Biography of kendall thomas
Many divert themselves with philosophies and religions to soften the stark reality of existence, but, I think, a walk through any large cemetery will impress upon the intellect the futility of life, despite the stone longings for immortality. In the end, we are only the sum of our memories, and memory is always about something that no longer exist.
kendall thomas Poems
Rivers wind unnoticed through the brown hills and budding trees, where dark, little birds
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.
Ballad Of Bonnie And Clyde
Bonnie and Clyde went out for a ride with the Devil for a guide.
Bukowski's Black Cat
I woke up this morning to a glimpse of delicate blue sky through gray cover. Wonderful!
We entered through the narrow fjord, emerald-sloped and glittering with a silvery gleam where once sailed Viking hordes,
The Bullet Train
We cannot stop the bullet train. It speeds along on tracks ordained. Through fire of day and fog of night
All Things Beautiful
all things beautiful must someday die said the wind with a sigh
Birds Scream In Attics
I walk down marble halls that echo nothing genuine Birds scream in attics Women blacken their eyelids
Once upon a time A stone was flung across a universe By a mindless hand
Requiem For A Porn Star
While you have been dead these many years, I have heard pagan calls desiring me to lift your pale body from the sea,
A butterfly was trapped on the inside of my window. It flittered about not finding anyway out.
The Funny Farm
Green and yellow apple orange this is the way to the funny farm where people work from break of dawn
Sculpted in death, models on display, this mute cast shows how it was to die. The terror they knew is engraved on their faces, their prayers canceled in a pyroclastic flow.
evenings the bums sat around talking the poetry of life dirty blue-fringed words hands cracked cold before the fire
I hear your repeated syllable
of loneliness and despair
come across this ploughed meadow
as I search for arrowheads.
watching from your pine perch,
of those who brought us here