To whom it may concern:

I’m sure you have a million questions running through your mind, much like I did before making this decision. I’m sure that deep down inside, you are hurting, just like I was. You may never forgive me for what I did, but just know, I held on for too long. This wasn’t a decision that I made on impact because I was having a bad day. It had me thinking for quite some time and I finally came up with what I thought was best. I was tired of waking up every morning and faking my smile. I was tired of waking up with swollen eyes from crying myself to sleep. I was tired of constantly washing my pillow case from all the mascara marks that had appeared from crying myself to sleep. I was tired of telling you that nothing was wrong and that it wasn’t your fault. All that had been a lie. Everything was wrong. And it was your entire fault.

Sincerely, I’m sure you know by now.*

Imagine waking up and finding that note lying on the soft white sheets next to you. Imagine the thoughts that ran through my mind. Imagine seeing the blade covered in blood on the nightstand that belonged to your girlfriend. Imagine my heart start racing.

I looked around the room. All was quiet like any other normal Sunday morning. But instead of waking up next to Sutton, I woke up to the note that had replaced her.

Sutton had a history of depression and had cheated death only twice as far as I knew, so upon finding the note, I almost had a heart attack. She’d been released from the psychiatric hospital about a month ago. The doctors thought she was better, everyone thought she was better. Whenever I went to visit her after work, she’d seemed happy to see me. I noticed her face light up several times. I’d hold her hand, just to make sure she hadn’t cut herself again since the last time I’d been there. And as far as I could tell and see, she’d been clean. So a month later, when I got the call that I could go pick her up, I was more than thrilled.

After picking her up, we had gone out to lunch, and spent the day together. We walked around the lake, holding hands, talking about what each other had missed. I fell even more in love with her, as if I didn’t think it was possible. She was back to the girl who I’d fallen in love with my senior year of high school. Happy, smiling, enjoying herself, just the way I liked her.

I threw the covers off of me.

“Sutton.” I whispered at first. Then, realizing she wouldn’t hear me, I said it louder. “Sutton.”

I swung my legs over the side of the bed, and got up. I went to the bathroom where the door was closed and pressed my ear against it. It was silent and I didn’t think she was in there. I tried the ****, but it was locked, proving my previous assumption had been wrong.

“Sutton.” I said into the door. “Sutton, are you okay?”

There was no answer and my heart started pounding even louder.

“Sutton.”

I went back over to the nightstand by our bed and opened my wallet, retrieving a credit card from one of the many slots. My dad had shown me this trick when I had been just a little boy. Taking the card back over to the door, I slid it through the lock on the door and heard the latch move, allowing me to twist the **** and open the door. Sutton was sitting on the side of the edge of the bathtub with her head in her hands.

“Sutton.” I whispered, opening the door wider.

She continued to remain silent.

I went and knelt in front of her. Trying to look up into her eyes, but they were closed. I reached forward to take her hands in mine and she pulled them closer to her.

“Sutton, don’t push me away.” I whispered. “What’s wrong?”

She shrugged her shoulders and shook her head the slightest bit.

“I can’t help, if you don’t talk to me.” I whispered.

She sniffled a couple times, and wiped some fresh tears away from her eyes. I took my hands slowly towards her again, and when she didn’t pull away, I softly grabbed them and held them in mine. I squeezed a little tighter and pulled her gently into my lap, wrapping my arms around her.

“Talk to me.” I whispered before I placed my lips on her forehead. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“It’s hard to say what’s wrong when nothing is right.” She whispered.

I squeezed her tighter and started rocking her back and forth. After a couple minutes, I pulled her arm away from my chest and examined her wrist, where I discovered fresh blood from cuts that would soon turn to scars. I tilted her chin up, making her look at me. Her eyes started watering from tears that would soon begin to pour. I wrapped my arms tight around her and pulled her close to me, as I heard her begin sobbing. Rocking her back and forth, I rubbed her back.

“I need help.” She whispered into my chest.

“Shh. I know. It’s okay.”

Strangers in every day clothes continued walking back and forth in front of me, as I sat in the most uncomfortable chair there could possibly be, with my head bent in my hands like Sutton had been that day. Holding back tears turned out to be harder than what I thought. We had stood at the front desk, preparing to check her in, when she had suddenly had a change of heart.

“This is a mistake.” She said.

I looked at her, “What do you mean?”

“I don’t need this.”

“Sutton, you wanted this.” I said, “it was your idea. Remember?”

“But, I don’t want it anymore.”

“Why?” I asked.

“I just don’t.”

“Well, that’s not a good enough reason.” I explained.

“Please, don’t make me stay here.” She pleaded some more.

“I’m sorry, Sutton.” I said.

“If you love me, you won’t make me stay.”

“No, if I love you, I’ll do just that.” I explained. “You’re not healthy. You need this. It’s not permanent. You won’t be here forever. Just until you get better.”

“So you’re saying there’s something wrong with me?”

Playing the guilt trip had always been something she was good at. She had me wrapped around her skinny little fingers because I was so head over heels in love with her, but there was no way she was getting out of this one.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

“No denial.”

“Sutton. Stop. I love you.” I said. “I’m doing this because I love you.”

“No, you’re doing this because I’m broken.”

Frank Sutton was an actor who died half a century ago.
He starred in one episode of "The Andy Griffith Show".
He starred in every episode of "Gomer Pyle: USMC".
Sutton died fifty years ago today at the age of fifty.
People were sad because he wouldn't be coming back.
Sutton's life came to an end when he had a heart attack.
He starred in "The Twilight Zone" and "Town Without Pity".
He starred in "Armstrong Circle Theater" and "Naked City".
He starred in "Love, American Style" and "Valentine's Day".
Sutton would be 100 years old if he hadn't passed away.

Heaven Sutton was a little girl
of Chicago’s poor west side.
There turf wars rage
where rival gangs
Use bullets to decide.

A child of seven shouldn’t
Have to fear to walk the streets.
A poor mother shouldn’t
Have to buy a dress
for her forever sleep.

Heaven Sutton was gunned down
by a bullet gone astray.
Now mother’s keep their kids close by
afraid to let them play.

Should lawmen sweep the streets of
Guns?
Society must decide.
But on these streets no child is safe
Since the night that Heaven died.

Heaven Sutton, aged 7, was victim #251 of Chicago's "tough" anti Gun laws since the beginning of the year.

The cemetery was my circus I found
After outgrowing fantasy and the playground.
Golden afternoons in the country after school,
My blood having no resemblance, no ancestors,
To all the Sutton's and Smotherman's and Suddeth's
Who here resided with Tennessee pride. Inside and outside.
The still silence of my childhood cemetery carried an eerie air. I wanted to be here.
The peaceful calm, it called me back,
The king cawing crow, attending in black.
As for any of the lost, perhaps content, Confederate souls,
Who have yet to cross over, lamenting or dozed.
I suspect now, that it was I who startled those ghosts.
My blood, my frequency, my scent of the coast,
Sent from a Union ancestry my vibration still boasts...
How unexpected was I to those Tennessee ghosts.

There once was such a love,
A love blogged, out by one so ill,
Stephen you were a hero,
May you rest in easy peace,
Brave up until the very end,
Stephen Sutton, people's friend.
Pray  let the money that you so bravely raised,
Help to see  violence of cancer erased, obliterated, annihilated.
May death give you  blessed rest.
Night night!
(C) Livvi

Every likker batch was his last,
including the carbon monoxide.

The moon dazzled me last night,
As I woke from dreams of Saxon warriors.
Swords and shores helmed deep
Across the years.
A ship sunk In a low east hill
A helmet turns with the lunar tide.

Bodies and bone turned to sand
Empty caskets blank to the starry sky,
Warriors, lovers, beholders
Slip into their Earth.

A graveyard of ship sails and men
The tongue of a dragon whispers
And calls them from the depths
Of the river
To clear water on the other side.

The dragonflies and meadow-sweet
Follow the banks of ‘The Wandle’
Allowing what is hidden and not heard
Behind posted iron railings
To be noted, found on a map, imagined
Its very name conjures up the river’s journey
Drawing one into its currents and flows
A place of beauty where time seems slow
Rippling the edges of thought, living as a space,
Exploration, given  by inclusion and exclusion
Forever to ‘wandle along’ under the sky
Between the gaps in the real
And what finds itself from what
Came before in experience and words.

Love Mary x
The River Wandle is the largest river of the south southwest sector of London, England. Its name is thought to derive from the community around its mouth, Wandsworth. About 9 miles long, it passes through the London Boroughs of Croydon, Sutton, Merton, and Wandsworth to join the River Thames on the Tideway..
Mouth: River Thamesnn

WE ARE THE CHILDREN OF GOD ,,

And as such ,,,
This well could actually be our
elementary schooling ,

In classroom earth we've just not long moved in
To start our years of learning~
Others have been here for their time
As they for knowledge we are yearning~
We've found a lot of mysteries here
Ones that this time we cannot explain~
But we will have the answers when
We've done our years of rein~
Its said in scrolls and the many bibles of God
Gods day is a thousand years to our day one~
So we've only been here six days yet
According to the teachings now of some~
But the ages of this classroom earth
Go back before our knowledge and our knowing
Many different races , species , and gifts of God
Have been in this classroom longer than winds blowing
Our past loves ones spent time in classroom earth
They learned in their way as we've to do~
Then too moved on to yet another higher class
To see the rest of their schooling through~
One by one they've all left this class
As one by one we as well eventually will do~
And one by one this time around
We like them will go to higher classes too~
We wont need or use our bodies there at all
Just our intellect and love~
Lots of positive loving imagination as well
And always help from God both around us and above~

Terrence Michael Sutton
copyright 1978

Theres an original Aussie lingo
That out there one can hear~
Most of all when you are in the country
And places like that you love so dear~
RIPPA RITA , An aussie bush expression of rejoice~
When something really goes so well
And usually not by choice~
FAIR DINKUM means simply for real
Are you fair dinkum mate~
STRUTH another real Aussie expression
A bush word for something that you hate~
Just a few words of real Aussie lingo
You might hear now and again~
SEND HER DOWN HUGHY they'll cry
When they reall do need rain~
STONE THE CROWS you'll hear them yell
When something happens by surprise~
Often in the country
When they can't believe their eyes~
HOWZ ZAT a bloke will often call out
when he manages to do something better than right~
And very indeed proud of himself
Without trying to skite~
RIGHTIO dad will call out to mum
When she hollows don't forget to get the bread~
TOO FLAMEN RIGHT he'll say back to her
When she says well ... did ja get it ted~
YA GREAT GALLOOT is what they'll call you
When you do something really wrong~
So much original Aussie lingo
They should put it all within a song~
SHIELA'S are of course suingle women
Who often are as well called BIRDS~
All this fantastic Aussie terminology
How I miss all these words~
Ocker's are usually blokes in shorts and thongs
They call thongs Japanese riding boots~
CODJA'S are older blokes
Sometimes they call them COOT'S~
COCKIES are blokes that own properties
STRIKEN A BLOW is a term for work~
BLUDGERS are those that don't like do do it
And being lazy is to of course SHIRK~
All that age old aussie lingo
I miss it so I do~
Can't wait to say HOWZ YA GOEN MATE
And G DAY to a mate or two~
It's all got a sound of it's own
One gets used to it in life~
Like the LITTLE WOMEN and THE BETTER HALF
Is what they call a wife a wife~

( Was'nt game to use spell check lol )

https://youtu.be/PT331BRkkP0

Terrence Michael Sutton
Copyright 2018

Felt gospels, locally hand-stitched, hang from the necks
Of the white stone columns. Seven in total.
Wandering eyes have read them all a hundred times.
Each one belongs to a name and number.
The mass assemble on the ground floor.
The circle tiers are near-empty,
They keep their coats on.
I wonder if they are closer to G-d.
The bald island only visible to them,
The vicar’s pure white hair.
Pews are formidable with adults, Sunday best,
A silence dark with giggles, the stained glass
Shone a rainbow of torture, ******,
And I did not know what we were all there for.

Christ hung beneath a turquoise sun, kaleidoscopic agony
Etched on his straight white face. You could play a tune
On his ribs. The vicar stood bored at the platform;
glory in monotone.

Finally, we rose to song.

The adults stood tall, autogenic. I became lost in corn stalks,
Wind of reverence, spirit, mass delusion.
Everyone seems to sway. Some close their eyes. A few
Hold a hand to the sky. A grown man is dancing in the main aisle.
He is making a mockery of himself
And the adults do not stop him. Do not scald him
Or tell him to keep quiet.
The grown man seems to notice no one.
I wonder if he is the closest to G-d.

Water near-boils in black pipes, the wind outside
Seems to find its way to my chest. I choke myself.
Leave our scarves on the burning metal.
No instrumentation! Menace. I mime the words.
Cut my eye teeth climbing garage roofs,
Stole a turnip from Mr. Sutton’s patch -
The air is too holy here. Hypnotic. I cannot breathe.
A football shirt. A pair of jeans. The singing stops.
Prayer begins. The vicar drones, we answer back.
Repeat after me, repeat after me. He is talking
About next week, the order of service,
His out-of-hours devotion, our spiritual homework.
Dismissed, the mass push angrily to the doors.
Quick to their cars,
We always stayed behind. Slow, slow.

My parents led me to the pulpit. The vicar was smiling,
My name was on his list. I wondered if I was getting
The eighth felt gospel..
“You are to be confirmed.”
“Okay.”
I did not know what confirmed meant.
I did not know what submergence was.
The vicar took my hands. I puzzled at his dog collar,
His snap-necklace. My parents stood in the periphery,
The cheap seats; a happy occupation,
A successful operation.

I was to be new again.

“...and let the Holy Spirit pass through Edward,
And help to guide him through inevitable trials.”

My arms were shaking like a tuning peg.
I was a filament, quivering, giving myself away,
Flashbulb memories of disgrace. He must know.
“That’s the spirit of the Lord inside of you,
That’s why you are shaking.
It is working brilliantly.”
The vicar put his palm to my forehead.
Pores magnified, barbs descended from his nostrils,
His overgrown eyebrows. His holiness. His age.
He did not smile with his eyes.

I was handed back to my parents.
They looked pleased with themselves. Did I pass the test?
I looked up.
The ceiling was impassable.
There had been no breakthrough.

Drove past the hospital. Asleep in the passenger seat.
Surgery on my soul. Clean, clean.
There was static on the radio.
The shaking had stopped.

I never really liked gardening before
But I needed to fix up the one down back
It was getting like an empty space
Behing my appartment on a track

I'm only young so much to be done
And an old gardener saw me there
Came over and said need a hand
Goodness yes as I pinned back my hair

Wasn't long and I loved gardening so
Older gardeners they really do know
How to get it all as I'd dreamed some
And how to make it beautiful and grow

Now I'm in that garden every chance
And when he sees me he will call around
I have a secret or two just how it all grew
Among my lemon grass upon the ground

terrence michael sutton
copyright 2018

Working on a large sheep prperty once
On days not much doing way out dig cactus
One day doing just this I caught a flash
Owner on his old horse up a hill for practice

Watching me the old coot he was that day
To see if I on my own  was doing my work
The sun sent me a flash from his binoculars
The old guy was an untrusting kind of ****

Just below me a soil erosion twent feet deep
That ran for about a real good mile away
I rode down and right up it for a mile
And right up behind him fifty tards I say

******* my horse sat under a big old tree
Rolled myself a smoke and watched him
Looking all over away down there was he
Chances finding me down there were slim

He was getting so frustrated binoculars too
Where the hell did that bloke go he said
Looking all about for me that day was he
I just smiled rolled another smoke instead

Him standing in his old half worn saddle
Where the hell did that bloke I ask go
I'll be having a real good talk to him later
Can't trust anyone I said nows a good ya know

http://i197.photobucket.com/albums/aa290/tracymay27/CowboyCampFire.jpg

terrence michael sutton
copyright 2018

After Pamela Sutton’s “Forty”

Since when are words lost, numbers dominating?
Until today, it was vernacular, not mathematics.
All changed at 18
when numbers engulfed my life like a tsunami.
1 life.
1 drive to school, traffic on the 405, 25 minutes;
10-minute parking; first class at 8.
8 dollars per hour x 3 day work week = no shopping.
Under my parents’ life insurance,
for now.
One life.
One dream of commencement, a sea of black and gold;
students as adults, graduating, growing up,
careers: the only things that matter now.
One dream of wheeling a patient into the OR
and he grasps my hand.
One saved life.
66 specialties for a nurse.
8 stories in CHOC Hospital;
279 beds.
One goal for everyone; nurses, patients, families—
disease-free, healthy.
One hospital specializing in children;
one in Orange, thousands of facilities.
One late night in Riverside the kitchen fluorescents
slowly brings the eyes of two, one father, one daughter,
to a close.
58 notecards, handwriting messy and smudged.
12 prefixes, 37 roots, 9 suffixes.
44 years: 1 student: Dad.
The point where my future was clear.
One goal, one career,
one life.
The subtle hum of the white lights lulls us to sleep
as the room slowly darkens.

September 2013

https://youtu.be/rjkrjYitgeA

All that and more ..

terrence michael sutton
copyright 2018

I offer a few quiet
words under my breath. (1)

“I wish you a tongue
scalded by tea.”(2)
“I was born
of the fist. The hot Irish
Temper.”(3) “I am a master of Escape. Show me a body,
I’ll show you an exit ramp.”(4)

(For,) I want everything
to call me night.(5)

This is the dream where I play
God. And the front door opens(6)
In lakes, floating
logs ignite, burn. All the
fury is finally here:(7)

Once wayfaring strangers(8) as tall as steal as the New York Times(9)
that once they sang from our dark street (10), the song goes: Heart.

Ribcage. Envelope.(11)

______

(1) Adam Falkner, Poem for the Lovers at Pickerel Lake, http://friggmagazine.com/issuethirtysix/poetry/falkner/pickerel.htm

(2) Jeanann Verlee, Guilt, Not Grief, http://www.wordriot.org/archives/4780

(3) Jeanann Verlee, The Brawler, http://www.radiuslit.org/2011/04/09/radius-roger-bonair-agard-jeanann-verlee-adam-falkner/

(4) Joanna Hoffman, On Learning to Open My Eyes, http://www.pankmagazine.com/three-poems-37/

(5) Kallie Falandays, If Morning Never Comes, http://www.pankmagazine.com/two-poems-75/

(6) Benjamin Sutton, Notes from the Daydreaming, http://anti-poetry.com/anti/suttonbe/

(7) Jenny Sadre-Orafai, Treasure In Timber, http://www.pankmagazine.com/two-poems-74/

(8) Lauren Yates, The World According to My Heart, http://usedfurniturereview.com/2013/03/20/the-world-according-to-my-heart-by-lauren-yates/

(9) Robert Gibbons, These Mean Streets, http://www.poembeat.com/fall2011/RobertGibbons.html

(10) Michael Lauchlan, Unseen Larks and Immeasurable Intervals, http://www.thrushpoetryjournal.com/march-2013-michael-lauchlan.html

(11) Leigh Philips, Dear New York City, Learn Gentle, http://www.thrushpoetryjournal.com/march-2013-leigh-phillips.html

(*) Jeanann Verlee, Good Girl, http://www.thrushpoetryjournal.com/january-2013-jeanann-verlee.html

EG TEN /V.S/ BLitZ3D

ROUND 1

EG TEN
For the second time around, I won't be too gentle.// You turds can't rhyme for *****, soft as a noodle.// Get rid of that shirt, Wordman, do us a favor.// It ain't bad at all, its just, one size too little.// Ill break you fools in half, straw snapping like a scarecrow// Cowardly lion come out, Monster Smashed you innuendo.// The reason why you got passed by the first time around// Like a girl post some pix up, cut my **** in half, now u goin down// You and Wordman teams up, who cares! a pair of freakin clowns//

BLitZ3D
let um start off first, either way ur a representation of a man in a hearse /hurt um real bad n rubbed his face in the dirt/the pics that I posted was just a ***** in a skirt/sskkirrt! on this *****, like who you ****** with nerd?/ that's a ****** sweater what u talkin bout shirt?/ an what exactly do you think you rhymed off ****?/ ******* from the start, pulled out and drove straight into the curb/ Asian drivers man, they'll never ****** learn/ a coward vs a lion I guess my warning wasn't herd/ why'd you delete the first battle? you coulda reread my words/ then you'd probly remember to go again would be absurd/ but everyone loves a under dog, makes emotion go reverse/ cause then when you go under dog , the wears not even worse/ an no one teamed up on you,/ I tagged in and hulk Hogan lumped a few/ American Dream, elbow jumped at you,/ then to your defense, in ran gorilla monsoon/ the way I see it, the joker popped both of you,/ a heist on ur thread but that's just my point of view./ sights locked retical red, not a sound with the front mount/ knights drop, clown with a crown, and a jester in bed./ leave um slumped out/ /roar/ I messed with his head/ take my advice and this cypher ...just jump out

Round 2

EG TEN
Let um start off first? Now what the **** was that?// Your no king of the jungle, but a little ***** cat!// A blissful of zits in your face a sign disgusting// BlitZed does not show off his face an ugly duckling// My rhyme is in verse, so fresh with multiple gears on my Hearse// You can't spit for *****, so your *** be going in reverse// A fan of hulkamania? That **** ain't real brotha!.// I bet your next line would be "Hakuna Matata!// You ain't no **** Mufasa, your like that fool Scar hangin out With them ugly *** Hyena// I laugh at you BlitZed, I ******, I flip the script with my skills// Your elbow dropped not fast enough a straight kick up your chest!// This is SPARTA!!!! So jump on out! off to the next round// Welcome to the Writer's Creed, A true MC battleground!//

BLitZ3D
if this is Sparta then ***** I'm Gannicus,/ two swords in my hand while u attack with some shallow ****/ your **** right I'm scar and ull still bow down to this/ u wont get to far hyenas surround in the mist/ Hakuna Matata but theres reason to worry kid/ shoot um point blank an laugh as he say the dots are blury miss/ from his stomach out leaks guts an curry strips/ no lines to connect, his souls in a hurry, drips,/ out his mouth like his mom as she dines in nutty bliss/ bust um quick like his dad, his sister we both miss/ a cute little thing, deaf dumb n blind, snitch/ I think not, i broke her fingers, a tight grip/ dropped her leg and screamed Hogan wins/ layed on top of her and counted to three/ donkey punched that ***** in the head an continued to proceed/ so ask her how much I give a **** about writers creed //

ROUND 3

EG TEN
You claim to be a Marvel-Super-Villain-God-Like / If you are Galactus" I'm Lactose - Bacilli / Fermented like Lactic Acids what I spit!/ A genus of original but your just a make belief/ BlitZed please! step it ^ up a bit higher/ Your dealing with an oldskool underground ****** / None of that Kindergarten *****' of entry level / My words may be shallow but yet sharp as a Razor / Your write- wrist slice the veins blood burst just like a geyser / My word plays undefeated so try a little Monster / I sMashed your Baked Potatoe with chives a little butter / On side some bits of bacon a Cub is now a Lion / If you don't understand, im at work im eating Lunch / Im on break and wasted half of my time you little punk/ But its cool It's all in fun and that's what its all about / In a place full of infected A cesspool full of talent / Respect to my opponent a true Warrior of Poets / A Monster Mash Creator, A Master of Salvation / The bad *** Mr. BlitZed, Will continue this ***** later-/ Here at Writer's Creed, or where ever else you pleased/

BLitZ3D
A mutant, a radioactive contusion./My ***, gave it gas, now im ******* moving./Onto the end, the finish line, a ******* shoe in./Im new an, your old news, news i knew and /screws im loosing, as we pretend this battle im loosing, wrap it up with a few loose ends, /confusing, a thriving city, up an left it in ruins./Black cloaked, hooded druid, IV fluids, /Gat broke, firing pin, out i chewed it, trigger squeezed now, told you id do it./Ten teeth marks on the barrel, yea EG blew it./Face on some blue ****, stiff Elmers glue tip, /sticky grip, stick um up, Richy Rich, Jackson upper cuts, a Rampage, no *****./Bomb on the stage, chickens with no cluck./Took a bomb on stage, chicken heads, my ***** well ******./Salmonella poisoning, chocked the chicken, she likes it real rough. /In an out, left and right, my blade keeps the feathers well plucked. /Goose and a swan, I recognize no duck, bad luck, body covered up in the back of the truck./One G, no UN, i see, just me..no pun./Mission complete, no fun, grey skies, trust me, no sun.. rains not done. /Bars run from bars, bring the heavens down from the stars, impacts bombard/even from behind bars locked cars explode far, gorilla tactics, no holds bared, reload the AR/Re-roll a new cigar, as i retold, another page from Scar/12 bubbles Gage the contents of this unmarked mason jar./I know your popping some corny something, but i wasn't listening./Busy kicking it with Popcorn Sutton, drinking an smoking **** in the kitchen./These lines must be glitching, space-time the fabrics ripping./Physics are ******, i need a new physician./Watch as my feet move, roots grew planted in a quantum position./Like Groot, stomp um like a twig, raging tunnel vision./A ton of incisions, a gun mixed with questionable decisions. /A life for a life, changes nothing, for both sides the death penalty still glistens./the only difference is the same as this blunt. *****, BLitZ3D is still hitting. /Next time i roar a warning make sure you ******* listen... /
battle?
Im already bored with you
.....
I pulled a gun
And a sword you drew

A poet writes of life as they know it to be
Of things that matter so to them~
They share their thoughts and feelings so
Of future' Their now ' Away back when~
Positivity in every way although
Life has in reality it's up's and down's~
If one does not see life as it is
Within some fantassy world so many drown~
Life for the most created now by man alone
The life we know today it's true~
The life the poet now sees in reality
Has mans touch all of the way through~
But as well a poet tries to see all the flowers
And the love that is still to be found~
Nature and all of Gods gifts to us
And good loving hearts and souls around~
At those that look deeply within a soul
Regardless of colour and or race~
At all of Gods own children
And at our one planet here in space~
A poet feels the very pain
As they as well feel the joy~
And the love of all upon earth
Of every born girl and boy~

Terrence Michael Sutton
Copyright ( Originally 2007 ) 2018

We two sitting out upon the verandah
On a Sunday late may cooler afternoon
And you were knitting clicking away
As I sat enjoying a port when very soon

Two birds so high away up in the blue sky
I stopped and turned around looking at you
You looking over your glasses saying .. what
You waiting for my answer a puzzled true

I said  look at those two birds away up there
Side by side of how they together as one fly
Both in the very same direction perfectly
And they are only birds will be till they die

You and I can't agree on anything at all
Try to do so we do so every other single day
Since I married you down the street its true
We spend most of conversation arguing I say

They are only birds and always flying as one
Regardless of the weather come what may
And here we are a supposed inteligent species
Yet we argue over everything every single day

terrence michael sutton    
copyright  2018

Planting a tree is a good thing
But remember it must survive on it's own-
Planting a small grove of two or three
Each one helps the other till grown-

When and if one happens to suffer
The others drop leaves and water too-
Watering roots and providing shade
Helping the others to make it through-

Trees provide air upon our earth
Without them we'er in trouble true-
Planting a small grove of trees
Is a more than wonderful thing to do-

Down in a corner not used much
Down by a river away-
A small grove of trees provide shelter
For birds and wild life every day-

One third they say of our earths air
Comes from forests away they cut all the time-
Planting a tree I'm sure you'll agree
Is a way to help all far down the line-

Terrence Michael Sutton
copyright 2018 ( First written years ago ) ..

If one day my pen became a brush
Oh how I'd paint so well for you~
I do love so as well in life to paint
But can't seem to do it here it's true~
I'd paint for you the mountains and the trees
The cloud formations , sandy beaches long~
I'd paint my true love , and all above
With colors pastel and so gently strong~
Such scenes of care beyond compare
How I'd paint the sun and as well the moon~
If my pen was to become but a brush
I'd paint dew drops on a red balloon~
Rays of sunshine wet on roses
Butterflies in flight~
If my pen was but a brush
How I'd paint as well as write~
If my pen became a brush its true
I'd even paint your smile~
I'd paint how I feel about just you
And how I'd do so with such style~
If my pen became a brush
I'd paint the whole world for you~
And if my pen became a brush
I'd paint of my love for you so true~

Terrence Michael Sutton
Copyright 2018

I've learned all teachers of life taught me
I have always walked a strictest lin
Did all those who are my equals said to
And might I say did them better more so fine

But before my soul decided another lesson
To be born to free to be the captain of my soul
Way over time I researched few things sublime
And listenened to this very own soul of mine

Who gave any the right to instruct their way
Upon my soul since it became myself long ago
Its time I let go and its  time I flew to feelings new
Its time I listened to my souls experience to know

Time I undressed time I confessed its simplytime
That I took over inmy own souls fields of clover true
Well over time I ignored their oh so holy advice
Loved life more hell to heaven all things old and new

Time for a time I knew moments so fine ever sublime
Time I undressed confessed and by passed this mess
Well over time I loved more this soul of mine
And with a likwise thinker spent time and flew

(( I'VE  NEVER  BEEN  TO  ME  ))

terrence michael sutton
copyright  2018

Endless souls we know from go to woe
Sometimes theres a few that will never know~
All souls are born and live and learn and exist
But theres always a few of this will never be kissed~
All souls live and leave to rise above
But theres a few sadly who will not know the gift of love~
It's lifes most priceless gift ever to be
And for those who find it it's ecstasy~
Once found nothing this gift can anything destroy
The real precious true love of a girl and boy~
It lasts forever and always in time
The gift of true love for ever divine~
So many sadly they come and sadly they go
But theres sadly a few this gift of love will ever know
It's there for one and it's there for all
But only ones heart can hear its call~
Only those that know it could ever explain
How now they wont need to seach for true love again~
It's the highest emotion the gift of true love
One of the most priceless of gifts from god above~
Clever souls adapt the ability to see
It within the very eyes of those so inlove that be~
It lasts forever and till the end of time
The gift of love forever divine~
Sadly always a few that will not know of its thrill
Ever so sadly some they never will~
Unless they listen to the strings of their hearts and souls
And seach for same as was in days of old~
No gift as precious as priceless on earth or above
As the knowing you have found the gift of true love~
If all on earth could only know
And hear those words I love you so~
To be with another as hand in glove
To know that feeling of the gift of love~  

Terrence Michael Sutton
copyright 2018

It matters not who you are where from
Each entity has and is a soul things to say
What it sees from where its standing
Upon any given night and any given day

Each soul has a voice and every poem too
Is what it wishes us to experience knowing
From wanting us to gather information
Happiness sadness Love from winds blowing

We make it harder for our souls thinking
That we controll our fate destiny and way
Instead of listening to our souls own voice
And what it has us for us to explore any day

Be it love in all forms from lust to simple care
And it gets angry with us ignoring its request
We often give ourselves advice its our ignorance
Not having been there yet not knowing of its test

Convincing ourselves we know when we do not
Telling others of our own ideas how it should be
Reasons why we should listen to it act upon it
Have bodies minds hearts sail that unsailed sea

It comes to us with a thought a wish a need
And we decide oh no thats not for me and so
We miss its requests for us to find out first
Before speaking for it not allowing do it go

Think of all many advise without knowing
Of things we have never known but insist
Of things situations emotions never learned
Feelings we feel not me but still  never kissed

Saving ourselves religious fantasy from equals
Listening to endless advice from pretenders
Who never have been there but know it all
Without lives putting  lives through blenders

Ignoring our own souls requests playing god
Our souls get angry adding karma to awake
Then us blaming others life others unknowing
When its ourselves to blame  our own mistake

Walk those paths never walked befor then advise
Know more of things we ridicule often true
Know what a situation feels like first of all
They might be  way better than we ever knew

Endless reason there are for allowing our souls
To request us to do as it wants us to do
Then after we experience pass its tests
We might like dislike love admire of them true

Many reasons are there for its voice being poetry
Try to read others writes between lines that be
Think deep then write of how you imagine was
If not known then go sail that unknown sea

https://sep.yimg.com/ay/yhst-13927681880659/bronze-the-thinker-sculpture-2.jpg

terrence michael sutton
copyright 2018

Away back in the beginning of time
Their became a plan~
To organize the earths greatest concert ever
That would be through the earth and land~
A one and only first time ever
Concert such as this upon this earth~
North,East,South ,West,
Around the planet girth to girth~
Created naturally by earths own nature
Supported right throughout of every land~
By every living thing and entity that be
To create a musical symphony ever grand~
A concert of nature to have all upon earth
To be all ever so very aware~
Of all the sounds and music and gifts of nature
All playing their own beyond compare~
Of all natures music upon this earth
In such a perfect and natural way~
Of all the sounds that are around to be heard
From every part of earth,land sea,night or day~
All played and performed only from nature
As only nature it's self would have it be~
Every single entity playing it's own songs
One grand natural symphony~
From all of things on earth that always existed
And from many more that still exist today~
As much recording effort was simply not needed
To have them all so naturally sing and play~
Sounds of nature and songs from all entities
From wind,the ocean and breeze~
From even smallest crickets to the elephants
All take part in natures songs with ease~
The rain it played it's many rhythms
And how all the breezes lent such a hand~
Smallest frogs within natures natural brooks
All singing in tune from mountains tops down to beach sand~
The many tall trees play their forest flutes
All gardens put on such a display~
With all from butterflies to busy bees
Every entity producing their music natures way~
Endless birds singing their songs
Babbling brooks playing over washed clean stones~
And even upon the wildernesses many planes
The wind their plays songs with grasses,sand and bones~
Not a natural animal or insect to be left out
Every single smallest and largest thing~
All part of natures gifts and talents
As one the sounds of nature they all sing~
The largest ever to be natural earths own concert
All in tune to this day is still taking place~
Nature never needed to record it at all
As it is always playing perfectly with natural grace~
One could not list all of the musicians
So many and so well how they play~
Free of charge non stop day and night
Natures gift nobody has to pay~
One never needs to buy it as it's free
For one and all upon this earth~
All they have to do is stop to listen
To natures symphonies of such worth~


Terrence Michael Sutton
Copyright 2008

At times one gets the notion to get lost
Just walk upon a track many seldom go
Take a staff to steady the rough stuff
Supplies shelter food some tools its so

Camera mobile spare batties axe knife
Pens pads matches or lense for camp fire
Alone your soul your home your very own
Peaceful thinking time bed roll silent desire

Ridding ones mind of stresses not yours
Allowing mind soul to take an earned break
Away from endless followers of total garbage
You the moon stars natures gifts thus to take

Away from gas bag preachers politicians too
A fool a mule knows how they lie as they do
Wasting others lives like the wasps in hives
Such a time its time of this time I knew

https://encrypted-tbn0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcRUojXUAVtxElL3c2ysK3b5YqCy8x0S2EdHNGscTuUKaWSC­Ym77

terrence michael sutton
copyright 2018

We all have an aura .. Around our bodies
Aura magnetic aura's are they
Like a magnet one side attracts the other
Pushes some things thus so away

How often has one said she's lovely he's not
What had her choose him wondering why
How often has one been drawn to another
So many have remarked re this cannot deny

Walking into a room one's drawn to another
Or as well pushed away from one the see
It's like a magnet pulling pushing drawing
It's the science of lovedoing it's thing  basicly

One's aura is a powerful thing at times in life
Doing as it does so often naturally in it's way
Bringing souls together or rejecting them
Without us knowing often upon night or day

Aura's indicate positive negative like dislike
It's a natural thing that surrounds us true
Aura's read Red anger Yellow cowardness
And sadness at times comes in shades of blue

terrence michael sutton
copyright 2018

The sun’s bright, even through my raybans
Old school and Black,
I found them at a party amongst some old cans,
Anyway, the sky is clear and bright,
Like the smile on my face and the glint in her eye.
Everything is good and I think maybe I’m happy
The sun makes her glow, sat next to her I’m one happy chappy.
She works the pout because the camera’s about
So I Smile, it’s effortless, it comes so naturally.
Everything is good and I’m thinking I’m happy.
A mouthful of that Sainsbury’s cider
And I’m thinking to myself I want to be inside her.
It’s cheap and has a strange tinge to the flavor
She’s looking at me I’m sure, god this tastes like feet.
But she’s all-sweet, one glance and I’m beat.
It’s all banter and larks from the boys,
Summer dress in February, summer joys
She talks of love and a broken heart,
I’m thinking this girl’s precious like a piece of art.
One of a kind like Mona Lisa
And I’m dying to please her.
Inadequacies kick in and I’m self-conscious again,
What if she likes big muscles, flat stomachs on her men?
**** it she’s here with me now,  
Some guy says something and she laughs,
That cackle that cry, now my minds in two halves.
****, he’s funnier than me, skinnier too,
Now I’m panicking, AH! What do I do?
She’s averts her attention back to me,
She catches me staring  so I look at a nearby tree,
Pretend to be in wonder, at least I stole his thunder.
She thinks it’s cute, if it works I’m not going to dispute.
But the next thing I know
Hours have passed and the suns gone down,
I’m still in sunglasses when we’re off in to town.
Despite the temperature drop, I don’t feel the cold,
Because holding her hand I’m back to 12 years old.
On the play ground and shy, running about like I’m a jedi.
Excitable, laughable and most of all Happy,
Nothing matters I’m care free
Free to be me, even if I did want to be Obi wan Kinobi.
She’s even more beautiful in the pastel orange glow,
The street light warms her face, my smiles still on show.
Beatles hit the nail on the head,
So we twist and shout till we’re talking of bed.
Talking with out words, because its her eyes that speak,
And I’m weak.
Embarressed at the prospect of what to expect
I look at the floor, then her eyes,
Oh God this is happening, I’m about to score.
The awkward thing is
I’m acting like nothing like this has ever happened before.
Im not saying I’m a *****,
just I wouldn’t complain if it happened a bit more.
God she’s Beautiful, and what was half is now full.
Her dress comes off and and so does my jaw
I could’ve rubbed my eyes red raw,
but I don’t
I appreciate every dent every shape,
Don’t get me wrong my mouth was still agape,
And something downstairs was trying to escape.
My hands tremble as I place them on her skin,
And we begin,
She softens my nerves with a kiss,
What more can I say… That night, was bliss.

Tom Sutton

The days are long and hard to go,
Walkin' down my side of the road.

Up ahead I see Emmylou comin' ,
known her since we was 2 or 3.
Yet, she crosses over from,
My side of the road,
Making like she don’t see me.

Up ahead comes old Nat Black,
Shuffling along and limping some,
He marched with Mister King,
Over in Selma in ‘63,
That’s how he got that limp you see.
But still he keeps to his side of the road,
On the opposite side from me.

Further ahead comes Jake Sutton’s kid,
Strutting along at a pretty brisk clip,
A stout club in one hand,
and a white sheet tucked under his arm.
Off I bet, to burn a cross somewheres.
Him and his rowdy friends cluttering up,
both sides of this road I tread.

Sleepy little ‘Bama town,
With so much trouble all around,
I just keep on trudging down,
My side of the road.

Hoping someday, it will lead us all,
Someplace better and fair,
Then this divided road we all share.

To me its so important smell in life
A fragence tells me all I need to know
If a meal smells good it tastes good
Some flowers I like others just not so

I can even smell the oncoming rain
I love the smell of first drop dry ground
I love my personal after shave deodorant
A smell talks volumes without a sound

Some womens perfume stops me dead
I love the smell of scones freshly made
I love the smell of natural countryside
The oceans salty oxygen of highest grade

I can always tell if my mothers about
Besides the fact shes been dead for years
Her Lilly Of The Valley how it lingers
My fathers tobacco same deal same tears

Smells are to me everything I need to know
Mostly good plus a few somewhat bad
I don't need to see as long as I can smell
They make me happy sometimes sad



terrence michael sutton
copyright 2018

I met Al at Menningers.
We were both patients there.
We were both on Men's Work Group.
The more I got to know Al, the more I
liked him. When we both got out of the
hospital, we spent time together.
He bought a farm north of Lawrence
and began farming organically, unusual
for a guy who grew up in Sutton Place,
one of the most expensive places to live
in the world, smackdab in the heart of
Manhattan, NYC. His great-grandfather
was a partner of J.P. Morgan. His father,
who owned five mansions around the world,
chose the one in Virginia in which to blow
his brains out against the wall of one of the 23
bedrooms. Al was up at 6 every morning
in his overalls to begin driving his tractor
in the fields and didn't stop until the sun
went down. You'd never know Al was a
billionaire, unless you became a buddy of
his, which I did. He was a bit eccentric person
at times, however. For example, he enjoyed
buying mostly classic foreign cars which he
had fun driving around for a few months,
then driving each into the field next to his
small house and left them there. From time
to time I'd drive down from Topeka to his
farm, then the two of us would go to a
steakhouse just outside of Lawrence, then
eat and chat. Al was one of the nicest guys
I ever met.

TOD HOWARD HAWKS

After this earth this time renewed again
After man on his egotistical horse rode
After he stting himself up as all knoing
His own path walked traveled strode

After being way too ahead of himself
After endless time this time often told
In one ear and diectly out of the other
Little boys never grow but always bold

The last soul weeps for mans stupidity
Long after being abused in many a way
By all the knowing ever so brilliant mind
When he's gone women will survive  stay

His ego blinded him not love money as well
Greed and self opinnion diluted his very mind
Blaming women always since he invented Eden
Heres hoping he can look back this to find

A lone woman weeps for mans own doing
Asking how much proof did he ever need
To see the mistakes he made within his actions
And to think it all mostly came down to greed

( For picture to explain this poem ..
  www.etastic.com  aussiepoet  )

terrence michael sutton
copyright 2018

The number one of many mounds
in Suffolk's shrouded Sutton Hoo
is savage Raedwald's resting ground,
shipboard treasures the only crew.

His iron helmet and his sword,
his shield and spears and silver bowls,
rich remnants of his royal horde
declare dominion over souls.

Who would bury me with treasure?
No weapons, just my worldly goods,
my Sunday suit, not made to measure,
my poems, written just for pleasure.

Walking in a corn field the other day
I came across a scare Crow standing there
His shirt was stuffed full of oldesy maze
A big smile of I'm so beautiful to wear

He had a look of  I'm the only one in life
That knows anything that's worth knowing
Perfectly at home was he with a big stick
Placed well up where the wind is often blowing

Looked as wonderful as he alone believed
Had no time for others that had traveled so
A proud look upon his painted face to wear
Ask him anything and I'm sure that he'd know

Not ever realizing he never knew that grammer
Was a piece of fruit that made the perfect pie
And yes the crows simply adored him endlessly
He was covered in crow calling cards from the sky

But thats his little world and being nice I guess
That's where he'll always be so easy thus to find
All dressed up in his best stuffed shirt of blue
The academic scare crow with little else on his mind

terrence michael sutton
copyright  2018

If there is a heaven, may Stephen Sutton and Maya Angelou meet and greet each other,give their support to each other in their new venture.

In England, we cheer, as we wave good bye to you Stephen,  with thumbs up and ribbons folded in yellow,
Stephen, you died far too young and gave so much, an inspiration to  life itself, you wholly earned my respect,

Maya, you gave so much, in inspirational words of injustice,
You taught me think, you taught me to feel,
I taught me to write,
but you and your life were my inspiration.

May they together meet the two young victims of **** and ****** in darkest India,
The two young ladies, hung from a tree, destroyed entirely,so young,
had no life,  it's so unfair, life is cruel, so very cruel.
Your parents they cry, there are no ribbons, but still, we bid you goodbye.
May you all rest in peace.
(C) Livvi