Poetry from the book {Bunny Hop} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas

Lead character  Tommy Thumbs Dicksell

A cop on the beat in New York city

He wrecks cars, kills, maims, destroys, causes accidents to happen, creates mass riots by shutting down the cities electrical grid

In a back alley at the end of the story he's killed by a black midget in an afro (a hair style that is taller than his whole body)

The midget shoves the gun into his balls and fires six times.

Poetry from the book {Bunny Hop} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas

Poetry from the book {Bunny Hop} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas

                         I Love you baby
The first time I saw you I couldn't believe my eyes
                     You are so beautiful
                I'd follow you to my death
            Rush the boulevard to get to you.

Poetry from the book {Bunny Hop} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas

Poetry from the book {Bunny Hop} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas

She looks rather a nice person

Unlike their leaders

Unlike those who think they should lead

Unlike the leader who follows the polls

It's rather a silly situation

Those who should lead, should not want.

Poetry from the book {Bunny Hop} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas

Poetry from the book {Bunny Hop} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas

Come down to the farm and meet me on the storm

On the plate it will greet the most treasured meat

Though one is missed one woman does fit on this here farm

I want to hug my grandmother but I am traveling away from humanity

I shift my spade through the sod and look in wonder at the sheer black earth amazing

They could not have picked a better place, than to pull the rocks, the stumps, and the prairie away

It is destiny that the prairie dies and that farming doesn't pay

I walk off into the field till everything is an invisible speck and I am alone

This loneness is complete on this barren spot yet the sky is always a high promise of beauty

Is this life yet to be or do I turn and face the crowd

The field is spring bare and I am the only weed

I enjoy running the bare path to the rivers edge to dunk my sore body in relief in the wet sand

And on the island there are footprints amid the coral bank

Our streets are not gold but pavement and we earn profit from toil 

We turn into the forest with great thanks and find the bells and blood root awake

A pie and spaghetti dinner sit on the table among eighteen others, eating is a part of the farm

Mowing around the spruces, jousting on the Deers, pulling out the nests, shooting at the vents on the hog house

I tried to find the fox but he was gone and I did miss, the children played on

The fox caught by bullets and to think he giggled and drank the cup of blood and sat on a treasure trove of chicken feathers

I go to where the wild plums grow, the flowers smell like a hundred perfume counters

Iowa is bare earth till the corn grows up again

In Spring there is a special glow that flares from the grass

The swing sways in the wind with the chain swinging wildly and the pipes chime.

Poetry from the book {Bunny Hop} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas  

Poetry from the book {Bunny Hop} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas

Every Sunday of his life he went to church and life is sweet

Every day he shuffled his way to the same cafe for lunch and life is sweet

He and his wife never had a child and life is sweet

He started out as a bell hop and became a banker and life is sweet

One day he fell and broke his leg and life is sweet

He was interred into an old folks home and life is sweet

His wife died and had friends who cared and life is sweet

He lost the use of his legs and life is sweet

He lost his ears and eyes and life is sweet

His body became stone, drug ridden and life is sweet

Maltreatment in the home eats away at his body and life is sweet

Operation 1, 2 and 3 and life is sweet

At the hospital he was hooked up to machines and lived to 103 and life is sweet.

Poetry from the book {Bunny Hop} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas

Poetry from the book {Bunny Hop} by Troy Richard Thomas

There once was a frog that sang sweetly in the garden of delights

A beautiful miss strolled along the lotus pond where mermen jealously eyed her

The songs the frog sang were each new, and each better

But each day as she neared the shy frog stopped his throaty singing

The girl was puzzled and she asked merman Matisse to catch her the frog

And merman Matisse knew exactly which frog to procure for the lady

All a frog is, is a tongue , stomach, and legs

Matisse handed her the frog and asked if she would like to eat it

"Oh dear no", she said , I couldn't think of such a thing for this frog

She opened her hand and the frog looked strong, stout, and quite silly

{Lady} Dear frog, why don't you sing for me

{Frog} I sing to the water, which is my maker, greater than all

{Lady}Won't you sing for me frog, I need a song that I can hold on to

A tear stroked the frogs loneliness 

{Frog} I will sing for you on the morrow in the full bright moon my lady

And the frog jumped with speed and plunged into the water

She plunged her hand into the water and said she would be pleased

In sweet darkness the lady came and sat beside the pond

The moon gave a wink and the frog started to sing

It was a love ballad the frog sang with tragedy and romance in his voice

The frogs beautiful song moved her to tears

The frog swam to her and crawled onto a lily pad

{Lady} Was that from your heart?

{Frog} It was my heart, I love you my lady

{Lady} That is but infatuation and besides you don't even know my person

{Frog} You are my fate

{Lady} Many times fate can betray you

{Frog} Is true my lady, I shall sadly go back, but I plead you go with me

{Lady} As I walk away you should know that I am to be married to a two legged wallet

The frog spun in the glass drain below

And ended with his cooked legs on Matisse's fork.

Poetry from the book {Bunny Hop} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas

Poetry from the book {Bunny Hop} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas

                 It aint Love, it's Money Honey.

Poetry from the book {Bunny Hop} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas

Poetry from the book {Bunny Hop} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas

Imagine what a place this could be

If all the seeds I've sowed were to come up

The splendor of the grass and all the flowers within the cup

Sit in the garden with the birds and the bees and watch all of the life rejoice.

Poetry from the book {Bunny Hop} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas

Poetry from the book {Bunny Hop} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas

Business interests

Caribbean cheap labor

20 years American marine rule in Haiti

In interests of war

The bland faces of communism

The Haiti people elect a man to bring them out of poverty

The Haitian military rules

All players are dirty

Hands tied with barbed wire

Dead bodies strewn across the beaches

Haitians cross the ocean in unseaworthy vessels

Here rules the rifle, as it does here

There is nothing that we can do

America stands for freedom

The American government secretly backs military rule

Haitians are finger printed upon return

Haiti is business as usual, Slave eats Slave

Currently Republican George Bush is president.

Poetry from the book {Bunny Hop} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas

Poetry from the book {Bunny Hop} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas

The conservative ideal of no brains, no balls

The talking head on tray cart wheels

Give the right parties, kiss the right ass, brown nose, and move up the corporate ladder

The hierarchy wants you to slobber on their robes, or fear them, or suffer under their rule

Go to all the right little schools and, play all the games and, you can be a smart little prick

Alivia stands behind the throne

The Republicans might be called "Authoritarians"

The Democrats might be called considerate scumbags with a conscience

The cups are half full these days

It's all lies and advertising, you are being controlled and, herded into a box.

Poetry from the book {Bunny Hop} by Artist
Troy Richard Thomas

Poetry from the book {Bunny Hop} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas

                               The road

What is there left to say, but that we have finished the road

We have ruined everything

We the people are not long for this world

It is but a guess to our time of expiration

A human scape is not worth living in

Go where you will

I'll see you in the darkness of the spaceship that is fleeing earth.

Poetry from the book {Bunny Hop} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas

Poetry from the book {Bunny Hop} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas

Geronimo painting

Of war and life he was one of the greatest Americans

In the painting the turtle is the being, the super animal inside the human

The frog on top of the head means nature, survival, and the similarities to the facial expressions and spirit

The bird on the left is nature and is part of the gun butt

The bird on the right represents nature

Blood red tears flow from the eye

The are in the right hand corner is fill

The clouds represent beauty, violence, and freedom

Blue field on left is sky or fill

On top of blue field is color break and not glasses as suggested by my Father

Light blue waves of chin, the hidden meaning of water or river

The bullet played an important part in Geronimos life and represents part of his knee

Circular life both sides of head comes from the painter Gauguin

Inter connecting circuit on left is modern world or civilization on trial.

Poetry from the book {Bunny Hop} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas

Poetry from the book {Bunny Hop} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas

Driving down highway (6)

This how Johnny Two Tone got his kicks

He had a hard rock in his pants for a latter day girlfriend

He read a Tijuana Bible while he drove down the road

Johnny Two Tone didn't give a fuck who he hit, just so he did it well

Two drove nude, except for an oak leaf glued to his penis

He was busted in Nebraska 22 times for indecent exposure

He was raped in jail by two Evangelical ministers

The two faggots sang hymns afterwords

Johnny Two Tone had the great ability of being able to suck on his own manly nipples and receive carrot juice

Johnny Two read the obituaries while he pointed a gun to his head

His underwear smelled of erect pillow passion

Upon leaving he torched his motel room

At a grocery store he stuffed blood red meat down his pants

Johnny broke into a new found widows home

While she was at her husbands funeral he microwaved her dog and her pussy

He took a pee in the street and was arrested

Johnny Two Tone walks into a cloning machine and over populates Iceland

He placed leeches on his knees to cure his brain disorder

Five Japanese tourists take pictures of Johnny in the park

He invited them over to his bachelor pad where he fed them cans of Alpo (they couldn't read the labels)

Johnny Two put his tounge in the electrical socket and went out and got a job at fast food restaurant

Two pimple faced kids he worked with wiped their noses on the buns and got arrested

Johnny threw a dead turtle in the deep fat fryer

He stood naked at a fat farm and was desired by blob butted girls

In Hollywood he was picked up by a porno queen who painted her nails a bright green

As sex film star he shoves his toes into a socially smart vagina

The director and photographer jacks off and gives all his films camera shake

Two shaved baboons enter the set and butt ravage a transvestite

Johnny Two Tone runs to the land of the sacred cow

Under the half eaten moon Johnny plants landmines on pastureland

Milk cows named Emma and Philips 76 bloat in the sun

Skeleton mastodons hang from a dead mans thumb

Vultures circle the white prick church full of bat shit

Johnny Two Tone grabs a spaceship and blasts off to another solar system where he torches an alien nation

The Greek god Odonius lives on

Welcome to the insane asylum, it's so nice to be here.

Poetry from the book {Bunny Hop} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas

Poetry from the book {Bunny Hop} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas

Little boy running with glee towards the garden of eden

You have to fight for every breath you take

Try not to shed blood if at all possible

There is no man that stands tall among us

The freak show horse has passed away and entered another universe

Beneath the river another artist passes, he died poverty stricken

She likes the failure, she is the average stain that humanity shits out every four seconds

For shame on the these thinking beings for who are they to trust

No man is lower than a politico

We cannot say we are truly here

Through ages history is lost, and the same things are fought for

The sun  grants us a long life, and greets us at our wake

Democracy for the people by the people

We deserve the government we vote for

The political machine represents us

God I wish we had a choice

For me the two party system does not satisfy.

Poetry from the book {Bunny Hop} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas

Poetry from the book {The Lion and the Sun} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas

                                105 Cupcakes

The chorus teacher told me it was my turn to bring treats to class on Friday

I begged my Mother to bake 105 cupcakes for class

My Mom carefully packed them away in a box and told me that I could have two of them

Being the angelic person that I am, I helped myself to 32 cupcakes

They were the best cupcakes I've ever had, they were made with love and joy, and I enjoyed every damn one of them

As walked the four grueling miles to school with that box I started popping those cup cakes in my mouth

By the time I arrived at the school doors I had 38 cupcakes left

At my locker my girlfriend asked me if she could have one

I told her "No!" " you get your own cupcakes, these are all mine"

This a beautiful and kind girl who gave me a bite of her fudgesicle every afternoon, that and hand jobs

And blow jobs whenever I could sneak it in her mouth

Sitting in detention for five periods I whittled away at those cupcakes

The detention room was 5' x 5', painted puke green and was lit by a yellow light bulb

They would have had bars on the room but it was against fire code

They were trying to use psychology to repulse students but I always came back

Just before I walked into chorus class I ate the last of the cupcakes

They were so delicious

The chorus teacher turned to me and asked if I had anything to share with the class

I dumped the box on the floor and said, "I've got a bunch of paper stubs for you bastards to eat"

Six periods of detention, well that's no big deal

The only song I ever sang in chorus was the Batman and Robin song

The truth is I am a great singer but I am more like the Warner Brothers frog in the top hat

                                Ribbit.

Poetry from the book {The Lion and the Sun} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas

   

Poetry from the book {The Lion and the Sun} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas

Turn off the lights

As quiet as a mouse walk downstairs in your socks

Turn on the Christmas lights and bathe under the sparkle of the tree

Let your eyes play amid the drummer boy, the sleigh, the skater, and the sparkling icicles

Let it all play in your mind, the beauty of the lit tree city

While the flame of the stove warms your cheek

Live the dream of wonder.

Poetry from the book {The Lion and the Sun} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas

Diary entry from the book {Promehteus Lives} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas

             Monday July 24       There is an ocean out there. The days are good to me. The sun, trees, and water enhance my being. Even with hard core industry in some places, nature still rules. I have been out a long time on this journey, I am growing tired.
             While loading the boat in the morning a barge came by. I had seen the tow many times before, I think. One of the bargeman steps out the door and yells, "have a safe trip downward!"
              The river was bottle necked on the east side. A mile long sand bar chokes off the river. Barges were staked up in the constrictive area. The current was strong, barges coming downstream were passing through. I paddled near the bar through three inches of water.
              I follow the western shore, a barge is coming up my side, with barges coming down. I hang tight to the bank and take some hard wakes from a barge that passes to close for comfort.
            I go by a log cutting operation, mostly willows. Flocks of white birds, I was told they were cranes. Several colonies of periscoping turtles plopping into the river like dominos.
           Passed the White River, I am camping on a sand bar near Rosedale, Mississippi.

Diary entry from the book {Prometheus Lives} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas

Poetry from the book {Bunny Hop} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas

The awesome power of fate

Placed in the terrarium by the gargantuan

The jungle is infested by the blood thirsty and poisonous

Down in that deep dark blood filled hole

The saber tooth chases deer through the forest

Get down to the violence of survival

Waiting for the right time to escape the glass bubble

It's worth hanging in there

Throwing knives ninja style

My best friend fires a rocket launcher at me

What does life mean in the end but a pocket full of violence

A silly crow landing on my hat, and cawing

Getting screwed by the boss, and fighting back, screw it all

A lonely night spent in heaven

Your back is to the wall, will you ever make it

Adapt or die, fly or cry

A tv junkie sitting in a steel wrapper

Poke a flower in the barrel

Rapid action gunfire.

Poetry from the book {Bunny Hop} by Artist Troy
Richard Thomas

Poetry from the book {Bunny Hop} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas

The edge of death

I'm walking in a house of flames

There is a variety of choices to make and none of them make any damn sense

A naked lady with eight arms hands me an apple and a knife

I lose sight and fall into the water

A liquid mass of atoms

The eagle beckons me to grow talons

The beast grows tall, I become steel.

Poetry from the book {Bunny Hop} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas

Poetry from the book {Bunny Hop} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas

The cups are half full these days

It's a brighter better world out there

It's all a lie, an advertising con game

I understand, but I do not understand

I love, but I cannot love

When the last flower falls, who are we

The big meadow without the cross

The one mountain teaming with waterfalls and tall conifers surrounded by a moat of marshland and lakes

Are we the kin of Crazy Horse?

Is the pain in love everlasting, what does love mean?

Poetry from the book {Bunny Hop} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas

Poetry from the book {Bunny Hop} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas

I stand in the sky touching the cold heart

Watching the snow lizard lick it's wounds

In the darkness a mulberry tree is on fire, melting the snow in a round blue pattern

A naked young woman stands against the flames

A mottled young pup sits obediently and waits for her

The blinking star watches me, I cry out to it for help

A chair gallops up to me and consoles me and tells me to stab myself and fall off the bridge

I wake up to find that I have always been dead

A shrieking silence that blinds

A  blood rojo icicle hangs from my heart

On top of my television set three blind mice conduct a play of Three Musketeers

Three children play on an ocean of grass

The children run up a clock and are catapulted into the sun where little generals play combat with the young pawns

The generals unzip there soldiers chests and remove the bullets and send them back out to play amid the schrapnel

When the generals are done with their little soldiers they send them back home cradling a frozen turkey and a cheap watch made by the people that they fought against.

Poetry from the book {Bunny Hop} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas

The "Loess Hills" Poetry from the book {Prometheus Lives} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas

"16 days Backpacking in the Loess Hills"

The coyotes called in the night

Butterflies fight to lick the sun tan lotion off my arms

The ants will carry you away

Don't feel sorry for the man who's made of steel and sweat

Stripped naked of all her wares

I need you when I'm dreaming

I wake into a fools game

She drenches me with coffee and gin

The lady bug rides on my boot

They have planted something new

I have always cared for you

The removal of clothing in the night

A white horse comes into camp

I ride as a ghost in the gale

The sheperds never sleep, they seem to wait for me

The trees live on a seascape of rolling waves of loess soil

Never mind the end, where is the beginning

They fix cars, they disc fields

Where do I fit in.

Poetry from the book {Prometheus Lives} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas

The "Ran Series" from the book {Bunny Hop} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas

"You're life is my life" said Ran to the still warm body of the deer. He dragged the body down the embankment to the low land woods. He carved the deer as best he could by a fire in the night.

In the morning it was five degrees out and whitely dead. Ran ate by the fire with frosted fingers and a red dot nose. He curled up like a squirrel in his bag fat and happy and let the day move on in dreams.

The "Ran Series" from the book {Bunny Hop} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas

Poetry from the book {Bunny Hop} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas

Burn me country child

Torch my fucking ass, I loved you

She knew I would show up at her door someday

Standing at the doorway dripping blood and tears

Bank robbery, taking down the mansion

Of a big spender who flushed a thousand jobs away

She had to let me go and flush me down the toilet

A bird hits the window looking to fight it's reflection

Skilled people walking the street looking for a piece of bread to eat

Another jagged edge

Is this the happiest time of life

Living in a cocoon

Smooth Johnny and his dead parrot Pete

Getting high on a train line party

Look at all these people with Aids, please help them

Take control over your life

We live our lives on the upper branches, on the lightest leaf

The global system that kills, the third world always loses

Tanks, guns, and oil wells, and little generals with their hands out

There are changes coming, but it takes so long to move this dinosaur race

Never know, never give up, think about what you must do

Don't get tired and lazy, no one will give you food

All some people want are servants, to be served by others

The meaningless life, the party girl.

Poetry from the book {Bunny Hop} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas

Diary entry from the book {Prometheus Lives} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas

              Sunday July 23        I've paddled hard today, I've gone past Helena, Arkansas. Just south of Helena I had to skip around a towboat working on a finger dike.
              The fishermen gave me a loaf of bread and slices of bologna. They were wonderful guys, but they left a disaster area of garbage on the beach. Eighty cans of beer and plastic wrappers strewn across the sand bar. If I picked up every piece of garbage off the beach I don't think I could fit in my boat.
           " It's all down hill from here", they said.
           There many trees in the river. Several houses on the riverbank, which is unusual. Saw the St Francis River flowing in.
            A storm is brewing and it rains hard tonight. I am camping on a strange grassy area, it is a gift from the sand.

Diary entry from the book {Prometheus Lives} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas

Poetry from the book {Bunny Hop} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas

There is a place that has hills that are mountains

Trees cry out from all sides

It is a relic land carved by water and made by an ocean

The stone stands still to be changed into a spire

Touch it, and feel its power and you shall know its past and future

A thousand springs flow down hills in true flight

The rivers, the water, the color of my dreams

It is a place of green peace

Lonely minds can crave its days

The suns rays flow down to the forest floor to light the buttercups and violets just right

You can be brought to face the true sun

A coyote howls in the night, a beaver splashes by your bed

It is beauty, it is thus, it is the maker of you.

Poetry from the book {Bunny Hop} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas

Diary entry from the book {Prometheus Lives} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas

              Saturday July 22       Just south of Memphis. A lot of barge traffic today, and at the end of the day I met several fishing boats. A big rain system is moving in, I'm paddling through a large curving dike system. I spot a viable campsite on the west side, a sandbar that is probably the product of dredging by the Corps. Just as I reach the campsite I see a tent already there, and a bass boat swerves in to check me out. It is spitting rain and I ask them if they would mind me camping nearby. They said it was okay, and I unloaded my boat, and set up my tent as the rain increased.
            As it rained off and on I drank a few beers and talked to the fishermen. They told me four or five days I'd be in New Orleans. I doubted there figure. They had never heard of Lake Itasca or anything north of Cairo, Illinois.
             It rains hard all night long with country music blaring from the bass boat.

Diary entry from the book {Prometheus Lives} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas

Poetry from the book {Bunny Hop} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas

                        Let a poor man fall down
                             Let a rich man pay
                        Eat your fat sisters cake
                            Please don't be late
                             Touch down Jesus
                             Touch down Jesus.

Poetry from the book {Bunny Hop} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas

Diary entry from the book {Prometheus Lives} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas

              Friday July 21     Mile marker 770 to moving through Memphis. The city was pretty architecturally like St Paul. I got pulled over a wing dam while waiting for two barges to move through. I tried to fight my way back to the main channel but the current was to strong. The second bridge was constrictive and a working tow boat was moving all over the place. There were several recreational boats but they gave me no problems. Met a nice fisherman and his son before and after Memphis, I had a nice chat with them.
             The river trip is hard on my body and comfort. The islands are keeping me alive. I am pulled through by each sunset.
             The mosquitos are pure torture.

Diary entry from the book {Prometheus Lives} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas

Poetry from the book {The Lion and the Sun} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas

Herding cattle on the great plains

He has a cigarette permanently fixed to his lips

When he punches cattle, he really punches them in the face

He's a cowboy with grit, and the strength of a great ape

When he has to pee, he urinates in a lemonade bottle and takes it back to the grocery store and sets it on the shelf

He's a man who herds cattle with a poodle.

Poetry from the book {The Lion and the Sun} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas         

Diary entry from the book {Prometheus Lives} by artist Troy Richard Thomas

             Thursday July 20         I go to Osceola, Arkansas. I find and go up an inlet waterway. Barges are parked along the narrow passage up to dike that holds Lake Neark. Fishermen are here in abundance.
             I find a waterway blocking my passage over the levee. After a brief search I return to ask one of the fisherman for directions into town. I follow a dirt path that comes to a hay field. I go over a barbwire fence that is heavily sagged with use. I pop out of the woods and weeds into a dumping ground where I find some black teenagers standing around their car drinking beer. I ask them where the town is and they point and I follow the gravel road into town.
            A grocery store and restaurant lay right in my path. The restaurant was called Sarrelli's Deli. The deli and grocery store was in a black neighborhood. The owner of the store was white with a mostly white dining clientele who were driving into the neighborhood to eat. Mr. Sarrelli gave me a hat printed by the Vernon Company from my home town. He let me fill up on water in the kitchen. I was really happy to have some great food to eat, other than my usual 4 packets of oatmeal.
               The people in Osceola were really wonderful and nice to me. I carry a heavy load of water and food back to my boat. It rains as I do so. The trip back was shorter, now that I knew the route. A large group of kids fishing watched me pack my boat and paddle out of the inlet.
               Once out of the inlet the light rain has turned into a full storm. I hold next to a mud bank and wait out the storm, as well as letting two barges pass by.
              The willows dominate the forest, they have a fur like appearance. The bark has a cork like softness. The mud banks are a multi colored Crayola.

Diary entry from the book {Prometheus Lives} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas

Diary entry from the book {Prometheus Lives} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas

               Wednesday July 19     Tent zipper is broken. Spray skirt clip doesn't hold. Cut my hand open, it is trying to heal. My eyeglasses are cutting into my ears. My right hand is frozen in a permanent grip. I put pressure on my fingers by placing rocks on top of them, and flattening my hand out. I go to sleep every night with large rocks piled on my hands. So what's new with you.
                 I'm around mile marker 786. Strong wind today, heavy wave action. It was a cloudy day but rain never came.
                 Paddled past Barfield Arkansas and a town called Ashport. There may have been a city park at Barfield but couldn't quite tell.
                  The river has been desolate, I am all alone on the river. Since St Louis fishing boats have been sparse, I've only seen two pleasure craft, and three logging operations. Large sand bars that are miles long and wide dot the river. The sand bars have a desert quality to them.
                  Headed for Osceola tomorrow.

Diary entry from the book {Prometheus Lives} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas

Diary entry from the book {Promethuis Lives} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas

             Tuesday July 18    It takes some time to load up the kayak in the morning. Small and large sea bags get loaded forward and back.
             Cloudy and cool today. Went through a wing dam area and at eleven o'clock it started to shower. The rivers flow has picked up, eddies, and little whirlpools are abundant. A yellow tow boat came up river on the Caruthersville side near the  industrial bank. I paddled over to the east bank to stay safe from traffic.
                       The rainstorm picked up to a full gale. I ditched the boat on a shallow sandbar and took a beating from heavy rain and crashing wave action. The rain was hitting my face so hard I couldn't see. I dug my paddle into the sinking sand bar and held on.
           Once the storm had left, the sun came gleaming through. A dredge boat lay up ahead. I wasn't sure where to pass, but I found a point. The corps dredge looks like a steamboat. I shortly pass under Interstate 155 bridge. Soon the sun shrivels away and a storm is above me, it looks like a bigger storm system than before. I shove on looking for a safe place to camp. What looked like a ghost ship was a tow boat relic from the past. Passed by four sitting barges, probably waiting on the dredging operation.
           I find a place to camp on island no. 21. It had a coal stained beach and high sand bank. I had to get up to the island on a fallen tree. The island was like a table land or small tepui. This is another beautiful island and it is keeping me alive.
          A hell of a storm hits at night.

Diary entry from the book {Promethuis Lives} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas

Diary entry from the book {Promethus Lives} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas

          Monday July 17     I leave the joyous island No. 8, I hug the eastern shore. I review the map often. Rock bank protection along shore has been with me since St Louis. The barge traffic was heavy today, with the barges doubling in size, and being pushed by two tugs instead of one at times.
            Took heavy broils, eddies, whirlpools, mostly around bank protection. In some areas I went through backward flow. The creeks are running full force.
             The dominant tree is willow, along with cottonwood, and sycamore. Trumpet vine is covering much of the bank in some areas.
              I am camping in the woods, with rocky bank protection. The sky is burning with a haze in the air. The weather radio says theirs a chance for rain the next three days.

Diary entry from the book {Promethus Lives} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas

Poetry from the book {Prometheus Lives} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas

Andy fell asleep, he was just a boy

His dreams went deeper and deep

Until he died from a fall in one of his dreams

And he couldn't be a cat without it

The rain is sand, a man does stand in a raging storm of cresting water in electric blue haze

Don't go home without your turtle

Mother spilled tomato sauce on his home

And killed him sour grapes sprayed with minox-5

And did you know a cottonwood could grow to a feet so old till the limbs come crashing down

Old men of the sea with Red Lobster bibs on, and crusty beards

You'll see them sitting at the park benches feeding the turtles dill pickles.

Poetry from the book {Prometheus Lives} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas

Poetry from the book {Promethues Lives} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas

Picking sand, picking sand, there goes a man picking sand

The sand is everywhere, in everything

Stand above your head and see

Small man, crossed legs doing the flam beano dance with nigger wings

Take a chance on him babe, and you'll see his thing

Wind wipes the cottonwood clean, pretty white things come falling down

Acorns once on the ground are eaten by a big rat wearing a small hat hiding his brain

Those who know him, love him, those who know him hate him

"But can't we be all the same", said a robin with large breasts

She walked into the grass, the wind stirred butterflies around her

She said hello to the world but know one could hear her

From the grass, there was sand, from the sand  there was water, from the water there was sky

Naked she laid down in the grass and slumbered

The Summers sun came down upon her body

The suns warmth felt good on her skin, she closed her eyes

She dreamed of a good man, but there damn hard to find.

Poetry from the book {Promethius Lives} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas

Poetry from the book {The Lion and the Sun} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas

All them pretty little angels everywhere

One of them is riding in my kayak atop the car with his wings spread out

I bang on the roof and tell him not to make so much god damn noise

I'm back in the car again headed for Duluth

You start seeing pines and aspen on 35 and you know you are alive and close to your destination

Duluth is like a milk and honey whore, the rain comes pissing down to greet me

You never forget the magic bridge and the sailboat floating through the canal

I put the boat in and roller coaster ride to Two Harbors

The lake water seems colder than Munising

The rocks here looks like lava come out of a nuns asshole, it's dark, dangerous, sharp as a knife, with shocking bright yellow lichens hanging on in places

The rock around Gooseberry makes sandstone look like a pillow

If I capsize and hit my head it's game over

Two Harbors is where Rick, Rick the disco dancer lives, ex cop who has the dirty job of arresting people who fuck deer

The boat landings are hard here, the beaches are made up of what looks like crushed brick

I lay out on the beach with a six pack with the sun streaming down

I look like a little baby with a beer bottle hanging out of its lips

Some little girls come over and beat me with sticks and scream and make wracket

One of the girls opens my eye lid and says," yes he's still alive"!

I am paddling to Split Rock Light House

There is a beautiful cove, I didn't know there was an island here

The light house looks like a medieval castle on a cliff

Not many people paddle around its base

I look up at the people as they look down at me

The wind shifts from the Northwest to the South

The wave action builds and I have to fight my way back

In two hours I'm back on the beach, there are no soft landings here

I am alone again with the rain and wind to paddle in a sea of people

I am always paddling.

Poetry from the book {The Lion and the Sun} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas

Poetry from the book {The Lion and the Sun} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas

Pulling a load of kayaks up a flight of stairs like some chimp, or gorilla

Some cute looking chic in a bikini laughs at my burden

She's smart but what a bitch, doesn't lift a finger to help

You have to be a hard core asshole to do this everyday for the chump change

A motherfucker without a dime, and alone in his own little bird cage

The human race sometimes helps or it tries to strip away all dignity and hope {another piece of flesh}

The fat bastard from Big Boys swizels his martini at me

They always leave the boats way short of the stairs

I continue to muscle this yellow fucker up the this sandy kayak worn stairway to the wheels

Darkness sets in and your covered in grime and bugs

This girl tells me I'm nothing but a thug, an animal, that I can't beat the system

But I already have.

Poetry from the book {The Lion and the Sun} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas

Poetry from the book {Promethius Lives} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas

The total cocklebur runs into your nose

It does not know why

Tiny ants pick up a man and carry him away

The sand gets poured into the clock

Why is the answer such justice

Boredom is the time killer

The job is the robber of your soul.

Poetry from the book {Promethius Lives} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas 

Diary entry from the book {Promethuis Lives} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas

Sunday July 16   I've decided to stay on the island for a day. Wildlife is plentiful here. I have traveled far in five days. I walk the sand beach like Robinson Carusoe with bare feet and boonie hat. This would be a good place to live if it didn't flood and the water was pure. There is an ocean out there.

Diary entry from the book {Promethuis Lives} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas

Poetry from the book {Bunny Hop} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas

         Is terrorism the cause or is petroleum

      Is it worth the blood and broken families

      Is it worth another wall of soldiers faces.

Poetry from the book {Bunny Hop} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas

Poetry from the book {The Lion and the Sun} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas

         School is where you learn to be a cog

        A morsel for the mother ship of labor.

Poetry from the book {The Lion and the Sun} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas

Poetry from the book {Bunny Hop} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas

Humanities economic dance

They just want you to suffer

They just want you to suffer

There little bullshit minds

They want you to suffer there criminal conformity

They want you to suffer there tribal romance

They want you to suffer their mediocre dance.

Poetry from the book {Bunny Hop} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas

Poetry from the book {Bunny Hop} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas

School is nothing more than elitism for elitisms sake

Where intelligence is hard to find.

Poetry from the book {Bunny Hop} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas

Poetry from the book {Bunny Hop} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas

                                 America

                 Where the poor get poorer

                        The rich get richer

                     And the middle class

                   Gets fucked in the Ass.

Poetry from the book {Bunny Hop} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas

Poetry from the book {Bunny Hop} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas

I am a creative human being

I am not a business man, or people person, or a salesman

My life and my work only count when I am gone.

Poetry from the book {Bunny Hop} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas

Poetry from the book {Bunny Hop} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas

                            It's all a dime
                            It's all a crime
                               It is a take
                     The money you make
                        The money chase.

Poetry from the book {Bunny Hop} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas

Poetry from the book {Bunny Hop} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas

                        The money is hard

                    The paintings are easy.

Poetry from the book {Bunny Hop} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas

Poetry from the book {Bunny Hop} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas

                        There's nothing here

                               A vacancy

                  A dead industrial mud bank

People in the far away sands throwing their fishing lines in

                   Trying to catch a dream

      They don't realize how good they've got it

                   Sitting on a mud bank

      The light trickling through a river birch

       The grass feels so cool on the fingers

      A barge with a house sitting on top of it

         The house takes up half the barge

The other half is taken up with a green lawn spreading up to its bow

A man in bermuda shorts puffing a pipe happily mows his lawn as the river streams by

The barges talk to him in his sleep.

Poetry from the book {Bunny Hop} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas

Poetry from the book {The Lion and the Sun} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas

                        Sitting by the campfire
    A starry night with satelites and shooting stars
                     This is what life should be
                   Watching the dancing flame
                       This is the best in life
               I keep going, I keep hanging on
                        To that silvery moon.

Poetry from the book {The Lion and the Sun} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas
 

Poetry from the book {The Lion and the Sun} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas

Flying solo again, no friend or foe

No watch or clock to keep an eye on

You can't buy me with your money, though you can try

Pure paddling without the bullshit

Public speaking isn't my forte, god I know

Most the year I'm around four people and next I have an audience of one hundred thirty

Scrutinous human beings with pitchforks, and clubs

I took some advice and tried to visualize some of  them naked, but all I got was boner

People always want you to be something your not

Put a smile on your face so the customer feels free to buy a rotisserie hot dog

It comes with a heated bun.

Poetry from the book {The Lion and the Sun} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas

Poetry from the book {The Lion and the Sun} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas

Watching the sailboats go in, such beauty is the blue and white

The sail takes on the sky

Alone in another city, where all the fun is in the money

It could be Boisie, Duluth, Marquette, Iowa City, there all the same

Anywhere is good if you've got the money

Man paddling a canoe alone against the wind

He makes it to the other side and throws out a fishing line hoping for a dinner

People want to throw their dreams at you, they want to shit on you

There's not a damn thing that I can do, there is no magic wand

Here you live by the lakes rules, the wind is king

A seagull sits on a green bouy patiently waiting for a deal a meal

The flag flutters from the Northwest, an ill wind if it's blowing hard enough

It's no surprise that no one comes back, too many stairs, too many days without a break

There's nothing lower than sitting in a bar all alone

The women stare at you and get prettier as you get more inebriated

Bars are nothing but a con job, but so is the world.

Poetry from the book {The Lion and the Sun} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas

 

Poetry from the book {The Lion and the Sun} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas

Red red pine, Red red pine, all the time

Red red pine, watch you grow, watch you sow

Little kids playing in the cold water of Lake Superior

Women with their boobies hanging out

A sheep dog on the beach licks the sun tan lotion off my legs

Lady says she needs a few squares, they've nailed the outhouse shut

We look at shipwrecks down below as well as horny mermaids and sea monkeys

We pile the kayaks in a layer cake and melt them till they turn into gooey fun flavored bunnies

The tour boats race by, give wakes, and never see anything

A peregrine falcon hits a seagull tears him apart in front of a table of five at the Dogpatch

You do not feed the hungry, you do not feed the mean

The sand consumes the corpses, the ticks and flies eat those that cannot flee in their giant metal boxes with wheels.

Poetry from the book {The Lion and the Sun} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas