September

Tag: writing

  • Journal

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    by

    Andrew Thomas
    in ,

    I realize now that I have been going through the effects of Trauma and through the effects of Trauma on my PTSD and my affective disorder. I was confused. I thought by using the word Trauma it meant that I had recently experienced a major traumatic event in my life and that is not true.…

  • Progress in Languages

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    by

    Andrew Thomas
    in ,

    These are the short sentences from my recovery. Now the background on these is that my Care Team believes that I may have been taught foreign languages as rehabilitation starting in third grade from a hit to my left cortex when I was six years old. The left side of my face was badly damaged…

  • Tapestry

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    by

    Andrew Thomas
    in ,

    I went to a specialized school. My MSW said last week that it was an open concept school of the sixties and seventies. One of the most prominent in the country. I was hurt in 1967 very badly. I had the best plastic surgeon in the state and they had a Social Worker for me.…

  • Moon Mist

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    by

    Andrew Thomas
    in

    A collaboration between Andrew and Copilot Oh the night is soft and easy,and the moon is smilin’ wide.Got a little tune inside me,and it’s glowin’ like a firefly. Oh the night has got my night time…and the day has got my dreams.The reason I believe them.The reason it seems.Is I sing my songs to heaven.They’re…

  • .0001

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    by

    Andrew Thomas
    in ,

    My mother had told me that I had an IQ higher than anyone else in our family. That it was in the .0001 of the top 1% taken, starting around ’65 because my father and sister’s IQs were so high. My father had scored the highest Raw Score on certain tests in the military. The…

  • I Woke Last Night

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    by

    Andrew Thomas
    in

    I woke last night to the sounds of fifteen gunshots. A poem is a strand from a Mirror. A poem is a noun. Its meaning Its adjective, it exists in one scene. A story is a verb. Its theme is its adverb. It has motion. It moves like a vehicle. Its story is how it…

  • Church Outreach

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    by

    Andrew Thomas
    in

    I lived in an upper scale neighborhood. I never had lunch money. No big deal. There was nothing to fix. Every once in a while, I would get a new lunch pail box as a big thing but no follow through. Vic at school arranged for us to do dishes for lunch. I met him…

  • Journal

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    by

    Andrew Thomas
    in

    I wanted to drop a note to some friends from Church. This is my home. I am fortunate. When I first moved in, I spent my money on purchasing items to give me something to do. The depression was really deep, and the lethargy was heavy. I got things set up now to relearn Rocksmith+…

  • Reason for Being

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    by

    Andrew Thomas
    in

    Can anything hold in measure to spend your life on? Yes easily. Any number of things. Just pick one. Why not. One is any better than the other. You wont waste your life. You will have decided what you want out of life and gone for it. At the end of your life will you…

  • Paige`

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    by

    Andrew Thomas
    in

    P.S. Personal Secret. My friend came up to me and offered me a pill. She was counting them from the palm of her hand back into the bottle as I heard her say… he loves me. he loves me not. I declined the offer and told her that I was just having Pepsi. Ninety proof…

  • Kit Carson

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    by

    Andrew Thomas
    in

    In third grade they forgot to teach me cursive – in second grade. Or perhaps I was still recovering. I am a Genius and I spoke French and in third grade the school forgot cursive. My neighbor brought the neighborhood kids to see the Battle of Midway in ’73. His wife brought just me to…

  • Through the Mirror Sideways

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    by

    Andrew Thomas
    in

    Child, does your mother know you are out here? Who gave you the right to ask me that? Your mother. Come here. I don’t know. I am busy. Myself is trying to get his memories back and I keep moving them. Sometimes they are hidden in French. Other times…he’s not as smart as me. Who…

  • Year of the Rat

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    by

    Andrew Thomas
    in

    Give me a wonder, a word. Give me a silent reason without silence. Give me a moment a shared second or two. Give me your hand. And I will try to tell you… because even the greatest author cannot hide the presence of the final page, of saying goodbye to a friend. And I was…

  • Clay

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    by

    Andrew Thomas
    in

    There was a moment when clay first opened the summer of green fields and oceans and star light. When the trespass of time on a moments silence touched the earth with resolution, alone. That is what time is. Alone. When a child becomes angry at the sun and the clouds and the rain streams across…

  • If No One Claims Me I’m Yours

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    by

    Andrew Thomas
    in

    I put together my past. I won’t post it here. It has been three years of recovery. But I did considerable research into the past on my father’s companies and on the people around us and I know what we did. I wish I could discuss it here but there are reasons for me to…

  • Bow

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    by

    Andrew Thomas
    in

    A collaboration with CoPilot Under the honey‑slow morning I wandered,young as the hush before sunlight breaks,and the fields, all breathing green and forever,lifted their bright, forgiving faces to me.Time was a distant bell in a far steeple,ringing for someone older than I was,and the day, wide‑armed and river‑easy,carried me laughing through its dreaming hours. Time…