written with clarity but not malice...sung as a riddle it seems not as callous


too many one-eyed Jacks, said the Man with the Ax

She played  Hearts, while they all played poke her.

she had discarded her King, and with that meaningless fling

had traded her hopes of a Diamond for the Joker.

this was inspired by (not plageurized) a poem "The True Gentleman" learned in a  fraternity (SAE) ritual during college. that INCREDIBLE poem has been inspirational to me since then, and here is my own twist on what being a REAL MAN is all about.


THE REAL MAN...

the real man has his own agenda, which compliments the universe and its truths and attempts not to obstruct or hinder it. he understands and respects how each other man's agenda may or may not compliment his own and honors their differences with fair competition and with forthright honesty. the real man lives to further his own goals without using anger, hatred, or abuse to compete with any other person or thing.

the real man is fair, not better or worse than anyone, but sees his travels through life as being on a level playing field, where balance rules a life of give and take. a real man believes that everything stems from and leads to equality, that his own perspective is but one of an infinite number, yet his is as valid and important as the rest.

the real man gains wisdom from others but knowledge from within, who does not expect anything from anyone except the same respect that he freely gives them. a man who is solely responsible for his own life and predicament and who understands the fickle nature of luck, timing, and proactive behavior that can lead him to success or failure. a real man is one who doesn't use material trophys as his barometer for success and happiness, he rather sees them as fleeting affirmations, but unreliable measures that have gained favor in a self-indulgent world. yet ithat too must be paid attention to and treated as a part of a  larger reality.

a real man is more giver than taker but sees that equality is best served through a nearly equal exchange without using a scorecard. he does not feel indebted or indentured but is thought to be owed by many. he stands up in plain view to be counted when his position on a subject is polled. the real man does not shy from  adversarial situations or people, nor does he seek them out.

the real man is passionate about and appreciates many things, especially as they relate to the the beauty imbued in all things.

the real man does not question his own motives and rarely feels guilt as he understands that everything he does must ultimately spring from his natural sense of fairness and goodness in all. the real man attempts to develop his whole being with self-examination and an acute awareness of his place in the conitinuum.

a real man does not deny the existence of god, nor does he accpt it as fact, knowing that semantically speaking god can be many things to many people. he values education and strives become learned, but he knows that knowledge is a limited and dynamic idea that serves only to provide a framework of existence without arrogance or shame concerning the nature of god.

a real man can appreciate the immensity of time and space, realizing his own physical existence is barely a speck in the patchwork of infinitity. he is a humble and thankful recipient of reality, but a brave individual piece of the whole as he strives to realize his unique purpose for being.

the real man has a deep sense of propriety and a strong sense of LOVE for all things. above all, a real man is REAL.

-30-

sitting here at kimberly's grave
thoughts of you and tony
life too short for both of them
our grief... the testimony.

who lives or not whose choice it be
or just the dice who say
does god play poker; is he the joker
is it black and white or gray?

and who am i that thinks of you
does the mirror tell the truth
it says i'm living; but i'm dying
while old age succumbs to youth.

are kim and tony just in new phases
as we trudge each day a new
aren't we gaining; though we're losing
isn't uphill downhill too?

does anyone who lives not die
as opposites are destined to fued
through thick and thin we love and hate each other
but in the end; we're all just food.

the first poem i ever wrote, in 2005 at the age of fifty:


EVERYthing


...flows out from and into the light

of ...
thats all there is
thats all there was
thats all there ever will be

until...

...everything flows out from and into the light

of ...

...LOVE

thats all there is
thats all there was
thats all there ever will be

until...

EVERYthing...

the brain trust at my house sat on the outside porch all last night and rehashed the entire closet of skeletons. we added body language, analyzed metadata, multiplied metatarsal fragments, DNA, hairs and bodily fluids found at the uh, under the couch...

just figured it all out.

though i'm no math whiz, i know when it all doesn't add up. it's truly amazing how much we let go by us when inside we really want the math to work out. but inventory day, counting the left withs and subtracting the outgoingz to match with the incoming... is a day of...well, reckoning.

it's all right there in the data.

in the end, the good chairman (senator evaroosky, CT-missouri) acknowledged the glaring logics shortfall, right after excuse number (catch this) 23, shook his head solemnly and said, "you're right. it just dudn't jive duz it? damn. she seemed sincere to me..."

my wry smile hid the heartache as i got up to ponder the new findings.  i exhaled, and thought to myself:

"well OK. so you figured out what you already knew. what did you expect anyway? to find out that the obvious lies were not so obvious? quit wasting time and energy. get up. move on. be done with it..."

so much fucking wasted time on a glimmer of hope that what i had suspected to be true wasn't after all...that it was really my own insecurity's reflection. actually i think she had suggested that to me once.

did i hope that universal truths would be proven false, that actually having no proof would translate into innocence, and that her deafening silence to questions only she could answer were really...uh, well... an expression of dumb love that froze her up, and she just couldn't explain her true feelings in a meaningful, coherent way?

all smoke and mirrors buddy-boy, wake the fuck up!

the famous INDICATORS were guess what? indicating...pointing in a direction...providing guidance in otherwise non-specific art/science. the art of understanding the meaning of one's actions despite implicit denials of what those actions mean.
 

Hmmm... the INDICATORS were not so much hocus pocus after all- (or the twisted, metaphorical bullshit that i was regularly accused of pulling out of my ass). yet incredulously sometimes even i can be led off the trail, albeit momentarily, by some wacked out blowhard insisting that i am the fraud.

it's like catching someone holding your money, wallet, credit cards, and favorite lamp standing outside your home saying they were trying gather up your things for you in case the house caught fire. they feel you should thank them instead of freaking the fuck out.

NOT.

and like my daddy used to say, "only the nose knows for sure." and just like my daddy, i can still smell the aroma of freshly minted bullshit at fifty paces... and just whom...i mean really... who is surprised by that?
 

no one. not today. not even insecure little ole me.

-30-

...a poem i wrote sometime in 2006

 

 

oh, sweet days on valleydale

 

i see myself in the future, lying listless in a worn out room,

facing up, eyes open.

laments were never quite so real,

but now they hover over me like shameless country vultures.

 

the rank taste of bitter swallowed pride swamps my swollen tongue,

unable to form the words" i love you" any longer.

 

 

i see myself in the future, matted hair that smells like weak vomit,

wondering where you are.

if only a minute i could feel your soul enrich me,

the warmth i once took for granted like sweet carolina sunshine.

 

and knowing that not, not even a flicker remained

in the cold ashes of that cabin in the clouds

those golden days were gone, when our chances took your breath,

and our choices never failed us.

 

 

i see myself in the future, eyes smiling through tears,

re-living our yester years

your smell, that look you made, your self deprecating laugh.

treasures that i'd kept with me when you ran,

as once again i let you choose love's fate.

 

 

but then a knock came gently, though barely heard,

my heart lit up while my minds-eye gathered focus,

i moved cracked lips to form three little words

while obstinent lies rehearsed in the background with their smartly dressed bands

.

 

i see myself in the future, gathering thoughts like sifting worn lottery tickets,

not surprised of their losing

but hanging to the glimmer of catching a simple oversight.

yet like always, like i knew already,

it isn't you knocking with a last ditch chance to set us right.

\

 

my grim guest barely looks up to nod the affirmative,

with a bored bittersweet smile.

it's time to end my game... ...life's done

but, i wanted to say goodbye

 

-thom adams, 2006

U asked me to draw U a picture
first a truck, a garbage truck
then a firetruck

it looked kind of funny U said

can U draw me a lamp?
a house? a tree?
but i'm not good with dogs.

U asked me to tell U a story
i told you about an old firetruck and a fire
but before i was through

U made it into a gumball
and a big bubble at sam's club
your hands were cold. what happened U asked?
U found a toy truck under the chair.

why did the truck run into the big trailer?
why daddy? tell me why did the truck crash into the big trailer?
U decided to go swimming.

i helped you with your floatees
the right one doesn't fit too easy U said
you hugged me and you were happy

your smile lit up my day.

closing time


U rung me up then wrung me out

last call has cum and went

sticky keys of vomit, beer, and booze

smoke and mirrors last lament.


you X'd me out  with a temporary smile

left me the Z's not your beguille

that telling tape of recorded lies

skimming froth from TRUTH, and HOPE...from reconcile.


tha lights came on when the lights went out

an the money headed for the door

do crooks with looks like you feel strange

knowing that my drawers are open, not for you...but CHANGE?


-30-

-Written for a Special friend and mother (Stefanie) of a beautiful two year old (Jayden) on Mothers Day 2008. they had spent the last week or two living with us due to an ex-boyfriend gone mad, and the changing dynamics had left an indellible mark on all our pysches.

our parenting styles were vastly different and we were both frustrated and confused...not to mention how the arrangement affected our TWO beautiful reasons to live, Jayden and Dylan.
 
while they went to Cocoa to enjoy the beach, and Dylan (my son) went to his grandma's house for mother's day, i had a few moments (finally) alone to relax and write this sing-songy poem...

What Will Come and What May?

_

 

at the risk of ridicule i write,

say i know nothing and nothing i might.

 

but to jump on conclusion would be a dark ride at night,

stumbling contusions only avoided by sight.

 

with scars healed by daylight and bones who've seen bite,

i must take you and your screaming to the woodshed of light.

 

*

 

there lived a young maiden, in a land far away,

spent 20 years of bailing yet making no hay.

 

her worries so huge, they were making her grey,

her mind was confused jus' keepin demons at bay.

 

THOUGH she was sharp, strong and able, that didn't pay,

she was searching for answers, what will come and what may?

 

*

 

meanwhile, back at the office of crisis and crowd,

the vortex had summoned my life clear and SO loud.

 

i was forced to eat porage of love and deceit,

then i woke up in heaven and whom did i greet?

 

*

 

A line of old men who all looked like my dad,

ragged long faces, not happy not sad.

 

their clothes matched each other's, not yellow or red,

but just like 'old wisdom', they were gray flannel dead.

 

i was happy to see them, i think they were me, (i think they were me?)

and then i was certain when they all stood to pee.

 

*

 

my limelight soon over, the focus turned off of me,

just behind my left shoulder sat (my son) in our Tree.

 

the branches were spindly, they all shook when he smiled,

my love was enormous but our chances looked vile.

 

i thought no need to worry, what will come and what may,

then i saw you an' (urson Jayden), at the beach yesterday.

 

-30-

 

sometimes we need to vent as in the following letter written to a local judge after she blatantly disregarded proof and testimony of my small claims case against a rip off artist in orlando...

 

Judge Jerri L.Collins

Seminole County Small Claims

1101 East First Street

Sanford, Florida 32771

Open letter to Seminole County Judge Jerry Collins,

Congratulations on your recent appointment to the bench. I'm sure you and your family will enjoy the additional prestige and pay that comes with such an honorable judicial position.

With that in mind I'd like to mention that my family too could have used the money you (stole) from me a few weeks ago in my small claims case against a drunken, lying, car repair ripoff man. As a single father having shared custody of a 16 month old baby boy (thanks, my first child!), I more than ever appreciate how important each dollar is. It's really too bad incompetence like yours rules the day.

To simplify, I resent the careless decision you made and it causes me to distrust a legal system whereby such irresponsible verdicts are possible. The thief walks away with impunity, the victim gets no justice or his hard earned money, and the Judge makes decisions which she refuses to explain. Had you listened to the testimony during the hearing you would know that your verdict is reprehensible and wrong!

I must ask if you ever look in the mirror? If so, what is it you see?

I've spent lots of time chasing down liars, lizards, and snakes in this swamp. Yet the paperwork and legal expense of righteousness has nearly made it unworthy of most good citizens' efforts. Idiotic decisions like yours will insure that the vermin proliferate and the taxpayer suffers. Remember, those judges proud to make unpopular decisions are those who are happy to explain them.

Now I'm sure you expect to make unpopular legal decisions from time to time, and already understand how the law has nothing to do with right and wrong. But, how often do you expect to be both legally wrong and morally bankrupt?

And what's with your hiding behind your robe  when i called to inquire about what possible reasons (legal or otherwise) you might have imagined while making your decision? You failed to give any clues in both your final judgment decree, or your later denial of my motion for a new trial? Is that too much for a Plaintiff to ask or were you aware that any reason you gave would be insufficient, illogical, and unjust?

Can you understand how much precious time it took to prepare for the trial (see calendars and charts i entered as evidence), and then the lengthy motion? Are you oblivious to the fact that small claims originators generally do not employ parallegals or enjoy law libraries, thusly, couldn't small claims court findings be written in simple English?

Perhaps a translation of court (legal) jargon (in modern English) should accompany  your findings, or would any understanding of your verdict be useless?

I want to to point out to you that small claims court was created for regular citizens to use largely because of the high cost of litigation. Let me translate that for you: our legal system, which is largely based on old Roman law which was written in Latin, is so outdated, complex, and cumbersome in today's world that attorneys can't profit (if seeking remedy in matters under $5000).

Regular folks need regular means to regular ends.

In other words, when you send John Q. Public a ruling that states, "otherwise fully advised in the premises", are you intentionally trying to mislead or intimidate him, or just unaware that the King's language is a dynamic one and the sentence is meaningless today? Hey, even though I'm fifty, I'm down with that!

By the same token, I'll remind you that Latin is no longer in vogue in most American circles. While on the subject, do you or anyone attach meaning to "spirit of the law" anymore? Can you really appreciate that small claims court is meant to sort of by-pass the jibber-jabber and arcane formality, so that you, all-knowing Judge, can ultimately arrive at the truth?

i personally think that you cannot. Perhaps you should look at the forest rather than being blinded by the trees. What you'll see will astonish you.

Now Judge Jerri, a review of my case is in order, though I can't afford to hire an attorney to appeal your idiotic decision. My head and heart knows that you and the liar are smug accomplices to shameful injustice:

Despite the fact that I and the defendant, and I suspect you, know the truth and did so at the hearing, you chose the low road and took him at his despicable word ignoring the red flags he desperately waved at you. Fine. So be it. Let's go with that.

Should we walk you through what he did say and admit to during the hearing, albeit inadvertently, to implicate and perjure himself?

He agreed that originally he was to fix my automatic-convertible roof open/close mechanism which did not work, and charged me $862 for that, and that I took the car home apparently satisfied that he had fixed the roof mechanism.

He admitted that i returned saying that the tiny windows which only operate with the roof open/close mechanism, would not go up. and, that he then kept the car to repair that issue. He testified that when I returned for the car he had repaired the windows (thus repairing the open/close mechanism once again), and that he attempted to demonstrate this (repair) for me in his shop.

Mr. Scumbag agreed with my testimony that I left the shop furious because the roof quit working for good when he attempted to demonstrate this new repair (though he skipped over his drunken belligerence that I testified to earlier). He forgot to mention the additional $569 check he demanded for that repair. and granted, he didn't confirm nor contest my earlier sworn testimony where I said that I heard a metal-on-metal "crunching noise" as he demonstrated the roof opening/closing, and "yelled for him to stop", but he kept on going until the roof finally stopped mid-way.

Instead, he took the road less traveled and insisted that "we" operated the roof open/closing when it stopped. but, how so? Isn't it electric, and does it really need two people to push the open/close button at once? Let's for a minute say I did push it and even alone, would that make any difference? Wouldn't he still be libel for arranging the parts to my roof such that pushing the open/close button by someone destroys the intended useful operation of the open/close mechanism? C'mon judge, inquiring minds want to know.

He openly admitted that when i returned for my car the next day (actually it was 3 days), I found a large pool of hydraulic fluid under my car in his shop floor. The roof was where he and i left it days before, at half mast. Yet he somewhat confidently testified that he did not cause this latter issue, and suggested that it was a "pre-existing" condition, perhaps related to a wreck that i had exactly ONE YEAR earlier. How preposterous!

Now, good and honorable Judge, couldn't you find the sublime admission of guilt by this impostor? Hadn't I just paid him $862 to fix my roof- open/closer earlier to which he said that he had accomplished?

But this "pre-existing" condition (that he did not cause) was apparently so serious that hydraulic fluid would pool in his shop floor? Well, good Judge, where was the fluid in the days before? Please enlighten me your honor, did he fix the roof or tear it up?  Was the crunching sound my sly invention, or you eating potato chips during your nap in court?

Or is it more likely that he is a pathetic liar intent on blaming others for his incompetence, and willing to lie under oath because it works with gullible judges like yourself?

Let's see:

The next $1862 I spent getting my roof repaired by a reputable car dealer who claimed on their estimate and presented on their invoice, that whomever had worked on it was not qualified, used improper tools, and damaged (my) vehicle's roof open/close mechanism was what: imaginary money that my son will never have for college or inadmissible evidence? But then you admitted all of my evidence during court, didn't you? See car repair estimate and car repair invoice. 

See spot run. See thom slump. See good Judge ignore the facts.

And then hilariously, and to top it off, your accomplice (my word, not yours) started his testimony by showing the court a picture of his shop where 'there is a little room in the corner' and, "you can see outside but you can't see inside". Of course, he then produced a witness whom I'd never seen (a little lady) who was to testify. BUT to what? Well, apparently she couldn't manage the lie anymore and said nothing. You immediately excused her. Great job!

You are either naive, stupid, or illogical Judge Collins, and none of these bode well for the good citizens of Seminole County. You can't handle the truth, or the law. Hiding from your constituency is pathetic, and your brand of justice doesn't make any sense, nor is it fair.  It's wrong.  Shame on you!

Here's my advice (but to be honest I know you don't care):

In small claims court you have a chance to speak plain English to plain people and get off your stupid little Greco-Roman cloud, ma'am. Think "spirit of the law" as in, catch the cheats. Period.

Try for the crooks, criminals, and assorted vermin that sliver through Seminole County un-bothered by your broken logic and un-tethered by your petty pretensions. Else honest citizens who help pay your bills and seek simple justice will go bankrupt hunting their giddy transgressors.  And hey, if you can't tell who's who, please ma'am, get off the bench and go back to lawyering.

I mean, c'mon.  You gotta stand for something...or you're gonna fall for everything. I am,

Ashamed of you,

thom adams

2337 worthington road

Maitland, Florida 32751

407.617.9280

thom_adams@hotmail.com