks and stones-
Sharpen your spears to take down your dinner
You and the beast can’t both be the winner
It’s about time you got out of this slump
Load up your brains to outsmart the hunt
poem by P.R. Prosper

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We stayed jaded
Like perfect marble green stones of the mind
And perfect stones never cut their ribs
Life it is life it is you said
Like you said it was
And it would be
Lived and shared through the splinters of time
We stayed shaded
Time jewels focused within a moment
Like a definition proof painting
Colour resistant freedom
And perfect shades never seek the form
Except an oblique smile
Gliding down the final shift
poem by Miroslava Odalovic

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About Us......
our sensitivities
grow in a glass house
hardened
by incoming stones
who is afraid of the pieces
of broken glasses?
our wrists are experienced
sufferers
they heal themselves in
due time
we know what the word
endure means
by heart
we are devoured somehow
but still whole
in those vomits
do they find us bitter pills?
don't they know that we are the cure
of those unreasonable fears?
those stones turn out
to be marshmallows getting more
delicious looking
at the flames
on those cold evenings
beneath the
darkness in the forest
we eats stones
no longer afraid of indigestion
our guts
have kept the morning glories
glorious gods
with hardened walls
poem by Ric S. Bastasa

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Sack Full Of Stones
(Travis Tritt/Marty Stuart)
I used to be the kind of guy
I could laugh as well as cry
With a heart feather-soft and summer-warm
Since you've left me I've been faced
With emptiness that's been replaced
With a heart that's hard and heavy as a sack full of stones
I never thought I'd ever see
The man my mirror is showing me
Lord I must have aged ten years
Since you've been gone
The longest mile you'll ever crawl
Is the one after you fall
Draggin' around a heart that's heavy as a sack full of stones
With the world upon my shoulders
And my feelings on my sleeve
Every time I close my eyes at night
All I do is watch you leave
But by far the biggest curse of being left alone
Is draggin' around a heart that's heavy as a sack full of stones
Well I tried turning to a bottle
But the bottle turned on me
I've tried everything
But nothing sets your memory free
I'm serving life here in a prison
That we once called a home
With a heart that's cold and heavy as a sack full of stones
With the world upon my shoulders
And my feelings on my sleeve
Every time I close my eyes at night
All I do is watch you leave
But by far the biggest curse of being left alone
Is draggin' around a heart that's heavy as a sack full of stones
Yes by far the biggest curse of being left alone
Is draggin' around a heart that's heavy as a sack full of stones
song performed by by Travis Tritt

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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History Stones People.
History stones people.
They stoned Moses, David and Linclon,
history did that for all to see
Marbel and cement,
that's all it leaves behind
of a long changing life.
Great heroes of time,
fall under the mercy
of the sculptor's knife.
History stones faces,
in a way that would make
ecclestias cringe.
History stones feet,
in a way that would make
piligrims cry.
History stones life
to always stay fresh,
yet, what is life without
the sins of the flesh.
All the radical kids
get stoned
and never change
or even move a muscle.
All the sword raising warriors
history stoned
without blood in their veins.
You can see all the victims
that history stoned
when you walk in the park,
they got kings
and queens
hell, they even got Gods.
They are there captive
in history's stones,
never to be again what they were;
wilting flesh and
breakable bones.
People look up at them
they are victims too.
History's stones fall far,
even on to you.
Those stoned to live
are like the ones stoned to die.
enslaved to the search
of the frozen smile.
Life is a burning bush
that doesn't get consumed.
not a dead rock
or a statue of history.
It's a fusing wind
of happinnes and misery.
An exploding volcano
of courage and fear.
It is the stem of the flower
struggling through the seasons
to stand and bloom
above the drying soil.
Life is the fighting wave
you see at sea
forgotten and denied
by the stones of history.
poem by Samuel Katz

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Great Expectations
Hey baby! Don’t be mad!
Down! Sad! It’s not that bad!
Know I’m not much. Not born
incarnate. A great successful man.
But so what! But I’m the only one
you’ve got. And I’m about done!
So what! What about! What about!
We stop throwing insulting stones?
It’s definitely definitely time to atone!
It’s done it’s gone! So let it! Let it alone!
Why don’t you stop throwing these stones?
Why can’t you ever let it alone! Let it alone?
Let’s get on. Let’s get on. Get on. In style!
With something! Something new! Worthwhile!
Something we share! Something we both share!
Our own! Not Mr and Mrs Jones again to compare!
poem by Terence George Craddock

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Stones of Death
I gather the stones of death,
My options are few and a breath;
This I design with my hands
And the feet may be from badlands.
The stones I picked deceived me,
Their large amount was ivory;
I wanted a little pebble or parable
To consist of the wisdom not horrible.
The horror I concerned myself with
Was loved by demons and the gunsmith;
Shooting carried disorder like stones,
Pebbles called bullets fired at bones.
poem by Naveed Akram

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Life Is ~ The Stones Under My Feet
Life is the stones under my feet
All the places I've walked
All the places I haven't
They say something about who I am
The pebbles that I pick up to toss in the ocean
The boulders I've sat on
The skipping stones I throw across the lake
Gravel and sand
And cobblestone streets
Places with history
Places where history is about to be written
And what it has to say for my history
All those stones that I've crunched
Under my boots
Or sandals
Or sneakers
Or just my bare feet
Walking carefully
And there occasionally is a piece of glass
When I cut myself I bleed
But I heal in the end
Then I get up to walk on more stones
Because life is where you choose to walk
And where you don't
poem by Indigo Rosedragon

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