Rob Ayling writes: "Thom the World poet, is an old mate of mine from way back in my history. Even pre-dating Voiceprint, when I was running "Otter Songs" and Tom's poetry tapes and guest appearences with Daevid Allen, Gilli Smyth, Mother Gong are well known and highly regarded. It just felt right to include a daily poem from Thom on our Gonzo blog and when I approached him to do so, he replied with in seconds!!!Thom is a great talent and just wants to spread poetry, light and positive energy across the globe. If we at Gonzo can help him do that - why not? why not indeed!!"
when someone dies,things fall
when someone dies,things fall
there is no one new to hold them up at all
let go of all the little wars/every thing you owned
must find a new home.Objects outnumber us.
They are adamant about time and demand space.
They will not relent,change,negotiate.At times
we have to purge,spring clean,let go,release-
as we age,and cannot hold the weight of things
moving brings despair-where will my books live?
Stories that still sing to us must leave like lovers
There is no room in the bed of your head
as you contemplate extinction /diminution-a lessening
of space to hold what is most precious to you
Less time to count the flowers/now you weed the garden
Things become duty-you wish to leave
So now grievers must sift your stories
and file under "F" for FORGET..
there is no one new to hold them up at all
let go of all the little wars/every thing you owned
must find a new home.Objects outnumber us.
They are adamant about time and demand space.
They will not relent,change,negotiate.At times
we have to purge,spring clean,let go,release-
as we age,and cannot hold the weight of things
moving brings despair-where will my books live?
Stories that still sing to us must leave like lovers
There is no room in the bed of your head
as you contemplate extinction /diminution-a lessening
of space to hold what is most precious to you
Less time to count the flowers/now you weed the garden
Things become duty-you wish to leave
So now grievers must sift your stories
and file under "F" for FORGET..
I BEGAN TO REALIZE MY ONLY ENEMY WAS TIME
it ran out of the room,crying.I did not mean to embarrass clocks
by this sand,these rented sundials,the idle sleeping afternoons
If i had known when my train of skin was leaving
i would have only changed my destination to HEAR and YES
i still do not know.Some carriages (of thoughts)have already left
My train (of feelings)is derailed.If i disturb you by mentioning ends
it is just this is so unexpected
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