: About Me

I am sixty-five years old and still involved in medical research and theory. My interest in medical research began while attending Stanford University in the early sixties. I was diagnosed as having bipolar disorder or as it was called then, manic-depressive illness. Since, at that time, no treatment existed I began a life-long study of the disease, its causes and possible ways to treat its devastating symptomology.

Like many bipolar patients I had a core love of writing, specifically, poetry. My scholorship to Stanford was a creative writing scholorship. While attending college in 1966, winter semester, I received my draft notice. I was taking only twelve credit hours that semester and fell below "full time student status" which automatically made me eligible for the draft.

I went through OCS and became a ninetty day wonder or second lieutenant in the US Army. I spent eighteen months in SE Asia as a linguist and liason officer to the Republic Of Korea Marines stationed in Vietnam. I also picked up Vietnamese while there so I was kept very busy in that war based on a lie.

I quit writing poetry when I returned but have recently gone back to my love of creating verse and thought this site may broaden my exposure to creative publishing as opposed to the strict constraints of medical journal and scientific journal publishing.

Thank you for reading my poetry in advance. tom

My passion is ...

poetry and family

I know too much about ...

medical subjects

My parents always told me ...

stop it

My childhood ambition ...

to be james dean

My favorite memory ...

i forgot

Why I write ...

genetically wired

What I am reading/watching/listening to ...

cormac mccarthy's Blood Meridian

My first job ...

writing the Iowa Funeral Directors monthly newsletter

My best moment ...

when i married my wife

My inspiration ...

my wife

Creative Writing > Poetry Poetry: Drug addiction

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- I am the man who has a plan To fill your life with ecstasy. My little pills will give you thrills And rid you of complexity. Some fan the flame that I'm to blame For all the service I provide. But I supply and seed the need, I don't create your suicide. Like all good things that commerce brings, I merely claim my right of trade. I give you this, a gift of bliss, Though I admit the bliss will fade. Now look at me, what do you see? I am no monster from afar! I am your doctor, proctor, priest, A face to grace your local bar. And when you stare in mirror fair, What is reflected back so true?...

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