T for Tom

Line in the Sky

Posted in Uncategorized by johnsontoms on July 24, 2011

Wheels in the sky rolling almost as fast as the heads on the ground.

By now there’s a wait at the pearly gates,

I’ll then take my time before hopping in line

to determine a fate

By judgement that is not sound.


The people in line must be wondering where it went wrong,

If they quit too soon,

what their lovers will do

and the longer it goes they may never know

if they’ll get a chance to sing eternal songs.


So Dance! And climb the nearest tree!

Don’t ever come down if you can see over the forest and through the leaves

And take your time to die with the secrets you’ll find –

That we’ve all gone mad here on the ground

But nothing is as mad as rushing in line and wasting your time

Waiting for a truth to come around.



Posted in Uncategorized by johnsontoms on July 24, 2011

Survival means different things

when you go from hunting food to hunting Charlie in the woods.


We’re back in Vietnam but this time we’re well fed

Because the taxpayers keep signing off by simply turning their heads.


While the planes fill the sky the human condition goes unchanged.

Cells phones haven’t given us soul mates,

Bombs haven’t given us cause

to stay alive any longer if we’ve solved our hunger

to search for answers to the questions no one even asks

because on the television they said the money would last.

The Living from the Dead

Posted in poem by johnsontoms on July 24, 2011

Where did all the feet go?

Marching down the street so often

with purpose

Trying to change the world.


When did all the soldiers quit?

Marching up the hills so often

holding signs

Standing in picket lines.


The offices have not changed

Taxing us the same so often

dropping bombs

Drafting kids for Vietnam.


Where did all the fight go?

Citizens never try so often

like they would

When they were misunderstood.


Now the soldiers play the game

It’s a paycheck all the same so often

killing time

Without killing on the mind.

Hug the kids

Close the lid

Kiss the wife

Church on time

Cut the grass

Press the slacks

Buy a home

Pay the loan

With the paychecks they’ve been given

holding rifles for a living


Where did all the meaning go?

This is not the freedom that so often

had been said

Would separate the living from the dead.


Posted in poem by johnsontoms on July 4, 2011

The blouse, the jeans, the shoes

It’s a distraction from who she is

but walking down the strip we all want to be somebody else.

I wonder when we stopped just being ourselves.

Surely if everyone stopped faking we’d all start making more love.

Full/Half Full

Posted in poem by johnsontoms on July 4, 2011

The cup:

full, half full, empty.

Like a fuse that runs our whole life through

It’s kind of symbolic.

A light that starts bright and ends without a fire.


We make so much happen when we’re young

But one day we’ll know that it’s all the same

And it never ends in flames.

Her Legs

Posted in Uncategorized by johnsontoms on July 4, 2011

Her legs speak my language

but they ramble

from her head to her tail.

It’s all long sentences that catch me in the middle

where the point gets lost

and instead of making sense I just keep reading until

she’s out of words.

It doesn’t rhyme but I love her verse.

The Night Starts

Posted in poem by johnsontoms on July 4, 2011

The night starts with a hope, a dream, a thought.

It’s every night I go out like this and then not

a thing goes right.

When will come my time?

If I keep being me one day

it will all go right.

Anything Simpler

Posted in poem by johnsontoms on July 4, 2011

If it were anything simpler

than a smile and a move

I hope I’d have the answer

But street engagements are hard to find

and harder to work

When all you’ve got is all you’re worth.


Sometimes I think the clothes I wear and the cigarette on my lip

are enough to drag a stare

but that’s where it ends.

I’m just a bum and I keep moving on

Maybe someone will tag along.

What Happened?

Posted in poem by johnsontoms on July 4, 2011

What happened to the whores and the music and the dancing?

What happened to the beer we’d drink, most of it dropped on the floor because I yanked her wrist and puller her out of the chair for a twist.

What happened to kicking her head back in smiles laughing at some stupid joke I said while drunk? It was the dumbest thing ever but who cared? it was obvious she was coming over.

Sometimes she would call if she didn’t find someone else to fuck that night, but I didn’t mind- it was still her voice on the line. ¬†Walking in acting like it was me all along but all I wanted was her shirt off. What happened to fucking before we got to the room, her moans, our moves, backs arched when we both finish?

What happened to chasing love, feeling good, feeling bad, and doing it all over over over and over?

Where does she go when she’s not by my side as the sun comes up so I can lean over and touch her chest, up down up down up and slightly smiling with eyes closed because oops! I woke her up with my touch but she had to be going soon anyway.

What happens when nothing turns into something turns into nothing? It was so much easier when it was just whores and music and dancing, and smoke filled rooms with low hanging ceilings and endless possibilities and blues guitar and cheap beer and toes tappin’ and chairs lining the wall and pool balls clackin’ and no A/C and shouting to be heard.

There are Words

Posted in poem by johnsontoms on July 4, 2011

There are words that fall into place and others that don’t

mostly about the women I’ve wined,

the women I’ve dined,

and the women I’ve 69ed.

This is one of the damned ones that don’t

But sometimes neither do the women and in a way

It all makes sense.