November 5, 1999 ~ Three Pennies of Garbage ~ To Those Who Have Read My Words Often I Am Called a Poet But That Is Truly Not So Garbage Junk Clutter and Shit ~ True I May Have Journeyed Long and Far I May Have Witnessed More than I Care to Have All Inconveniences You See Sort of like Inadequate Plumbing ~ I Bare My Soul Show No Privatization Write of Loneliness and Burden To Me an Intense and Concentrated Effort ~ Sometimes Also Worthless Words Written with Obscenities Be it of Language or Visions Which My Eyes Still Hold ~ I've Been Called Madman Murderer Killer If Children And Collaborator of Death ~ Most Which I Am Sure Describe Me Somewhat ~ I Live in a Land of Memories Sleep in Purple Sails With Clouds of Smoke And Dream of Occasional Remnants ~ I Am Fortunate Though Being Surrounded by Love My Illusions Are Beautiful Certainly Worthy of Any Mans Heart ~ But Here I Go Again! Strong Side-weak Side Tenderly and Truly I Write Sitting on My Backside ~ Here Again Is Three Pennies Worth of Garbage. ~~~~ Thom