T for Tom

There It Is

Posted in Europe, poem by johnsontoms on May 30, 2013

There it is

There

It

Is

Crashing with the sound of thunderclaps to say

Here I am

Here

I

Am

Some small, some large

But all grand.

The waves topped with white on the brown, sanded cliffs

Worn down from years of clapping

It’s like shaking hands to announce to each other they’ve arrived.

The cliffs to be introduced

To the water not new

To the world

That should consider itself lucky.

Here we are, here we are.

Winding stairs for the man who sees

Not what goes on below

But what goes on in front when so much is

Underneath.

There it goes, there it goes

Back into the sea, back into the blue tides

The rising highs of water miles that keep us

Like a divider apart from our Mother Earth.

We should see her.

There she is, there she is.

She speaks most when no one is listening.

There I was.

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Go Down To The River and Pray

Posted in Prose by johnsontoms on May 5, 2013

It is so hard to live with one’s self in this world in these days in these places and in these rages from the fits and tantrums from the cages and ways they tell us it isn’t good to be real. To feel something to do something to be something exciting and fundamental even or even just shoot out bright like a light on high in the night sky above where the dreams never reach anymore because everything is so deadly dead on the ground where the boys and girls make their beds these days, I can’t see why I should join the procession of the unlucky fathoms of the deep deep deep down where the bones crawl and souls cry it’s a crying shame that nothing ever has a point anymore and yet here we are feeling one thing and saying another and it’s never enough to break the patterns or break our skulls at 90 miles an hour on the wall that we’re heading into or did we already pass it? and now we’re the walking undead or something that would fit into today’s trivial notion of entertainment and stories and literature and literature and literature is it really literature if it teaches us to be drugged faces stuck to the television?

The words have no meaning here and no one knows really what it says except I and I and I alone are the one seeing or so I think and I wish I weren’t alone.  I wish I could bring with me all those daring all those fighting all those single spirits and ghosts and specters and even though haunting noises can’t be touched and just float and never sleep and scream at night and have no end they are passioned so passionate so clear and have gotten away from a world that says “no no no don’t do it don’t don’t don’t this isn’t right what feels so good” and we must forget that we have forgotten who the first one was to tell us that the things we want or the things we can’t have and the things we do are the things that will damn us eternally in the sea of fire oh fire from the heavens oh fire from hell it would be so well it would be so.

So what is it? it’s a trifle it’s a duplicitous catacomb of wheeling drones dealing prone ideas that have no… future? heart? purpose? Do we have? Do we? What do we do when there’s this over here that calls to our animal being true being you and I and let’s go down to the river and pray.

And let’s go down to the river and pray.  Down to the river where I laid my body and saved my soul at the hands of the lord of the gods of the wind and the prairie and the sea and the water rising so high it seems like the great great great flood of bloody past that we say came one day to wash away the sinners from the saints and one day it will be so again but fire from the clouds from the dark dark storm that I hope is true because it would be so much better than watching us wither away like the leaves in the fall but they’re so pretty the way they sprout, grow, green, give back and give back in the form of shade in the form of air in the form of one day another tree that grows up that grows up like we haven’t imagined that it could be so wonderful that it just grows up on its own yes it does it grows so well with just a little bit of water just a little bit of chance and just a little bit of starry nights the stars there the the worlds and heavens spinning no not those heavens the heavens you can see they are real yes they are no not just one but many they are there you can see them just look just look just look just look please look up up up please look up the meaning of believing it ain’t seeing and it damn sure it ain’t faith but that too you got to have if you put in the right places and remember to pick it up on your way out the door.

With the keys and the wallet and in the mirror I check my tie to fit it right the Italian silk hand stitched black tie that though is different is not so different millions of years of history and humans and still we look the same and it’s so hard to live with myself when all I want is a little peace of mind in a world at war.

War… wore… war.  Like whores? maybe.  Like… soldiers? no not at all we aren’t fighting anything more than wages we aren’t fighting anything more than pages from the book that Bertrand Russell said “most humans are content accepting the series of circumstances around them as truth” and what a shame WHAT A GODDAMN SHAME because there is so much truth to be found we’ve barely scratched the surface and for the unlucky few the poor bastards who stumble upon just the tip of the top of the useless rot of truth it hurts much more to then be to then just be and to then be still in this world and still yet in another in another place that place where the souls want to go but get tugged back and forth back forth goes the tides go the waves surfing which we do more of on the web than in the water that covers the earth the beautiful salt that sticks your tongue and burns your eyes it would be so good to feel just a bit of it wouldn’t it wouldn’t it be nice to burn a little bit than to?

Go down to the river and pray.