Poetry from my sweet friend TJ . . .
My name is TJK Haywood.(Born Thomas Joseph Kiernan, I am a Grandchild of Elizabeth and William A. Kiernan on the paternal side and the Grandchild of Pearl Wells and Sidney Michael Parker on the maternal side).
I chose the name Haywood for my self actually I can’t help feeling like it was chosen for me when I was 15 years old, at that time I had been recently cured of a life threatening Illness and hence a new lease on life was bestowed upon my soul. A metamorphosis was about to happen. I, not so coincidently fell deeply in love with a woman who’s last name is Hagood at one time in my life. However I have no offsping and the mere possibility of myself spawning with a loved one is pivotally dependent on the survival of the honey bee.
(All Food sources on Earth are endangered as of 2008 in my assessment).
I am also known as Wooden Thomas as a songwriter and Guitar player, I can not sing correctly or keep a steady rhythm, my spelling is so bad that I have to type to you all on a machine that automaticly corrects my spelling for me as I go along, andfir this I am thankfull , because I am one lazy son of a bitch! (I do use the pen nib and the India ink though ,often but mostly for drawing). I can’t live with out creating.
The year as you read this is 1708. Some of you may be receiving this letter while working in a vegetable garden, others may be receiving this while breaking for lunch or tea, some of you Irish folks are probably drinking vodka at the pub with the milk of teets dryed on your hands right early in the morning busting jokes about Queen Anne http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Anne_of_Great_Britain . Or maybe you are just waking up, if so, go back to sleep. This letter is going directly into your subconscious anyway and you’ll never remember it.
Your fantasies of the “New World” are noble and understandable.
But I must tell you, the Indians you will encounter here are not mere savages they are tribes of intelligent humans who are understandably angry that they will be invaded by you white folks.
I am a man who serves Peace. Peace is my lord . Even when it is difficult to do so I serve Peace. I listen to what Peace has to say, I try to filter out the anger and the distain, even though I fail at being 100 percent Peacful. I will always let Peace prevail for it is my lord.
I do not worship Jesus of Nazareth . I admire him. I do not worship the Buddha of Asia, although I am a fan of his. Mother Mary and others whom you , my ancestors have not yet heard of, Mahatma Gandhi and Mother Teresa, Martin Luther King Jr , Dennis Kucinich these are people whom share my religion.
There is a Song Written by another decendant of The Drake Family circa 1970. The song is a beautiful song called Time Has Told Me his name was Nick Drake. My great Grand Parents were Drakes from the same area his family is from, Tanworth in Arden. I will conclude this letter with the lyrics of this beautiful song for he, like me, is your descendent.
Times will be tough for all of you. But never give up your hopes and dreams because the enjoyment of life is the goal. To party and bond and learn and create break bread and break wind and help others to do so too are the goals.
Many of you, I know very little about. Some of you, from England will have arrived in Brooklyn USA within the next century . All of the Irish relatives, on my paternal side will find home in New Jersey. Do me a favor and keep Brooklyn and New Jersey beautiful , for too much industrialization causes environ-MENTAL Pollution.
The photograph may not have been invented yet, but I have seen a painting of Queen Anne on Wikipedia and Man was she a hot number!
I wish to be with you all one gorgeous and rainy day in a pub, one where people dine as families, where men throw darts and children learn how to drink and smoke.
All the working and dreaming and playing that I imagine you do will survive in my DNA , that is to say my blood, and my subconscious mind , that is to say the deeper streams and rivers and oceans of my brain where dreams come from.
Take good care of each other and Thank You for Fornicating.
TJK Haywood, (Wooden Thomas).
Time Has Told Me
by Nick Drake:
Time has told me. You’re a rare rare find. A troubled cure. For a troubled mind. And time has told me. Not to ask for more. Someday our ocean. Will find its shore.
So I`ll leave the ways that are making me be. What I really don’t want to be. Leave the ways that are making me love. What I really don’t want to love. Time has told me. You came with the dawn. A soul with no footprint. A rose with no thorn. Your tears they tell me. There’s really no way. Of ending your troubles. With things you can say. And time will tell you. To stay by my side. To keep on trying’til there’s no more to hide. So leave the ways that are making you be. What you really don’t want to be. Leave the ways that are making you love. What you really don’t want to love. Time has told me. You’re a rare rare find. A troubled cure. For a troubled mind. And time has told me. Not to ask for more. For some day our ocean. Will find its shore.