cuse Me

my guitar is silent
my fingers no longer work
those days have slipped away
all the hours that I played
'cuse me while I kiss the sky
love, Jimi

poem by Kendall Thomas
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The Red Rose

There was a rose,
a red, red rose,
on the side of a rocky hill
that overlooked a verdant valley
near a clear and gentle rill.

In the fleeing hours
that spiral and spiral
I have tried to find beauty once more,
but one cannot retrieve
the blush nature decrees
must someday fade away
as from a red, red rose.

poem by Kendall Thomas
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The Funny Farm

Green and yellow
apple orange
this is the way to the funny farm
where people work from break of dawn
and never think they’ve worked too long.
Hoein’ and mowin’,
huffin’ and puffin’,
they work all day for damn little or nothin’.
Green and yellow
apple orange
that’s why it’s called the funny farm.

poem by Kendall Thomas
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Ballad of Bonnie and Clyde

Bonnie and Clyde
went out for a ride
with the Devil for a guide.

In a hot V-8 Ford
they took off with a roar
machine guns by their sides.

Bonnie was neat
and very petite
and Clyde was a handsome guy.

They robbed banks and stores,
and gas stations galore,
thumbing their noses at
a world they decried.

But the law was enraged
and made plans to engage
the infamous duo someday.

[...] Read more

poem by Kendall Thomas
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An American Prayer

I’m gonna kill, rape and plunder
cause I do what I’m told to do.
My government would never lie,
so I do what I’m told to do.

There are little, brown people
who want to hurt me and you;
so I kill, rape and plunder
and do what I’m told to do.

Well, I kill, rape and plunder
so the rich get what they’re due.
I shut my ears to the screams
of the children that I've slew.

Well, they’re just godless heathens
who don’t believe in good like me and you;
It’s alright to kill’em
before they kill me and you.

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poem by Kendall Thomas
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A Roomful of Laughter

there’s a roomful of laughter
and a roomful of tears
and the women wear pearls
dripping from their ears

the men drive sleek daggers
through the heart of the night
and yesterday’s memories
are locked up tight

there are children singing
full of dispair
in a room filled with laughter
no one cares

the women are pretty
they slither like snakes
through a roomful of glass
they have no time to waste

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poem by Kendall Thomas
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