© 2015 by Tom Windham Productions 

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Poetry Too is a paSSion...

What do you expect?

After all

I was raised on clown food

 

Old McDonald had a farm

Oh so long ago

Buy a burger, kiddie meal

Clown food helps you grow

 

May I ask,

What do you expect?

 

After all

Jack and Jill went up the hill

To smoke a bowl of crack

Jack fell down and broke his crown

While Jill spaced on her back

 

When the wind lows

The cradle will rock

Baby and all, rock and roll

Let’s all rock and roll

 

What?

 

Jack be nimble, jack be quick

Jack caught aids and now he’s sick

 

Ashes, ashes, all fall down

Let’s all bow down to the clown

 

America, America

God shed his grace on the

Let’s sell it to Japan

From sea to filthy sea

 

What do you expect from me?

 

Twinkle, twinkle, little star

Master actor that you are

Convinced us you were heaven sent

In your role as president

 

Hey, Daddy

Are cows real or make believe?

 

There was an old lady who lived in a shoe

A matter of internal revenue

She had so many kids

She didn’t know what to do

She just turned around and it was gone

Her money, pride, and ozone

 

Hey!

What do you expect?

No, I’m not down

I’m just fed

From the belly

Of a clown

Clown Food

Sure, you might die

Someday

You just might cut short

All your dreams

 

But the vision hold

The vision holds

One more day

 

Night dreams fade

Coffee made

It's another working day

 

There’s nothing new under the sun

All you can do has once been done

Forget the work, just have fun

For everything is nothing

 

A new day

A brand new day and I am here

Three more cups, a can of beer

Light the light, hide the fear

For nothing matters

 

Nothing matters except everything

 

It’s a working day

Time demands

A working day

 

There’s no new day except today

Something new, I’d dare to say

It’s time to work, forget the play

For something’s more than nothing

 

Something’s more

 

It’s the workman’s fate

Visions of grandeur

Visions great

 

Forget yourself, drop your pride

Your everything is one short ride

Life is long, someone lied

And nothing comes from nothing

 

Daydreams come

Few be done

It’s another working day

Another Working Day

In the quiet of the morning

When alone, my God, with you

Tenderly you touch my heartstrings

With a song for me from you

 

From a child my mother taught me

“Men you’ll meet are not so smart

Put no trust in this world’s wisdom

Only God can heal a heart”

 

But with time my mind grew cloudy

Storms of darkness loomed each year

Quiet peace by thunder broken

Came the flood, the rain of fear

 

“Is nothing stronger than this torrent?

Nothing,” said I, “can I find

This world’s wisdom has no answers

Nothing heals my battered mind”

 

Then a message was delivered

Faithfully he spake the truth

Healed the heart of fear within me

Gelled the lesson of my youth

 

In the quiet of the morning

Your sweet song, my God, I hear

By your word I’ve come to know you

Perfect love casts out all fear

Perfect Love

Tied in “nots”, a drag to be

Tied in knots and never free

Tied in “nots”, you cannot see

What’s coming down around you

 

Can’t and won’t, that’s how you think

You fear tomorrow so you drink

You will not find your missing link

And hope is just the next brew

 

(The rope of failure’s ‘round you neck

I, too, have faced that noose

And yet without the killer knot

The harmless rope hangs loose)

 

Tied in “nots”, that’s not for me

Tied in knots I’ll never be!

I can and will, I must be free

To lovingly untie you

Tied in "Nots"

One has depth beyond his years

Not afraid to try

Or face his fear

A talented youth, all do agree

My eldest son

Named after me

 

Such emotion and heart he can express

I am proud of my son

I must confess

He’s strong and agile and loves to play

Yet meek before God

He remembers to pray

 

Oh, he’s not perfect (He is my son!)

Not great in school

Some things left undone

Yet a wonderful boy with light in his eye

A love in his heart

That will never die

 

Another is active, free and wild

He seeks adventure

My second child

Named after men who were much the same

Travis Crockett

Lives up to his name

 

He can be stubborn when he thinks he’s right

Afraid of nothing

Ready to fight

Yet tender and gentle with love so real

My little warrior

Of velvet and steel

 

Another’s a beauty, a prissy young thing

She’s pretty and sweet

And loves to sing

Soft hearted and kind and ready to give

She’ll be my princess

As long as I live

 

Oh, she’ll play with bugs she finds in weeds

Then dress like Mama

In lace and beads

Not afraid of lizards as most girls would be

My heart just melts

When she kisses me

 

Last but not least is my “Monkey-jack”

Of boundless zest

She has no lack

A lover of life, a smile on her face

A beautiful blend

Of wildness and grace

 

A song from her heart, grace like a swan

A spirit as free

As the woodland fawn

She runs and she dances and lives life wild

My tender beauty

My sweet fourth child

 

Four children have I, more special to me

Than life, itself

Or the world, you see

So proud am I, above all the rest

Convinced, am I

They are the best

 

I’m not a rich man, most people would say

Yet the wealth of the world

Is too little to pay

For all I’ve been given by God so kind

And a wealthier man

You’ll never find

My Treasures

She was born into some money

Not a worry met her mind

She was raised in ease and softness

Simple stresses hard to find

As she ate her Cornish game hen

On her plate of china fine

She imagined herself someone

From a deep and noble line

 

She, the super critic

She’s the judge of those who live

She’s the critic of the artist

With her verdicts out to give

 

As she bathes her fattened body

She considers heaven’s best

Only one could see so clearly

For she’s better than the rest

Oh, the art of acting humble

She has mastered more than most

She’s so gracious if you’re someone

To your wealth she’ll make a toast

 

She, the super critic

She’s the judge of those who try

She’s the scorner of the artist

Only tokens with she buy

 

She will die with all her money

As the vultures pick her clean

No one cries at her departure

Only token tears be seen

As the artist paints his canvas

And the writer pens his tale

All the treasurers of the critic

Will be offered up for sale

Super Critic Rap

The lonesome drum of winter rain

The rhythm of the fan

Too many hours intense in thought

Took me away, again

 

The old screen door swung open then

Into my room he came

Familiar were those deep tired eyes

And yet I knew no name

 

"Hello," said I, "My name is Tom

This is my studio"

He looked at me

In irony

And simply said, "I know"

 

Now I've known men of every sort

A friendly chap am I

Yet still a chill ran up my spine

When we met eye to eye

 

"Sit down" said he, "I won't be long

My face I rarely show

It's of small course that you are here

You, too, someday will go

 

You say you like this rustic room

A place to paint, you say

But many men have found this room

a place to hide away

 

Drifters, gamblers, young buck studs

Outlaws tracking mud

Upon this floor some beer's been spilled

Some tears and even blood

 

You're not the first to dream in here

These walls could tell you best

You think you're different, but you're not

You're just like all the rest

 

I, too, once dreamed what I would be

of doing something great

But when I knew what I should do

By then it was too late

 

A few bad breaks, I just got tired

Perhaps it was the fear

Of failure that defeated me

And drowned my dreams in beer

 

Well, I'm not one to give advice

But this one thing I know

The race of life cannot be won

By those who judge time slow"

 

A sudden gust of chilling wind

Awoke me from my sleep

There on my canvas were the eyes

So tired, so old, so deep

 

I'm just a painter, nothing more

With a room in an old saloon

with dreams as bright

In an indigo night

As the glow of the harvest moon

 

Another dreamer in a room

Where others just like me

Have dreamed their dreams of mighty deeds

Of life and chivalry

 

I'm just another set of feet

To walk across this floor

Another man to toast to life

I'm this and nothing more

 

Yet I've been warned in ghostly ways

Take heed while in my prime

My race in life cannot be won

Unless I race with time

 

(published in the Houston Chronicle and the Spring Cypress News)

The Warning

They're so afraid of God

 

When I was young

Some things were clear

So simple

I didnt understand

I didn't care

But I could see

Don't throw your god at me

 

Collect your shiny hats

Your mystical ego crowns

While spirit's poured

Proclaim your hoard

In all your outreach towns

 

But if you're honest

Try to be

Fear eats at you and eats at you

You just might lose them, too

 

Your trembling does not cease

And still you cry out, "Peace!"

 

Don't offer that to me

 

When spring leaves fall

Lop the tree

In the summer, if you dare

Check the fruit

 

Cry in vain

For holy rain

But death is in the root

 

I'm tired of being afraid

 

Your down-line cries

You dare not take a change

Scare the babies

Keep them blind

An esoteric trance

 

I'm ready to be loved

 

Be a warrior

Run a race

Paint a smile

Upon your smile

Upon your face

 

Don't consider

Question not

Put paper leaves

Upon your tree

And please ignore this rot

 

I'm tired of what you call love

 

My son did wrong today

The rascal didn't obey

But at night

I held him tight

As he began to pray

 

So simple

 

OK ... I'll admit

I cried

He asked me why

 

"I love you so much, my sone"

 

My son is young

So tender, so fair

 

He doesn't understand

He doesn't care

 

He's not scared of God

He's not scared of me

 

Keep your God and all you sick  clown crowns

Keep your hanging tree

 

I'm ready to love

Ready to Love

Well, Tom, how you doing today?

Oh, I think I’m ok

 

Let’s see, where did I put that?

You idiot

You are so screwed up!

That’s alright

I’m doing better

 

Oh yeah?  Listen to yourself!

Sometimes I don’t blame her at all

You’re crazy, you know it?

What is “crazy” anyway?

Everything is crazy

Maybe I’m not nuts at all!

 

Oh, I remember where I put it

What did I need it for?

 

If you’re not crazy, why do you talk to yourself?

That’s not crazy, everybody does that

Yeah, but you even answer yourself!

That’s not crazy, either

 

Now, see, I had something I had to do

It’s a waste of time and thought

To discuss this matter

 

That proves my point

You talk to yourself

You answer yourself

You even argue with yourself!

 

That’s normal

Now I need to lock into my work

Who do you think you are, anyway?

 

Look, idiot, I’m you!  And you are me!

And that scares me

 

Look, talking to yourself is normal

Even answering yourself is normal

Just leave me alone

 

You are alone!  That’s what I’m trying to tell you!

 

Huh?

You're Not Crazy Until

You Say, 'Huh?'

Few things in life are simple

Especially for me

Yet by magic light so glorious

I know

It’s simply meant to be

 

Not simply just a sparkle

It’s a glimpse inside your soul

Diamonds, rubies, sapphires

I see

And love for you I know

 

Yet bewildered by such mercy

And unworthy of such grace

That sparkle, your smile, and sweet

Kindness

So real

And the joy in your beautiful face

 

To touch you

To hold you

And think always of you

And simply try to say

Nina, I will always love you

And in my heart you will stay

Day after day, every day

My love for you is true

Nina

Where in history do you stand?

Would you have really stood?

If others hid and could not act

Would you be one who could?

 

If in the days before the flood

With Noah would you build?

Or would you be among the ones

Beneath the water killed?

 

If born when Moses led the way

Would you have gone with him?

Or looked at Egypt’s strength and wealth

And stayed behind with them?

 

If in the days of Gideon

Would you have gone to fight?

Or would you bow to take your drink

And fear the strangers might?

 

When Christ was taken to the tree

And all the world was black

Would you have stood against the mob?

Or hid and turned your back?

 

Where in history do you stand?

For these are days that tell

Will you be one who stands for truth?

Or will your soul you sell?

Where

Steady gaze and head held high

Moving fast and knowing why

Years ahead of peers his age

Not afraid of Satan’s rage

The heart of a Champion

 

Never taught to live by fear

The still small voice he’s learned

To hear His mind is stayed, not running wild

He understands though still a child

The mind of a Champion

 

Learning, growing by God’s word

Doubting not the truth he’s heard

Able willing, loves to give

Teaching others how to live

The life of a Champion

 

Looking forward to the day

When he’s gathered home to stay

While others quit with drink and

Dope my son shall live a life of hope

My son shall be a Champion

Champion