Another lesson from Sam.

My eyes; alittle red
My lips alittle cracked
My lungs; alittle dark
And my heads alittle whack

My hearts alittle broke
My knuckels; alittle bruised
My heads alittle high
and my souls alittle used

My words; alittle slurred
My drink; alittle strong
My cup; alittle empty
and now its almost gone

But thats just me
Just plain old me
Same son of a bitch
That i'll always be

Cause my nose; alittle bloody
My cough alittle coarse
My back; alittle stabbed
My problems; alittle worse

But theres nothing too big
And I'll be alive tomorrow
Cause theres no point in dwelling
In good-for-nothing sorrow



?By Sam Bell?

=]

10/9/07


Bravo. What great writing skills.

Someone in my prayers.

*I copies this poem off an old friends Myspace page... I too miss his brother.

Oh Jailbird Oh Jailbird

he sings his sad song

peers up to the moon

pleeding for dawn

his cry is mornful

its long and slow

its fild with tears

and is filled with woe

he calls to the stars

and curses the past

every night seems longer

then the one he sang last

the walls stand to remind

that he built his own cage

the thought holds agony

that turns into rage

only time is your escape

let it drip, drop, drain away

keep singing ow jail bird

you will fly free again some day

-Sam Bell

Dedicated to my brother

My friend and offender

I love you Cory

Give time, time.

I would like to remember today, and everyday, that:
I am not just a brain floating around on earth. I have a body that is a home for my brain. . . Which needs to be cared for, so it lasts many years.


That reminds me of a book I used to read as a child:

A husk is a house for a corn ear.
A pod is a place for a pea.
A nutshell's a hut for a hickory nut.
But what is a shelter for me?

A glove is a house for a hand,
A stocking is a house for a knee.
A shoe or a boot is a house for a foot.
And a house is a house to me!

A box is a house for a teabag.
A teapot's a house for some tea.
If you pour me a cup and I drink it all up,
Then the teahouse will turn into me!

Cartons are houses for crackers.
Castles are houses for kings.
The more that I think about houses,
The more things are houses for things.

Perhaps I have started farfetching...
Perhaps I am stretching things some...
A mirror's a house for reflections...
A throat is a house for a hum...

But once you start thinking,
You think and you think and you think,
How pockets are houses for pennies;
And pens can be houses for ink!

How peaches are houses for peachpits,
And sometimes are houses for worms.
How trashcans are houses for garbage,
And garbage makes a house for germs!

And envelopes, earmuffs and eggshells.
And bathrobes and baskets and bins.
And ragbags and rubbers and roasters.
And tablecloths, toasters and tins...

And once you get started in thinking this way,
It seems that whatever you see.
Is either a house or it lives in a house.
And a house is a house for me!

A book is a house for a story.
A rose is a house for a smell.
My head is a house for a secret,
A secret I never will tell!

A flower's at home in a garden.
A donkey's at home in a stall.
Each creature that's known has a house of its own,
And the earth is a house for us all.

The Beginning:

"Prevent trouble before it arises.

Put things in order before they exist.

The giant pine tree

grows from a tiny sprout.

The journey of a thousand miles

starts from beneath your feet.

Rushing into action, you fail. 

Trying to grasp things, you lose them.

Forcing a project to completion,

you ruin what was almost ripe.

Therefore the Master takes action

by letting things take their course.

He remains as calm 

at the end as at the beginning.

He has nothing,

thus nothing to lose.

What he desires is non-desire;

what he learns is to unlearn.

He simply reminds people

of who they have always been.

He cares about nothing but the Tao.

Thus he can care for all things."