Collabtunes · Memorabilia
HANDWRITTEN SHEET - RATED (R, X, NC-17) - PAGE 4 OF 4
17 pieces on this page · every one an original · every photograph, nothing hidden · dashed lines are yours to fill
Item 1039
One man searches for power and riches
A torn sheet of lined notebook paper.
- Why it matters
- Tom writes this
- Type
- Handwritten sheet
- Collection
- Tom writes this
- Published in
- IN A BOOKShorter Lyrics (2013)
- Age when written
- written by age 34 at the latestdated from the earliest book it appears in - the sheet itself may be older
Price · Tier · Tom fills these
The only picture of this piece
The words on this page
One man searches for power and riches
While his brother would settle for fortune and Fame
Another kind brother just wants some bling bling and bitches
And his cousin's a preacher screaming out God's name
While his brother would settle for fortune and Fame
Another kind brother just wants some bling bling and bitches
And his cousin's a preacher screaming out God's name
Item 1052
Through rain, sleet, or snow there's someplace I must find
lined notebook paper, pen, multiple drafts
- Why it matters
- Tom writes this
- Type
- Handwritten sheet
- Collection
- Tom writes this
- Published in
- IN A BOOKShorter Lyrics (2013)
The Laima Dedication Anthology (2011) - Age when written
- written by age 33 at the latestdated from the earliest book it appears in - the sheet itself may be older
Price · Tier · Tom fills these
The only picture of this piece
The words on this page
Draft A (card 8): You know you were drinking too much for too long / When you find yourself living in a Jimmy Buffet song / I over extended my stay in Margaritaville / I'm still wasted this morning and will be for most of the day // Now some people will claim / That the worm is to blame / why my brain feels like it's been scraping asphalt // But I've gotten to know / Jose Cuervo / And we hang out together alot // Draft B (card 9, revised, same song): You know you were drinking too much for too long / When you find yourself living in a Jimmy Buffet song / I'm still wasted this morning [too much] and wasted today / and for most of the day / In margaritaville / My brain feels like / It's been scraping asphalt / some people claim / There's a woman to blame / the worm But I know / It's Jose Cuervo's fault / that is to blame // Separate fragment, different ink/hand, partially visible on same page edge: I woke up hungover and feeling depressed / Looked to my right, How'd I get into this mess? / Felt something on my shoulder, got to get this weight off my chest / It seems that last night I rode the fat girl express / I was sick to my stomach, a bad taste in my mouth / I heard a noise in the bathroom the door opened and another [came out] / It was the middle of summer but I think I went south (illegible fragment, appears to be a separate crude comic verse)
Item 1053
Not everyone's presence is a gift...
A piece of lined notebook paper.
- Why it matters
- Tom writes this
- Type
- Handwritten sheet
- Collection
- Tom writes this
- Published in
- ON THE 34 ALBUMSTrain Off the Tracks [S7] · as the song QUEST FOR IMMORTALITYmatched on the words: three or more seven-word runs shared with that song
- Age when written
- written by age 29 at the latestdated from the earliest book it appears in - the sheet itself may be older
Price · Tier · Tom fills these
The only picture of this piece
The words on this page
Not everyone's presence is a gift...
Yet still we've got to learn to live with it
I'm in the majority - not a misfit
Trapped within humanity - And we don't give a shit
Yet still we've got to learn to live with it
I'm in the majority - not a misfit
Trapped within humanity - And we don't give a shit
Item 1054
The power's in the mind and it works both ways
A page of lined notebook paper with handwritten poetry in black ink and four square paper cutouts with characters written on them.
- Why it matters
- Tom writes this
- Type
- Handwritten sheet
- Collection
- Tom writes this
- Published in
- IN A BOOKPoems By Tom (2007)
Tom Jensen Poem Anthology (2013)
The 714-Page Book (2012)
The Laima Dedication Anthology (2011) - Age when written
- written by age 29 at the latestdated from the earliest book it appears in - the sheet itself may be older
- Copies
- 2 in the catalogue · also written out as number 1051matched on the words by machine - Tom confirms
Price · Tier · Tom fills these
The only picture of this piece
The words on this page
Through rain, sleet, or snow there's someplace I
must find-this I know
And I'll follow my path as I go
There's Some ie forever searching and Some re in
the know
days before you are
The [crossed out word] of time is dwindling
Burning in the fireplace like kindling
The Flame which burns must end you know
It'll end you know
must find-this I know
And I'll follow my path as I go
There's Some ie forever searching and Some re in
the know
days before you are
The [crossed out word] of time is dwindling
Burning in the fireplace like kindling
The Flame which burns must end you know
It'll end you know
Item 1073
FIELD OF STONE
A printed poem on white paper and a handwritten note on a sheet of lined notebook paper.
- Why it matters
- Tom writes this
- Type
- Handwritten sheet
- Collection
- Tom writes this
- Published in
- PREVIOUSLY UNPUBLISHEDSearched against the 34 albums, every book and Poems By Tom - found in none of them
Price · Tier · Tom fills these
Picture 1 of 6
Picture 2 of 6
Picture 3 of 6
Picture 4 of 6
Picture 5 of 6
Picture 6 of 6
The words on this page
If it wasn't such crappa crappa
Then I'd be been a rappa rappa
I'd be Mc McNice
The new vanilla Ice
or Mc Oreo Yeah, there ya go go
I eat ho ho's twenty four seven
Another midnight slanger at seven eleven
If I was a ding dong ding-a-ling
I'd sing sing from my cell in singh-singh
That I'm the king King of the bling bling
Me and my posse we roll tight
Strapped 'cause it's a fact
We don't pack light on friday night
Ya won't get slapped if ya get into a fight
Look like ya went ten rounds with Kimbo Slice
Time for the hook, hook, hook
Where I Make you my fish, fish, fish
Take the worm, make it squirm
Splish splash I squish SQUISH
whiplash
If it wasn't such crappa
Then I'd be been a rappa
Never be a boy in a hood
But maybe an acta
---
FIELD OF STONE - edit
after a pro got his hands on it......45
minutes later here it is (still needs a little
tweeking)
I remember the night I went blind,
In a field of stone.
Saw haunting and familiar faces 9
Chasing me yet I was all alone 8
And slowly as sanity reappeared,
I roamed the streets.
Living out my deepest fears.
These demon thoughts,
My head was their home. 5
They drove me to search,
For a reason I don't belong.
This mind once thought pure thoughts, 6
Has no point of view, 5
Has become lost in .5
A field of stone; a barren wasteland,9
No one comes through, 4
Now I want all thought to end...it's true. 9
Lying awake in bed,
I meditate.
Still wondering who I am,
So I contemplate.
The order of my Universe,
Great unknown.
Why I act so childish, 6
Even as I've grown. 5
Slowly learning the meaning of life. 9
But to know the truth,
Double-edged sword that scars for life. 7
This mind that seemed so sweet,
Is the same mind that,
Now thinks thoughts so wrong. 5
And I know you may not understand,
But if you knew,
You'd want it all to end like I do.
By: Tyler Thompson
ORIGINAL SONGS
& LYRICS BY TYLER
THOMPSON
NOTE:
YOU CANNOT
USE THESE
LYRICS TO MAKE
MUSIC
I just editted the
Lyrics - Just showing
off 11
---
NOTE:
YOU CANNOT
USE THESE
LYRICS TO MAKE
MUSIC
---
ORIGINAL SONGS
& LYRICS BY TYLER
THOMPSON
---
3
7
0
1
FIELD OF STONE - edit
after a pro got his hands on it......45
minutes later here it is (still needs a little
tweeking)
I remember the night I went blind,
In a field of stone.
Saw haunting and familiar faces 9
Chasing me yet I was all alone 8
And slowly as sanity reappeared,
I roamed the streets,
Living out my deepest fears.
These demon thoughts,
My head was their home. 5
They drove me to search,
For a reason I don't belong.
This mind once thought pure thoughts, 6
Has no point of view, 5
Has become lost in . 5
A field of stone; a barren wasteland, 9
No one comes through, 4
Now I want all thought to end...it's true. 9
Lying awake in bed,
---
Now I want all thought to end...it's true.
Lying awake in bed,
I meditate.
Still wondering who I am,
So I contemplate.
The order of my Universe,
Great unknown.
Why I act so childish, 6
Even as I've grown. 5
Slowly learning the meaning of life. 9
But to know the truth,
Double-edged sword that scars for life. 7
This mind that seemed so sweet,
Is the same mind that,
Now thinks thoughts so wrong. 5
And I know you may not understand,
But if you knew,
You'd want it all to end like I do.
By: Tyler Wayne Thompson
Then I'd be been a rappa rappa
I'd be Mc McNice
The new vanilla Ice
or Mc Oreo Yeah, there ya go go
I eat ho ho's twenty four seven
Another midnight slanger at seven eleven
If I was a ding dong ding-a-ling
I'd sing sing from my cell in singh-singh
That I'm the king King of the bling bling
Me and my posse we roll tight
Strapped 'cause it's a fact
We don't pack light on friday night
Ya won't get slapped if ya get into a fight
Look like ya went ten rounds with Kimbo Slice
Time for the hook, hook, hook
Where I Make you my fish, fish, fish
Take the worm, make it squirm
Splish splash I squish SQUISH
whiplash
If it wasn't such crappa
Then I'd be been a rappa
Never be a boy in a hood
But maybe an acta
---
FIELD OF STONE - edit
after a pro got his hands on it......45
minutes later here it is (still needs a little
tweeking)
I remember the night I went blind,
In a field of stone.
Saw haunting and familiar faces 9
Chasing me yet I was all alone 8
And slowly as sanity reappeared,
I roamed the streets.
Living out my deepest fears.
These demon thoughts,
My head was their home. 5
They drove me to search,
For a reason I don't belong.
This mind once thought pure thoughts, 6
Has no point of view, 5
Has become lost in .5
A field of stone; a barren wasteland,9
No one comes through, 4
Now I want all thought to end...it's true. 9
Lying awake in bed,
I meditate.
Still wondering who I am,
So I contemplate.
The order of my Universe,
Great unknown.
Why I act so childish, 6
Even as I've grown. 5
Slowly learning the meaning of life. 9
But to know the truth,
Double-edged sword that scars for life. 7
This mind that seemed so sweet,
Is the same mind that,
Now thinks thoughts so wrong. 5
And I know you may not understand,
But if you knew,
You'd want it all to end like I do.
By: Tyler Thompson
ORIGINAL SONGS
& LYRICS BY TYLER
THOMPSON
NOTE:
YOU CANNOT
USE THESE
LYRICS TO MAKE
MUSIC
I just editted the
Lyrics - Just showing
off 11
---
NOTE:
YOU CANNOT
USE THESE
LYRICS TO MAKE
MUSIC
---
ORIGINAL SONGS
& LYRICS BY TYLER
THOMPSON
---
3
7
0
1
FIELD OF STONE - edit
after a pro got his hands on it......45
minutes later here it is (still needs a little
tweeking)
I remember the night I went blind,
In a field of stone.
Saw haunting and familiar faces 9
Chasing me yet I was all alone 8
And slowly as sanity reappeared,
I roamed the streets,
Living out my deepest fears.
These demon thoughts,
My head was their home. 5
They drove me to search,
For a reason I don't belong.
This mind once thought pure thoughts, 6
Has no point of view, 5
Has become lost in . 5
A field of stone; a barren wasteland, 9
No one comes through, 4
Now I want all thought to end...it's true. 9
Lying awake in bed,
---
Now I want all thought to end...it's true.
Lying awake in bed,
I meditate.
Still wondering who I am,
So I contemplate.
The order of my Universe,
Great unknown.
Why I act so childish, 6
Even as I've grown. 5
Slowly learning the meaning of life. 9
But to know the truth,
Double-edged sword that scars for life. 7
This mind that seemed so sweet,
Is the same mind that,
Now thinks thoughts so wrong. 5
And I know you may not understand,
But if you knew,
You'd want it all to end like I do.
By: Tyler Wayne Thompson
Item 1075
Ending
A handwritten note on a stack of white printer paper.
- Why it matters
- Tom writes this
- Type
- Handwritten sheet
- Collection
- Tom writes this
- Published in
- ON THE 34 ALBUMSLove Without a Doubt [SL5] · as the song STILL THINKING OF YOU TONIGHTmatched on the words: three or more seven-word runs shared with that song
IN A BOOKThe November 2024 Collection (2024)
Finished Song Lyrics (2011)
Only The Best (2018)
A Lifetime Of Rhyme (2020)
The 714-Page Book (2012)
The Laima Dedication Anthology (2011)
34 Albums, Books 1 and 2 (2026)
Brian Rainstorm Song Lyric Book (2014)
The November 2012 Anthology (2012)
Revised 31 Albums With Index (2024)
Tom Jensen Lyrics (2019) - Age when written
- written by age 32 at the latestdated from the earliest book it appears in - the sheet itself may be older
Price · Tier · Tom fills these
Picture 1 of 4
Picture 2 of 4
Picture 3 of 4
Picture 4 of 4
The words on this page
Ending ->
waiting for you here
with just this line...
Nothing's changed...
I'm still...
---
Don't fuck with my lyrics:
Waiting for you here
With just this line that I recite
That we're soulmates.
If there ever was, is or could be
Searching in my soul
Looking to find that inner light
Sitting here by myself..
I'm still.. ~
---
1:50 chord change vibes !!!
clang banger on melody piano
kill pussy ending "Tonight"
Kill: If you were here with me
well only then could I sleep tight
The sleep pass by so slow
I'm still thinking of you tonight
We Need: Stand out
Instrumental
or
Vocal harmony
thingy to replace
time.
waiting for you here
with just this line...
Nothing's changed...
I'm still...
---
Don't fuck with my lyrics:
Waiting for you here
With just this line that I recite
That we're soulmates.
If there ever was, is or could be
Searching in my soul
Looking to find that inner light
Sitting here by myself..
I'm still.. ~
---
1:50 chord change vibes !!!
clang banger on melody piano
kill pussy ending "Tonight"
Kill: If you were here with me
well only then could I sleep tight
The sleep pass by so slow
I'm still thinking of you tonight
We Need: Stand out
Instrumental
or
Vocal harmony
thingy to replace
time.
Item 1077
HUNGOVER MORNING - HANDWRITTEN POEM/STORY FRAGMENT
lined notebook paper, green ink
- Why it matters
- Tom writes this
- Type
- Handwritten sheet
- Collection
- Tom writes this
- Published in
- IN A BOOKShorter Lyrics (2013)
The Laima Dedication Anthology (2011) - Age when written
- written by age 33 at the latestdated from the earliest book it appears in - the sheet itself may be older
Price · Tier · Tom fills these
No photograph on file yet
This piece is real - its picture has not been found
This piece is real - its picture has not been found
The words on this page
I woke up hungover and feeling depressed / Looked to my right, How'd I get into this mess? / Felt something on my shoulder, got to get this weight off my chest / It seems that last night I rode the fat girl express // I was sick to my stomach, a bad taste in my mouth / I heard a noise in the bathroom the door opened and another came out / It was the middle of summer but I think I went south
Item 1608
STATS
Lined loose-leaf paper alongside four small paper scraps.
- Why it matters
- Tom writes this
- Type
- Handwritten sheet
- Collection
- Tom writes this
- Published in
- PREVIOUSLY UNPUBLISHEDSearched against the 34 albums, every book and Poems By Tom - found in none of them
Price · Tier · Tom fills these
The only picture of this piece
The words below may belong to another sheet - the first line does not match the picture. Read the picture.
The words on this page
Premise: Life As we Know it is Fiction. Not Real. A Simulation binary code ones and zeros. Electric pulses of electricity / energy. We're A Fucking game! Entertainment for a higher Being. What is our goal? STATS! It's just a race to the leader board.
Item 1649
"THE SHIT SHOW" - HANDWRITTEN DARK-COMEDY MONOLOGUE ON MASS SHOOTINGS, PLUS "DONUTS" NOTE
loose lined and unlined notebook paper, pencil/pen
- Why it matters
- Tom writes this
- Type
- Handwritten sheet
- Collection
- Tom writes this
- Published in
- PREVIOUSLY UNPUBLISHEDSearched against the 34 albums, every book and Poems By Tom - found in none of them
Price · Tier · Tom fills these
Picture 1 of 2
Picture 2 of 2
The words on this page
Sheet 1 (single word, large letters): "DONUTS". Sheet 2, handwritten monologue/spoken-word draft: "Well it's finally time to start the shit show... Who's on the list tonight, soon everybody will know... Uvalde Police you certainly should have a lot to say for yourselves... Third graders certainly go around shooting themselves... A Las Vegas guy in two rooms in Vegas machine guns [500, crossed out] and 62 dead / Smells even fishier than the Juan Valdez Building, Building Seven and Jeffrey Epstein combined!" This is dark-comedy/satirical commentary referencing the Uvalde school shooting and Las Vegas mass shooting. CONTENT FLAG: references real mass-casualty tragedies (Uvalde school shooting, Las Vegas shooting) and conspiracy-adjacent commentary (Jeffrey Epstein, Building 7) in a crude/satirical tone - flagging for review before any public posting.
Item 1650
COLLECTION OF QUOTE CARDS AND SKETCH NOTES - POLITICS, COMEDY, AND RAUNCHY VERSE
loose notebook paper and index-card-sized notes, blue/black/purple ink
- Why it matters
- Tom writes this
- Type
- Handwritten sheet
- Collection
- Tom writes this
- Published in
- PREVIOUSLY UNPUBLISHEDSearched against the 34 albums, every book and Poems By Tom - found in none of them
Price · Tier · Tom fills these
Picture 1 of 6
Picture 2 of 6
Picture 3 of 6
Picture 4 of 6
Picture 5 of 6
Picture 6 of 6
The words on this page
COLLECTION OF NUMBERED NOTE CARDS/SHEETS containing quotes, lyric fragments, and planning notes: "Politricks" header card with lyric "Don't smoke Kool... be cool" - Jalen's uncle, Track 4; "You own the things that don't cost anything" - Jalen's grandpa, Track 4; a card of "Charade of pacifinity" notes referencing A.H. track timing (7:00 min); a card headed "Damn John Jay! Damn everyone who won't damn John Jay! Damn everyone who won't put up lights in the windows and sit up all night damning John Jay!"; a raunchy party verse: "I'm just happy to be here at the party... Everything against me is for sale, Come bearing the right gifts and I'll read from your script, peddle your gift. If you throw in ___ then I'll even suck your dick"; a crude couplet "Trumpstein left a Trumpstain: A big old wet spot on the bed. Tears, Sweat, and cum, Piss, Blood"; historical/political quote cards: "A motley rabble of saucy boys" - John Adams on the Boston Massacre; "For a society it is more important for innocence to be protected than guilt to be punished" - John Adams; "Monarchy is one of the Sins of the Jews" - Thomas Paine in Common Sense (annotated "Wow!"); notes on "moments which mark you" and a Denzel Washington (Fallen) quote about evil; a Dempsey/Washington quote fragment "Nobody likes to get hit...but evil just keeps on coming"; scheduling notes "Fri 3pm Snow, This Sat 7am"; philosophical fragments "Privitize the gains, Socialize the losses", "After the earthquake what remains? The crumbled roads of Colossus. Rome never fell, it just learned Italian, French and Spanish"; additional cards referencing a "self-consciousness is the enemy of interestingness" (Malcolm Gladwell paraphrase), a Tom Hanks quote about rejecting the premise of a question (Police Academy movie reference), "Rocky" quotes, and notes about a "worship" script/song draft and "Silicone Valley" concept. CONTENT FLAG: includes sexually explicit/crude verse - flagging for review before any public posting.
Item 1652
crumpled brown/purple ink poem sheet (Fri 3PM snow / Privatize the gains)
cut lyric strips on table, red + blue ink annotations
- Why it matters
- Tom writes this
- Type
- Handwritten sheet
- Collection
- Tom writes this
- Published in
- ON THE 34 ALBUMSBi Ride or Die Ride [S24] · as the song WHY I LIKE SEXmatched on the words: three or more seven-word runs shared with that song
IN A BOOKThe November 2024 Collection (2024)
34 Albums, Books 1 and 2 (2026) - Age when written
- written by age 46 at the latestdated from the earliest book it appears in - the sheet itself may be older
Price · Tier · Tom fills these
No photograph on file yet
This piece is real - its picture has not been found
This piece is real - its picture has not been found
The words on this page
Layout/working sheet for a lyric collection titled "BI ALBUM" ("album thirty-four", per handwritten label), with cut-and-arranged printed lyric strips numbered as tracks "one of eight" through "six of eight," annotated in blue and red pen with reordering notes, combine instructions, and reactions (e.g. "combine w/ 240 (6 of 8)", "Love How they dangle!", "whats horny... white pink and black? / us in the sack", "First!!!"). Track excerpts include explicit sexual content and content referencing minors being sexually abused ("I groomed her to be my bride, when they asked how old she was, I lied"; "The priest by the sea... Lived the man who molested me... since she was twelve years old"; "Why I Like Sex - I asked my psychiatrist why I like sex so much, he said when I was younger, I might have been touched"), explicit racial and ethnic references ("I don't care about the Negros dying from AIDS in the Sudan", referencing Ukrainians, Syrian refugees, Iran), homophobic and other slurs, and crude sexual content throughout (tracks titled "I'M BI RIDE", "I STUFFED MY STIFF", "SHE'S GOT THE", "FOUR PILLS A DAY", "IN THIS ORGY IN", "SECRETLY STRAIGHT", "WHO'S YOUR FAVORITE BAND", "SHE SAID YOU CAN", "SONAR"). A separate stray photo (20260808_105718.jpg, shot ~10:57am, ten hours before the two layout photos here) is NOT part of this item - per a note left in the folder, it is a page of a Business Insider article (a Pittsburgh restaurant piece) photographed in a ring binder and does not belong to 1652; only the two 8:55pm layout photos (20260808_205551.jpg and 20260808_205619.jpg) were transcribed as the item. CONTENT FLAG - SEVERE: this item contains explicit descriptions of child sexual abuse/grooming, racial slurs and references to race tied to disease/death, and extensive crude sexual content. This item must be reviewed before any handling beyond archival cataloging, and before any public posting.
Item 1729
STREET RHYMES STOP CRIME SIDE WALK SONGS
Lined notebook paper sheets and typed paper sheets.
- Why it matters
- Tom writes this
- Type
- Handwritten sheet
- Collection
- Tom writes this
- Published in
- IN A BOOKThe November 2024 Collection (2024)
34 Albums, Books 1 and 2 (2026) - Age when written
- written by age 46 at the latestdated from the earliest book it appears in - the sheet itself may be older
Price · Tier · Tom fills these
Picture 1 of 5
Picture 2 of 5
Picture 3 of 5
Picture 4 of 5
Picture 5 of 5
The words on this page
[Left Paper - Top]
STREET RHYMES STOP CRIME
SIDE WALK SONGS
Musicians turn my words to Songs. I have albums of music and books of poems/lyrics waiting to be turned into music.
My idea is to find a bar/restaurant and make music from my words during the day with local musicians live w/ audience/patron participation and play the music made at night - both live jams and kareoke-type sing alongs.
The Kicker: My best friend is a singer and songwriter from Denmark who would be able to play "live" for us here via Web Cam from her livingroom in Denmark I.E. "Live" Performance... she has BILLION dollar talent :)
[Left Paper - Bottom]
The picture bank
It's a money holding service that allows homeless to set a goal savings amount where they can deposit a little each week and yet not be able to take it out until they reach their goal. If they do not reach their goal then the money stays in the program and is not returned to them. If they reach their goal then they can take the money out or set a higher goal with the same restrictions...
THIS IS FOR THOSE WHO ARE REALLY determined to succeed but are afraid of the temptation or carrying money...
Complete Transparency with this system.
The picture part is the I.D. w/ name and account number.
ALL KEPT MONEY will be Put BACK into the program. 100% will be used For showering facilities and mental health care (no graft!)
[Right Paper]
- What is the real estate market's over view of the homeless problem in San Francisco?
- Are there any locations in S.F. that could tolerate a central gathering of the homeless population?
- Is there any "benefit" to the "elite" in not addressing the homeless problem? I.E. keeping the status Quo?
- What about the feasibility of a sponsorship of a relocation plan to take those in shelters and give them a permanent residence/place to live in another locale/state option... i.e. a less expensive cost of living place...
- Or.. Think of a mining town in which a business owns everything - these people can be monetized and utilized as low cost workers provided these their basic needs are met... Exploitative-Yes-but life improving. win/win.
---
The picture bank
It's a money holding service that allows Homeless to set a goal savings amount where they can deposit a little each week and yet not be able to take it out until they reach their goal. If they do not reach their goal then the money stays in the program and is not returned to them. If they reach their goal then they can take the money out or set a higher goal with the same restrictions...
THIS IS FOR THOSE WHO ARE REALLY Determined to succeed but are afraid of temptation or carrying money...
Complete Transparency with this system.
The "picture" part is the I.D. w/ name and [?] account number.
ALL KEPT MONEY will be PUT BACK into the program. 100% will be used for showering facilities and mental health care (no graft!)
STREET RHYMES STOP CRIME
SIDE WALK SONGS
Musicians turn my words to Songs. I have albums of music and books of poems/lyrics waiting to be turned into music.
My idea is to find a bar/restaurant and make music from my words during the day with local musicians live w/ audience/patron participation and play the music made at night - both live jams and kareoke-type sing alongs.
The Kicker: My best friend is a singer and songwriter from Denmark who would be able to play "live" for us here via Web Cam from her livingroom in Denmark I.E. "Live" Performance... she has BILLION dollar talent :)
[Left Paper - Bottom]
The picture bank
It's a money holding service that allows homeless to set a goal savings amount where they can deposit a little each week and yet not be able to take it out until they reach their goal. If they do not reach their goal then the money stays in the program and is not returned to them. If they reach their goal then they can take the money out or set a higher goal with the same restrictions...
THIS IS FOR THOSE WHO ARE REALLY determined to succeed but are afraid of the temptation or carrying money...
Complete Transparency with this system.
The picture part is the I.D. w/ name and account number.
ALL KEPT MONEY will be Put BACK into the program. 100% will be used For showering facilities and mental health care (no graft!)
[Right Paper]
- What is the real estate market's over view of the homeless problem in San Francisco?
- Are there any locations in S.F. that could tolerate a central gathering of the homeless population?
- Is there any "benefit" to the "elite" in not addressing the homeless problem? I.E. keeping the status Quo?
- What about the feasibility of a sponsorship of a relocation plan to take those in shelters and give them a permanent residence/place to live in another locale/state option... i.e. a less expensive cost of living place...
- Or.. Think of a mining town in which a business owns everything - these people can be monetized and utilized as low cost workers provided these their basic needs are met... Exploitative-Yes-but life improving. win/win.
---
The picture bank
It's a money holding service that allows Homeless to set a goal savings amount where they can deposit a little each week and yet not be able to take it out until they reach their goal. If they do not reach their goal then the money stays in the program and is not returned to them. If they reach their goal then they can take the money out or set a higher goal with the same restrictions...
THIS IS FOR THOSE WHO ARE REALLY Determined to succeed but are afraid of temptation or carrying money...
Complete Transparency with this system.
The "picture" part is the I.D. w/ name and [?] account number.
ALL KEPT MONEY will be PUT BACK into the program. 100% will be used for showering facilities and mental health care (no graft!)
Item 1735
UNTITLED - first line: I pretend my hate comes from a
White paper written on in black and red ink.
- Why it matters
- Tom writes this
- Type
- Handwritten sheet
- Collection
- Tom writes this
- Published in
- ON THE 34 ALBUMSZ [S23] · as the song ONE STEP HIGHER ; NOBLE PLACE HATEmatched on the words: three or more seven-word runs shared with that song
IN A BOOKThe November 2024 Collection (2024)
34 Albums, Books 1 and 2 (2026) - Age when written
- written by age 46 at the latestdated from the earliest book it appears in - the sheet itself may be older
Price · Tier · Tom fills these
Picture 1 of 3
Picture 2 of 3
Picture 3 of 3
The words on this page
I pretend my hate comes from a
noble place
I kill you in the name of religion!
I am going off to war. What are we fighting for? I'll
pretend it was my own decision.
I pay taxes for schools and tolls for roads
I'm not drafted but Cagel Zelinsky I don't wanna play
For a quarterback throwing hospital passes as neglect
They give my money to the Jews for what [symbol] God know?
Who else do we give money to to fight foreign
I mean what do you think "Blowback" by Chalmers war?
Johnson is for?
Gift it don't burn it
Or you will just have to relearn it
The mask they wear is falling
Can you hear them calling
Mother I am dying
I pay this price for lying
The man building the bombs
His time it has come
Those who just turned away
Await the very same fate
[Along the right margin, written vertically:]
Oct 23 23
12 18 15
---
I Pretend my hate comes from a
I'll kill you in the name of religion! noble place
I'm going off to war. What are we fighting for? I'll
And pretend it was my own decision
I pay taxes for schools and tolls for roads
I got drafted but coach Zelinsky, I don't wanna play
For a Quarterback throwing hospital passes as we get
carried away
They give my money to the Jews for what @ God know?
who else do we give money to to fight foreign
I mean what do you think "Blow back" by Chalmers wars?
gift it don't burn it
or you will just have to relearn it
Johnson is for?
---
The mask they wear is falling
Can you hear them calling
Mother I am dying
I pay this price for lying
The man building the bombs
His time it has come
Those who just turned away
Await the very same fate
noble place
I kill you in the name of religion!
I am going off to war. What are we fighting for? I'll
pretend it was my own decision.
I pay taxes for schools and tolls for roads
I'm not drafted but Cagel Zelinsky I don't wanna play
For a quarterback throwing hospital passes as neglect
They give my money to the Jews for what [symbol] God know?
Who else do we give money to to fight foreign
I mean what do you think "Blowback" by Chalmers war?
Johnson is for?
Gift it don't burn it
Or you will just have to relearn it
The mask they wear is falling
Can you hear them calling
Mother I am dying
I pay this price for lying
The man building the bombs
His time it has come
Those who just turned away
Await the very same fate
[Along the right margin, written vertically:]
Oct 23 23
12 18 15
---
I Pretend my hate comes from a
I'll kill you in the name of religion! noble place
I'm going off to war. What are we fighting for? I'll
And pretend it was my own decision
I pay taxes for schools and tolls for roads
I got drafted but coach Zelinsky, I don't wanna play
For a Quarterback throwing hospital passes as we get
carried away
They give my money to the Jews for what @ God know?
who else do we give money to to fight foreign
I mean what do you think "Blow back" by Chalmers wars?
gift it don't burn it
or you will just have to relearn it
Johnson is for?
---
The mask they wear is falling
Can you hear them calling
Mother I am dying
I pay this price for lying
The man building the bombs
His time it has come
Those who just turned away
Await the very same fate
Item 1824
A Hard Rain's Gonna Fall
Standard white printer paper featuring printed text with handwritten annotations in black ink on the title page.
- Why it matters
- Tom writes this
- Type
- Handwritten sheet
- Collection
- Tom writes this
- Published in
- PREVIOUSLY UNPUBLISHEDSearched against the 34 albums, every book and Poems By Tom - found in none of them
- Copies
- 3 in the catalogue · also written out as number 1842, 1865matched on the words by machine - Tom confirms
Price · Tier · Tom fills these
Picture 1 of 4
Picture 2 of 4
Picture 3 of 4
Picture 4 of 4
The words on this page
May 18
ELA's B-Day
Tom Jensen
January 27, 1999
Creative Writing
A Hard Rain's Gonna Fall
---
The smoke from a half lit cigarette waves aimlessly through the air. A light brown guitar sits in the corner awaiting the delicate touch of it's master. Three empty notebooks sit atop the table curiously wondering what will fill their blank pages. Will there be small sketches of beautiful young women or perhaps some silly verses about how everybody must get stoned? An old weathered, green chair, still feeling the pain of a dropped cigarette, reminisces about the time it's owner, the master, once sat for what seemed like an eternity trying to capture the soul of a man named Hollis Brown. An old, rusty razor lays, forgotten, in a corner clutching on to one last piece of cocaine. A broken guitar string sits beneath a pile of trash still humming the melody of what it prays comes true in "Forever Young", and in the state of mind that it will never be thrown away.
A familiar face appears from behind a closed door. All of the objects in the room experience a buzz of excitement. Perhaps one of them will receive their master's attention, if even only for an instant. The master sits upon the green chair and sighs. "Must be another sad love song", the chair thinks to itself. The razor, on the other hand says, "I think he's angry at the world, I hope he's not as angry as that 'Masters of war' song... You know, the one that goes:
And I hope that you die
And you're death'll come soon
I will follow your casket
In the pale afternoon
And I'll watch while you're lowered
Down to your deathbed
And I'll stand o'er your grave
'Til I'm sure that you're dead
The master grabs the yellow notebook and begins jotting down a few lines. The guitar waits patiently, for it knows that the master always uses him and the notebook together. As plain as bread and
---
butter and as sweet as peanut butter and jelly. After a little while, just like clockwork, the notebook is set
aside and the inevitable happens. A quick tuning and he's off. "What'd he write, can you see?" asks the
guitar, even though he'll be one of the first ones to hear. To which the notebook responds, "It's kinda hard
to see considering everything's upside down but it looks like it says..." At that very instance the master
begins strumming along and starts singing softly:
Close your eyes, close the door
You don't have to worry any more.
I'll be your baby tonight.
"Boy, were we off!" shouts the guitar, over the loud playing. "Sounds like a happy song."
After a quick cigarette and a half of joint the master begins to think to himself. He wonders to
himself if all of the pain and sacrifice of all his endless nights of writing and playing are worth
it. He wonders what will fill the next blank page. He remembers the night he turned heads as his audience
watched (some in anger that he "sold out" and others in enjoyment) as he magically blended folk and
rock into one. He remembers the boos, the cheers, and all the fans over the years. A smile is brought to
his face as he thinks of going from playing in corner coffee shops in New York all the way to the big time.
He thinks of the night in the Chelsea Hotel writing "Sad-eyed Lady of the lowlands" for his wife Sarah.
The master sits back in his chair, puts his feet on the table and stares at his pen. He stares deliberately at
his pen as if looking for inspiration. The pens screams out inaudibly, "I love you, man!" But alas. The
master cannot hear these words of love, though, he just continues staring at the pen.
The master then begins thinking about his almost fateful motorcycle crash and begins humming
something about "knocking on heaven's door". The old, rusty razor yells with pride, "He used me that
night, my God! I didn't sleep for a week!" The notebook, always of good humor, responds, "HELL, you
could have killed him right there!" The master is always the center of attention in this room, as you might
expect. Of course, being the greatest of all time can have that effect on people, er... things.
As the master was about to take a little rest he began to pick up a magazine in which he has been
quoted. He ponders the ups and downs of being famous and all of the expectations that come with it. He
---
reads his dialogue from an article about him, "You can't try to come up with songs that people will think
is all hip and cool, you have to write for yourself. There are too many phonies out there and all the one hit
wonders. They come up with a gimmick catch phrase, write some mumbo jumbo and the people love it.
Six months later they've blown all their dough and the fans never even knew who they were."
As he gazes out the window at the pouring rain out side the master wonders again who exactly he is
writing for, who are the ones who really enjoy his work. He doesn't realize that his biggest fan is sitting
right here in this room, it is actually his guitar. The two make a marvelous pair, not unlike the guitar and
the notebook.
Sometimes in this world in which we live in things are not always what they seem. This is the
reason that the master continues with his work- to explain the unseen, to show what is right, what is pure
and true and consequentially, what is wrong and needs to be changed. So with his aging face, fading voice
and wearing guitar he carries on with no direction home, like a rolling stone. He knows how it feels to
have to seek shelter from the storm. He is aware that the times they are a'changing and he's spreading the
word to the uninformed. With that thought he begins to sing a few verses from one of his songs:
Stake my future on a hell of a past
Looks like tomorrow is coming on fast
Ain't complainin' 'bout what I got
Seen better times but who has not....
The guitar understands the master's thoughts as they have been partners for many years. If not for
anyone else, he has been touched by their many nights together. The guitar has experienced what life
outside the room is like through the master's music and is happy inside the dry, warm room. For the master
has predicted that a hard rain's gonna fall and when you're made of wood you can't really hold an umbrella
can you?
As the master is getting ready to lay down for a night's rest he happens to realize that he was
sitting on one of his albums: SELF PORTRAIT by Bob Dylan. And on that note he falls asleep contently
remembering what someone once said to him, "Don't think twice, it's alright."
ELA's B-Day
Tom Jensen
January 27, 1999
Creative Writing
A Hard Rain's Gonna Fall
---
The smoke from a half lit cigarette waves aimlessly through the air. A light brown guitar sits in the corner awaiting the delicate touch of it's master. Three empty notebooks sit atop the table curiously wondering what will fill their blank pages. Will there be small sketches of beautiful young women or perhaps some silly verses about how everybody must get stoned? An old weathered, green chair, still feeling the pain of a dropped cigarette, reminisces about the time it's owner, the master, once sat for what seemed like an eternity trying to capture the soul of a man named Hollis Brown. An old, rusty razor lays, forgotten, in a corner clutching on to one last piece of cocaine. A broken guitar string sits beneath a pile of trash still humming the melody of what it prays comes true in "Forever Young", and in the state of mind that it will never be thrown away.
A familiar face appears from behind a closed door. All of the objects in the room experience a buzz of excitement. Perhaps one of them will receive their master's attention, if even only for an instant. The master sits upon the green chair and sighs. "Must be another sad love song", the chair thinks to itself. The razor, on the other hand says, "I think he's angry at the world, I hope he's not as angry as that 'Masters of war' song... You know, the one that goes:
And I hope that you die
And you're death'll come soon
I will follow your casket
In the pale afternoon
And I'll watch while you're lowered
Down to your deathbed
And I'll stand o'er your grave
'Til I'm sure that you're dead
The master grabs the yellow notebook and begins jotting down a few lines. The guitar waits patiently, for it knows that the master always uses him and the notebook together. As plain as bread and
---
butter and as sweet as peanut butter and jelly. After a little while, just like clockwork, the notebook is set
aside and the inevitable happens. A quick tuning and he's off. "What'd he write, can you see?" asks the
guitar, even though he'll be one of the first ones to hear. To which the notebook responds, "It's kinda hard
to see considering everything's upside down but it looks like it says..." At that very instance the master
begins strumming along and starts singing softly:
Close your eyes, close the door
You don't have to worry any more.
I'll be your baby tonight.
"Boy, were we off!" shouts the guitar, over the loud playing. "Sounds like a happy song."
After a quick cigarette and a half of joint the master begins to think to himself. He wonders to
himself if all of the pain and sacrifice of all his endless nights of writing and playing are worth
it. He wonders what will fill the next blank page. He remembers the night he turned heads as his audience
watched (some in anger that he "sold out" and others in enjoyment) as he magically blended folk and
rock into one. He remembers the boos, the cheers, and all the fans over the years. A smile is brought to
his face as he thinks of going from playing in corner coffee shops in New York all the way to the big time.
He thinks of the night in the Chelsea Hotel writing "Sad-eyed Lady of the lowlands" for his wife Sarah.
The master sits back in his chair, puts his feet on the table and stares at his pen. He stares deliberately at
his pen as if looking for inspiration. The pens screams out inaudibly, "I love you, man!" But alas. The
master cannot hear these words of love, though, he just continues staring at the pen.
The master then begins thinking about his almost fateful motorcycle crash and begins humming
something about "knocking on heaven's door". The old, rusty razor yells with pride, "He used me that
night, my God! I didn't sleep for a week!" The notebook, always of good humor, responds, "HELL, you
could have killed him right there!" The master is always the center of attention in this room, as you might
expect. Of course, being the greatest of all time can have that effect on people, er... things.
As the master was about to take a little rest he began to pick up a magazine in which he has been
quoted. He ponders the ups and downs of being famous and all of the expectations that come with it. He
---
reads his dialogue from an article about him, "You can't try to come up with songs that people will think
is all hip and cool, you have to write for yourself. There are too many phonies out there and all the one hit
wonders. They come up with a gimmick catch phrase, write some mumbo jumbo and the people love it.
Six months later they've blown all their dough and the fans never even knew who they were."
As he gazes out the window at the pouring rain out side the master wonders again who exactly he is
writing for, who are the ones who really enjoy his work. He doesn't realize that his biggest fan is sitting
right here in this room, it is actually his guitar. The two make a marvelous pair, not unlike the guitar and
the notebook.
Sometimes in this world in which we live in things are not always what they seem. This is the
reason that the master continues with his work- to explain the unseen, to show what is right, what is pure
and true and consequentially, what is wrong and needs to be changed. So with his aging face, fading voice
and wearing guitar he carries on with no direction home, like a rolling stone. He knows how it feels to
have to seek shelter from the storm. He is aware that the times they are a'changing and he's spreading the
word to the uninformed. With that thought he begins to sing a few verses from one of his songs:
Stake my future on a hell of a past
Looks like tomorrow is coming on fast
Ain't complainin' 'bout what I got
Seen better times but who has not....
The guitar understands the master's thoughts as they have been partners for many years. If not for
anyone else, he has been touched by their many nights together. The guitar has experienced what life
outside the room is like through the master's music and is happy inside the dry, warm room. For the master
has predicted that a hard rain's gonna fall and when you're made of wood you can't really hold an umbrella
can you?
As the master is getting ready to lay down for a night's rest he happens to realize that he was
sitting on one of his albums: SELF PORTRAIT by Bob Dylan. And on that note he falls asleep contently
remembering what someone once said to him, "Don't think twice, it's alright."
Item 1831
MY (DAD'S) GENERATION
A stapled document of printed white paper showing signs of age, with handwritten text in ink and green marker.
- Why it matters
- Tom writes thison file: muse MICHELLE
- Type
- Handwritten sheet
- Collection
- Tom writes this
- Published in
- PREVIOUSLY UNPUBLISHEDSearched against the 34 albums, every book and Poems By Tom - found in none of them
Price · Tier · Tom fills these
Picture 1 of 7
Picture 2 of 7
Picture 3 of 7
Picture 4 of 7
Picture 5 of 7
Picture 6 of 7
Picture 7 of 7
The words on this page
Scanned
4
MY (DAD'S) GENERATION
Tom Jensen
Advanced Writing
Professor Bochynski
September 30, 2002
---
My heroes are dying. There is no real way to sugar coat something as
powerful as that. Half of the Beatles are dead. Jim Morrison, Hendrix, Joplin,
Cobain, Presley (the young one), Marley - the list goes on... My daily routine
involves checking the obituaries to see which of my favorite performers is no
longer performing. Often when I am daydreaming in my truck or in the classroom
I ponder who will be next? There are so many candidates to choose from but I've
narrowed down my top five to:
1. Keith Richards
2. Bob Dylan
3. David Bowie
4. Roger Waters
5. David Crosby
It's a little sick and twisted, I know, but that's just the way my mind works. I never
put anyone on this list from The Who, yet bass player John Entwistle passed
away just about a month ago and drummer Keith Moon died what seems like a
lifetime ago. You just never know when it's your time to go. My heart goes out to
the families of anyone who has left this earth but I admit that the thought of the
possibility of lead singer Roger Daltrey or singer and composer Pete Townshend
dying instead of John Entwistle was deeply saddening. The defense mechanism
of "can't wait 'til next year because they might not be here" turns on. So here I
am at the Tweeter Center in Mansfield, Mass. I'm three hours early. Half of the
original members of The Who are now part of the house band in Heaven, but on
this side of the clouds the show goes on and the spirit lives for at least one more
night. It's raining, but only on the outside.
---
Who is
michelle to
you?
How does she
feel re: the
atmosphere
"Hey, look at the two love birds in there. You're all set."
"Thanks brother," I responded, "Oh yeah, I feel just like Noah. I'm ready
for the flood." And on that note we were ready to settle into what was going to be
our living quarters for the next three hours. Michelle sat in the bed of my truck as
I added a few modifications for comfort, convenience and dryness. Michelle
watched in amazement as I unveiled my creation previously hiding beneath a
secured blue tarp. In a matter of a minute I had nailed together the prefabricated
frame for our tent and proceeded to secure the two large tarps I had brought.
There was no way that we were going to sit in the cab of the truck all afternoon if
it rained so we needed a way to stay dry. By luck, I just happen to know a thing
or two about carpentry and have a ladder rack welded onto the bed of my truck.
Add to the list a hammer, 10 nails, a screw gun and a few pieces of seven foot
strapping and with a little creativity we had our little foxhole. It felt like
camping...only with eighteen thousand other campers.
Michelle set up our folding beach chairs as I searched my plump backpack
for cookies. When I get the munchies I love cookies. Many say that well
preparedness and having good organizational skills are the keys to enjoying a
concert. Michelle and I decided to test this theory by bringing an exotic lunch of
peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, goldfish, muffins, diet root beer and cookies.
We sat in our foxhole eating lunch and playing Scrabble while watching the
parking lot slowly fill with people.
---
[Handwritten: clarity drugs?? unable.]
These are my people. The first thing that grabs your attention is all of the red and blue cups that people are holding. No Starbucks cups to be found. No pretentiousness, either. Everybody's got a beer and a smile. State law regulates that open containers of alcohol are prohibited but the unwritten rule is that as long as you hide your alcohol you may drink as much as you want. As you look off towards the outskirts of the paved parking lot you find that The Who fans are really in tune with nature. You'll find many of them going back and forth into the surrounding woods, generally in groups from two to five. My first thought when I noticed this was that they appreciate Mother Earth. Later I came to realize that the bicycle cops had begun riding around.
There was decidedly more security in the parking lot this year than there had been two years ago when I had originally seen The Who. This was a small matter, for Michelle and I may have been the only two people in the whole lot who weren't indulging in alcohol. We had our cookies. "That's not a word," I said, as Michelle attempted to put the letters Z O N E R on the Scrabble board. "Yes it is," she responded. "As in someone who figures out zones." What was I to do? We were playing no holds barred, which included proper names and swear words. I continued with my half-hearted plea by telling her that Z O N E R wasn't a word but that L O S E R was. She picked up the five pieces and took back the triple word score she thought she had gained. Scrabble was beginning to create
---
some tension between us so we decided that we had better walk towards the woods.
As we walked between the rows of cars and towards the far off trees we listened to the sounds of the parking lot. It seemed that one out of every ten cars would have The Who's music playing. It almost seemed as though we were all working in an office and the parking lot was divided up into cubicles, each containing about ten or fifteen cars. Each section of the parking lot was jamming to different albums. We made a brief stop at a gray Volvo playing Babara O'Reilly and commented on how much we liked the young woman's shoes, which displayed the British flag above her toes. British flags were everywhere, much like the blue and red cups. We paused at a yellow Volkswagen to dance to Pinball Wizard and again proceeded off towards the woods. We passed people from every walk of life on our way to the woods. Proletariats, mostly - the working class heroes who Pete and Roger represented. We had a voice and our voice was still able to speak. Teenagers played catch with a football as their parents cooked hamburgers and sausages. Mothers gave their cell phones to their daughters just in case they were to become separated once inside. The typical Bostonian attitude of walking with one's head down had been left at home on this afternoon. Strangers exchanged pleasantries and shared what they had with their fellow tailgaters. Deep conversations ensued over the state of today's music scene. Although nobody came right out and said it, you could tell that if the world
[Handwritten note next to "Pinball Wizard": nice!]
---
was going to end then this is where everyone wanted to spend his or her last
hours.
Michelle's timid nature slowly began to fade as she realized that these
were her people, too. Working class people who had taken this Friday off from
work in order to brave the elements and return to a better time in history - the
60's. Keith Moon and John Entwistle were absent in body on this particular night
yet their presence was still felt. Ringo Starr's son had taken Keith's place on the
drums and though no one ever said anything directly about it you could sense the
changing of the guard beginning. I was here, a twenty-four year old kid listening
to the music of his parents' generation - the light having been seen and the torch
having been passed. There are no heroes of my generation for me to look up to.
Eminem does not speak for me. Music videos detract from the importance of the
message of the music. Shaking your ass is not a message I want to follow. So I
cling to what I know, to what my parents' knew, hoping that someday my children
will find someone to be their voice. We entered the woods feeling grateful to
know that there are still some people like us left in the world. We were happy to
know that there was still something left out there to unite us without having to
watch large buildings crumble to the ground. The steady rain began to subside
as we found a clearing about twenty feet into the woods. Michelle sat on downed
tree limb as I leaned against a large branch. We gazed into each other's eyes,
firmly believing that there was still some hope left in this sometimes-nasty world.
(Handwritten notes):
nice!
wow!
---
"Be polite. Pass it to the right. Don't Bogart that joint! All right now, do you feel
good? Let's go and see a show. Hey, where'd we leave those cookies?"
Lyrics?
or
your own
sentiments
1482
4
MY (DAD'S) GENERATION
Tom Jensen
Advanced Writing
Professor Bochynski
September 30, 2002
---
My heroes are dying. There is no real way to sugar coat something as
powerful as that. Half of the Beatles are dead. Jim Morrison, Hendrix, Joplin,
Cobain, Presley (the young one), Marley - the list goes on... My daily routine
involves checking the obituaries to see which of my favorite performers is no
longer performing. Often when I am daydreaming in my truck or in the classroom
I ponder who will be next? There are so many candidates to choose from but I've
narrowed down my top five to:
1. Keith Richards
2. Bob Dylan
3. David Bowie
4. Roger Waters
5. David Crosby
It's a little sick and twisted, I know, but that's just the way my mind works. I never
put anyone on this list from The Who, yet bass player John Entwistle passed
away just about a month ago and drummer Keith Moon died what seems like a
lifetime ago. You just never know when it's your time to go. My heart goes out to
the families of anyone who has left this earth but I admit that the thought of the
possibility of lead singer Roger Daltrey or singer and composer Pete Townshend
dying instead of John Entwistle was deeply saddening. The defense mechanism
of "can't wait 'til next year because they might not be here" turns on. So here I
am at the Tweeter Center in Mansfield, Mass. I'm three hours early. Half of the
original members of The Who are now part of the house band in Heaven, but on
this side of the clouds the show goes on and the spirit lives for at least one more
night. It's raining, but only on the outside.
---
Who is
michelle to
you?
How does she
feel re: the
atmosphere
"Hey, look at the two love birds in there. You're all set."
"Thanks brother," I responded, "Oh yeah, I feel just like Noah. I'm ready
for the flood." And on that note we were ready to settle into what was going to be
our living quarters for the next three hours. Michelle sat in the bed of my truck as
I added a few modifications for comfort, convenience and dryness. Michelle
watched in amazement as I unveiled my creation previously hiding beneath a
secured blue tarp. In a matter of a minute I had nailed together the prefabricated
frame for our tent and proceeded to secure the two large tarps I had brought.
There was no way that we were going to sit in the cab of the truck all afternoon if
it rained so we needed a way to stay dry. By luck, I just happen to know a thing
or two about carpentry and have a ladder rack welded onto the bed of my truck.
Add to the list a hammer, 10 nails, a screw gun and a few pieces of seven foot
strapping and with a little creativity we had our little foxhole. It felt like
camping...only with eighteen thousand other campers.
Michelle set up our folding beach chairs as I searched my plump backpack
for cookies. When I get the munchies I love cookies. Many say that well
preparedness and having good organizational skills are the keys to enjoying a
concert. Michelle and I decided to test this theory by bringing an exotic lunch of
peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, goldfish, muffins, diet root beer and cookies.
We sat in our foxhole eating lunch and playing Scrabble while watching the
parking lot slowly fill with people.
---
[Handwritten: clarity drugs?? unable.]
These are my people. The first thing that grabs your attention is all of the red and blue cups that people are holding. No Starbucks cups to be found. No pretentiousness, either. Everybody's got a beer and a smile. State law regulates that open containers of alcohol are prohibited but the unwritten rule is that as long as you hide your alcohol you may drink as much as you want. As you look off towards the outskirts of the paved parking lot you find that The Who fans are really in tune with nature. You'll find many of them going back and forth into the surrounding woods, generally in groups from two to five. My first thought when I noticed this was that they appreciate Mother Earth. Later I came to realize that the bicycle cops had begun riding around.
There was decidedly more security in the parking lot this year than there had been two years ago when I had originally seen The Who. This was a small matter, for Michelle and I may have been the only two people in the whole lot who weren't indulging in alcohol. We had our cookies. "That's not a word," I said, as Michelle attempted to put the letters Z O N E R on the Scrabble board. "Yes it is," she responded. "As in someone who figures out zones." What was I to do? We were playing no holds barred, which included proper names and swear words. I continued with my half-hearted plea by telling her that Z O N E R wasn't a word but that L O S E R was. She picked up the five pieces and took back the triple word score she thought she had gained. Scrabble was beginning to create
---
some tension between us so we decided that we had better walk towards the woods.
As we walked between the rows of cars and towards the far off trees we listened to the sounds of the parking lot. It seemed that one out of every ten cars would have The Who's music playing. It almost seemed as though we were all working in an office and the parking lot was divided up into cubicles, each containing about ten or fifteen cars. Each section of the parking lot was jamming to different albums. We made a brief stop at a gray Volvo playing Babara O'Reilly and commented on how much we liked the young woman's shoes, which displayed the British flag above her toes. British flags were everywhere, much like the blue and red cups. We paused at a yellow Volkswagen to dance to Pinball Wizard and again proceeded off towards the woods. We passed people from every walk of life on our way to the woods. Proletariats, mostly - the working class heroes who Pete and Roger represented. We had a voice and our voice was still able to speak. Teenagers played catch with a football as their parents cooked hamburgers and sausages. Mothers gave their cell phones to their daughters just in case they were to become separated once inside. The typical Bostonian attitude of walking with one's head down had been left at home on this afternoon. Strangers exchanged pleasantries and shared what they had with their fellow tailgaters. Deep conversations ensued over the state of today's music scene. Although nobody came right out and said it, you could tell that if the world
[Handwritten note next to "Pinball Wizard": nice!]
---
was going to end then this is where everyone wanted to spend his or her last
hours.
Michelle's timid nature slowly began to fade as she realized that these
were her people, too. Working class people who had taken this Friday off from
work in order to brave the elements and return to a better time in history - the
60's. Keith Moon and John Entwistle were absent in body on this particular night
yet their presence was still felt. Ringo Starr's son had taken Keith's place on the
drums and though no one ever said anything directly about it you could sense the
changing of the guard beginning. I was here, a twenty-four year old kid listening
to the music of his parents' generation - the light having been seen and the torch
having been passed. There are no heroes of my generation for me to look up to.
Eminem does not speak for me. Music videos detract from the importance of the
message of the music. Shaking your ass is not a message I want to follow. So I
cling to what I know, to what my parents' knew, hoping that someday my children
will find someone to be their voice. We entered the woods feeling grateful to
know that there are still some people like us left in the world. We were happy to
know that there was still something left out there to unite us without having to
watch large buildings crumble to the ground. The steady rain began to subside
as we found a clearing about twenty feet into the woods. Michelle sat on downed
tree limb as I leaned against a large branch. We gazed into each other's eyes,
firmly believing that there was still some hope left in this sometimes-nasty world.
(Handwritten notes):
nice!
wow!
---
"Be polite. Pass it to the right. Don't Bogart that joint! All right now, do you feel
good? Let's go and see a show. Hey, where'd we leave those cookies?"
Lyrics?
or
your own
sentiments
1482
Item 1894
UNTITLED - first line: Mary, FUCK! I've NEVER Been this messed up before in my life. I Convinced myself I was over you before I really was. I told Corey it was cool for h...
Lined, three-hole punched notebook paper written in ink with some staining.
- Why it matters
- Tom writes thison file: muse MICHELLE
- Type
- Handwritten sheet
- Collection
- Tom writes this
- Published in
- PREVIOUSLY UNPUBLISHEDSearched against the 34 albums, every book and Poems By Tom - found in none of them
Price · Tier · Tom fills these
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The words on this page
Mary, FUCK! I've NEVER Been this messed up before in my life. I Convinced myself I was over you before I really was. I told Corey it was cool for him to do whatever he wanted to in regards to you. Now, my insides are turning to knots and my HEAD is spinning. I can't deal. I'm not even sure the Beatles can help me. Say a prayer for Sgt. Pepper. Pardon me for rambling. I love John Lennon! I'm fucked. IF I watch you kiss Corey or Corey kiss you one more time I'm biting my arms off. IF you get together and break up, my life is turned upside down. You take, you won't let go. I'm too good of a friend to Corey to let you ever Fuck him over, I've seen what you can do to guys. My sanity and Corey's is worth not having your friendship. I'd fight Tyson if Corey asked me to. Maybe this is all bullshit that I'm saying because I'm pissed at myself for saying that about Michelle. I don't care, FUCK EVERYONE! If you're like what you were like at Denny's and
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Country Q with me every time you're with Corey I'll never talk to you again. I DONT get blown off by my best friend, besides good boy #1, just because they're with someone, That sucks more than what's in my vocabulary. It burns! I'm not a strong person. Sometimes I need my friends more than most people. I love you but I just can't smile. It kills me that my love is more than sisterly at sometimes, O.K. one day my head's cool-sisterly, next day-wait a minute, I think I love Mary more than I love myself. I love myself. I love my self ALOT. This is unfair to you and Corey, though, what I'm being like, I can't stand either of you getting hurt and if you hurt each other, oh shit, Please be staight up with me, You kept saying you didn't like Corey like that and I trusted you. I've been thrown for a loop, Funny, Tanya and Michelle are so far from my head now. Bang, Bing, Boom... gone. My In Love with Mary Phase is in full effect. Alexis is a GREAT kid, I love her, like HedgeDog loves me, Platonic Baby! I often want to be a purely Platonic Person. Sucks to be me, Rubbed in my face like shit.
---
Like, mmm... right now. Who knows how long I've loved you. You know I love you still, will f wait a lonely lifetime? If you want me to I will. Love you forever and forever. Love you with all my heart. Love you when we're apart. Shit I'm droppin bombs in your ears. Of all the reasons I couldn't get with/stay with Michelle, You were on top. I'd see your face whenever I was with her. Story of my life; I love Mary, Mary loves Corey (maybe), Corey loves me. THREESOME! just Lingeling with ya! ha ha! I'm even stupidly, funnily dumb when I'm heavily thinking slash depressed, When I and Corey wrote that love letter to Heather, I helped, it was easy, I substituted my name for Corey's and yours for Heather's, It flowed like chocolate syrup on chocolate pancakes at Bickford's. If I'm fucking with your head at all I'm sorry. I wouldn't want to with the bet on whether or not your head is able to be fucked withor not. The girl I love and my best friend, sucks to be me. Rubbed in my face like shit.
---
Country Q with me every time you're with Corey I'll never talk to you again. I DONT get blown off by my best friend, besides good boy #1, just because they're with someone, That sucks more than what's in my vocabulary. It burns! I'm not a strong person. Sometimes I need my friends more than most people. I love you but I just can't smile. It kills me that my love is more than sisterly at sometimes, O.K. one day my head's cool-sisterly, next day-wait a minute, I think I love Mary more than I love myself. I love myself. I love my self ALOT. This is unfair to you and Corey, though, what I'm being like, I can't stand either of you getting hurt and if you hurt each other, oh shit, Please be staight up with me, You kept saying you didn't like Corey like that and I trusted you. I've been thrown for a loop, Funny, Tanya and Michelle are so far from my head now. Bang, Bing, Boom... gone. My In Love with Mary Phase is in full effect. Alexis is a GREAT kid, I love her, like HedgeDog loves me, Platonic Baby! I often want to be a purely Platonic Person. Sucks to be me, Rubbed in my face like shit.
---
Like, mmm... right now. Who knows how long I've loved you. You know I love you still, will f wait a lonely lifetime? If you want me to I will. Love you forever and forever. Love you with all my heart. Love you when we're apart. Shit I'm droppin bombs in your ears. Of all the reasons I couldn't get with/stay with Michelle, You were on top. I'd see your face whenever I was with her. Story of my life; I love Mary, Mary loves Corey (maybe), Corey loves me. THREESOME! just Lingeling with ya! ha ha! I'm even stupidly, funnily dumb when I'm heavily thinking slash depressed, When I and Corey wrote that love letter to Heather, I helped, it was easy, I substituted my name for Corey's and yours for Heather's, It flowed like chocolate syrup on chocolate pancakes at Bickford's. If I'm fucking with your head at all I'm sorry. I wouldn't want to with the bet on whether or not your head is able to be fucked withor not. The girl I love and my best friend, sucks to be me. Rubbed in my face like shit.
Item 1957
UNITY
Lined spiral-bound notebook paper and small square paper cutouts.
- Why it matters
- Tom writes this
- Type
- Handwritten sheet
- Collection
- Tom writes thisthe old category list says: DEATH ; DEPRESSING ; LONELINESS & SOLITUDE ; RELATIONSHIPS (not checked by Tom)
- Published in
- ON THE 34 ALBUMSTrain Off the Tracks [S7] · as the song BETRAYALmatched on the words: three or more seven-word runs shared with that song
IN A BOOKThe November 2024 Collection (2024)
Tom Jensen Poem Anthology (2013)
Brian Rainstorm: Poetry Not Dead (2014)
Only The Best (2018)
A Lifetime Of Rhyme (2020)
The 714-Page Book (2012)
The Laima Dedication Anthology (2011)
34 Albums, Books 1 and 2 (2026)
Revised 31 Albums With Index (2024) - Age when written
- written by age 33 at the latestdated from the earliest book it appears in - the sheet itself may be older
Price · Tier · Tom fills these
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These words are a machine reading of the photograph, not a clean transcription. Read the picture.
The words on this page
Justin JUSTICE music and vocals
1 WaterFleshAndBone
2 LetDown
3 OneSlipOfTheKnife
4 CleanWipeToTheSlate
5 RightBetweenTheEyes
6 TheNatureOfMan
7 Unity
8 HereAndNow
9 WhatWeShare
BreakingHerHeart
Rainy
DaySunshine
12 DeadEnd
13 Fresco
14 LastCupOfCoffee
15 LittleBird
UNITY
Tom Jensen lyrics
MarriedToSomethingElse
17 InThePouringRain
---
Jade
(978) 744-3360
Dec Judy 200 phone credit 200 1200
Jan Judy 200 phone credit 200 1200
Feb Judy 200 phone credit 200 1200
March Judy 200 phone credit 200 1200
April Judy 200 phone credit 200 1200
1,000 1,000
5,000
1,000 credit
300
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---
[Top of left page]
He was twice her size
She was at least half his age
He bruised her insides
[crossed out text]
Her own blood ram down her face
And his seed was sewn
She carries the child like a disease
But what if when baby has grown
Rapist's eyes are all she sees
What will her friends say
What wild rumors will be spread
Where lies her escape?
These thoughts run 'round in her head
[Bottom left page]
Itunes
will convert
.wav ->
mp3.
[Top right page]
Coming of Fall
What lies ahead
[Right page body]
S
[5] I [crossed out text] was more than half his age
S
[7] He bruised my insides
And I got blood on my face
S
[7] And his seed was sown
[crossed out text] lives inside of me
S
[7] What if when he's grown
[crossed out text] rapist's eyes are all I see
S
[7] What will my friends say?
What wild rumors will spread?
[5] [crossed out text] my escape?
Where lies
scattered thoughts run 'round in her head
[Bottom right page]
[circled]
[circled] G W B A Q
Watch? v =
youtube.com/
http://www.
---
He was twice her size
She was at least half his age
He bruised her insides
And [?]
Her own blood ran down her face
And his seed was sewn
She carries the child like a disease
But What if when baby has grown
Rapist's eyes are all she sees
What will her friends say
What wild rumors will be spread
Where lies her escape?
These thoughts run 'round in her head
* iTunes
will convert
.wav ->
mp3.
---
[Hand-drawn number cards, top to bottom: 7, 5, 9, 1]
[Page text, oriented sideways:]
Change to
↓
why should you care
Do → change
to rhyme
Mistakes are
forgotten ↓
2nd Ryming
verse
31561
30823
29965
704 366 0923
choose
I would be the one to see
2:35 → I can't
heal
4:00 → I am
Chained
Hater
1 WaterFleshAndBone
2 LetDown
3 OneSlipOfTheKnife
4 CleanWipeToTheSlate
5 RightBetweenTheEyes
6 TheNatureOfMan
7 Unity
8 HereAndNow
9 WhatWeShare
BreakingHerHeart
Rainy
DaySunshine
12 DeadEnd
13 Fresco
14 LastCupOfCoffee
15 LittleBird
UNITY
Tom Jensen lyrics
MarriedToSomethingElse
17 InThePouringRain
---
Jade
(978) 744-3360
Dec Judy 200 phone credit 200 1200
Jan Judy 200 phone credit 200 1200
Feb Judy 200 phone credit 200 1200
March Judy 200 phone credit 200 1200
April Judy 200 phone credit 200 1200
1,000 1,000
5,000
1,000 credit
300
20 | 6000
6000
---
[Top of left page]
He was twice her size
She was at least half his age
He bruised her insides
[crossed out text]
Her own blood ram down her face
And his seed was sewn
She carries the child like a disease
But what if when baby has grown
Rapist's eyes are all she sees
What will her friends say
What wild rumors will be spread
Where lies her escape?
These thoughts run 'round in her head
[Bottom left page]
Itunes
will convert
.wav ->
mp3.
[Top right page]
Coming of Fall
What lies ahead
[Right page body]
S
[5] I [crossed out text] was more than half his age
S
[7] He bruised my insides
And I got blood on my face
S
[7] And his seed was sown
[crossed out text] lives inside of me
S
[7] What if when he's grown
[crossed out text] rapist's eyes are all I see
S
[7] What will my friends say?
What wild rumors will spread?
[5] [crossed out text] my escape?
Where lies
scattered thoughts run 'round in her head
[Bottom right page]
[circled]
[circled] G W B A Q
Watch? v =
youtube.com/
http://www.
---
He was twice her size
She was at least half his age
He bruised her insides
And [?]
Her own blood ran down her face
And his seed was sewn
She carries the child like a disease
But What if when baby has grown
Rapist's eyes are all she sees
What will her friends say
What wild rumors will be spread
Where lies her escape?
These thoughts run 'round in her head
* iTunes
will convert
.wav ->
mp3.
---
[Hand-drawn number cards, top to bottom: 7, 5, 9, 1]
[Page text, oriented sideways:]
Change to
↓
why should you care
Do → change
to rhyme
Mistakes are
forgotten ↓
2nd Ryming
verse
31561
30823
29965
704 366 0923
choose
I would be the one to see
2:35 → I can't
heal
4:00 → I am
Chained
Hater