What Just Happened?

Easy plots are created at the bequest of our own lives.

Feels like a line someone wrote in a book.

How simple it might be to draw a circle across the Earth.

When in one interaction, then dominos begin to play.

I would like to go somewhere far away right now.

The Barrister might suggest, a spot of tea, in the sea.

When is it ever else about otherwise?


for it,

not as much, not quite it.



© Thom Amundsen 10/2021

A Cloudy Retreat

Seems a bit of a run,

this quiet solitude is a rant

waiting to echo the chambers

yet now,

secluded, off camera if you will,

the focus being

deep dark and hollow

some ill-forgotten travel,

where would rather

the flim-flam freedom of stuff.


Would seem a somber scrutiny

lays out upon

best-laid plans and failures,

all together now,

they chant a familiar line,

and the world stretches itself further

with a buzz,

something I cannot seem to grasp,

though apparent.


Instead a retreat

a shelter in confusion

with tenuous angles and reach

those outside seemingly in a mechanical line

march on.


Will I remain here in some sedentary plot

of soil

wanting only to find water.

© Thom Amundsen 10/2021

What Matters Anyway

What is it really

steps ahead,

is it ego or some


a decree of everything vital,

to keep course

with natural phenomenon.


What if there really is a parallel universe

and no-one told me,

I just always had to be this

odd one out

until one day and yes there it was when it happened,

an aura,

I find my first one



Life began to change

after that. I decided such a long journey

this was enough to ask for a change,

speaking only to



Next table please,


© Thom Amundsen 10/2021

Tears in My Eyes

I have tears in my eyes

so belaboring are my cries.

Much of my fear a disconnect,

why is this my life I select?


I wish I might bring her back,

a spiritual mystique I lack.

I wonder sometimes the life you lead

how often with you would be my need.


I know there is desperation in my word

though I believe I am not absurd.

When a television character might speak

tears in my eyes remind me to weep.


Tears in my eyes remind me to weep

Tears in my eyes remind me to weep


Oh how I want to skip this song

How I wish only to know what is wrong

If I cannot have you in my life

then I don’t know how to begin my life.


Tears in my eyes remind me to sleep

tears in my eyes remind me to sleep

tears in my eyes …

© Thom Amundsen 10/2021

Thinking in Frames

If distraction were meant to heal

then how in the world could we feel.

We seem to believe we must move forward.

How do we prevent not being so toward?


Wish we some peace when hell seems to thrive

when each moment our pains echo our lives.

Speak upon the courtesy of a fear

even when that risk is losing someone dear.


Aren’t we told to navigate our word,

contemplate thresholds without the absurd

actions of that disparate contrived, bellow.

Would that life could live a moment mellow.


A frame of reference certainly the goal

to avoid at all cost that spiraling hole.

Where gifts of nature quietly disappear

life seems different, reminds one to appear.



© Thom Amundsen 10/2021

Common Fears

I have fears, they are frequent

I have moments I wish I could cry

I have fears, and they are frequent

Wonder how many years, will I sigh


Wonder how many years, will I try


I can’t stand to storm the thinking

When I weep I still feel connected

Times like this I wish life were blinding

Moments will pass, seconds undetected


Wonder how many years, will I try


I want to hang on to this forever

Was a light I might have seen in retrospect

Don’t want to let go, don’t want to ever

I wish only that she know my – this respect.


Wonder how many years, will I try


As bones and veins and heart might decline

I wonder about the truth of roses and wine

I know that life contains only time

Only facets of lives important to rhyme


Wonder how many years, will I try

Wonder how many years, will I try


© Thom Amundsen 10/2021

Something In The Fog

In the quiet of morning

a glance


some catharsis looming.

We know the quiet

in silence

in chance

something in a silent



to each of us alone

though there would be

chance is only tone

the manner

a solitude

beyond an awkward

resonance with time

and shadows forward

acting upon this rhyme

in our lives

we feel the alives

of heart and soul

though we wish a fool

be our last venture

in fact, step in

the misty adventure.

© Thom Amundsen 10/2021

Ventures in Easy

To say that life is easy

would be to make me queasy

for we should know this, really,

seems remedied easily.


Time has its failures

masses of personality

complete with ventures

beyond our serenity.


i’m a hypocrite in line

standing in line

standing in line

I’m a hypocrite in line


Would any silent response

give just enough influence

Could we not be who flaunts

rather, lives in the onslaught


I’m a hypocrite in line, standing in line.

© Thom Amundsen 10/2021

I want to cry sometimes

when I can’t find my rhythm

a towering inferno

either this or that.

Which one really holds a pulse

versus I will choose

some easier road, or gravel or yes.

I watched the weather

one childhood afternoon

in disbelief

it cannot possibly be that strong

with it purples and reds and fiery mass forming a bow.

If life were meant to be easy

so many strings wouldn’t sway.

© Thom Amundsen 10/2021

What is Inside My Mind

Oh the trials and tribulations

to offer little poignancy

to the broader scope of the world.

Yet, what’s inside,


that part of why, the wicked

and the resolute


finding a stream silent in the wood

like a flowing dream

the sounds and scapes give solitude.

Some of my best stuff

occurred when she was around

he’d state, this deep pocket of his mind,

without recurrence who would remember except

for himself

over and over again,

yet, there are the people

those close and near,

heard it all forever as well

deep and ruthless the content.

This speaker

so sly of wit in order the discretion


to pull off


We do decide how



the idea of fortune in the mind,

the complexity of neurons

suddenly combine

purpose seems more near than far.

Sometimes I won’t have the answer

he spoke with such fair

in an ascent

allowing the callous nature of 

“I want to survive,”

wreak havoc.

Oops, I slipped.


© Thom Amundsen 10/2021