Reprint and update of Review Not Previously Posted in Book Readers Heaven - First Novel by Thomas T. Kemp

 

The Clouds are high and moving fast..
The woods across the road stand tall,
but they're as naked and as cold as the night I last saw you
The road from here to where you stay
seems so long and far away.
I have put too much distance between us
since the night I last saw you.
Winter is howling and holding on.
My bird feeder needs replenishing each morning
as I am afraid the birds will not make it through the day.
I want them here this spring if it ever comes.
It has been so long since the night I last saw you.
I am coming with the highest cloud tonight.
I am going to fly up over the roads and leave winter for a while.
It has been too long since the night I last saw you.
~~~

How many times do you find a book that excites you, that intrigues and yet leaves you wanting more--Well, I found it!

This book, The Road From Here to Where You Stay by Thomas Kemp, is the best action book I've read in many, many years. Perhaps it was because the author lived along with me; i.e., he'd be around the same age; only the author left the US for Vietnam , while I began to work back in the early '60's. This book demanded ongoing attention, once I started to read...and it is definitely one I will reread many times! Not a usual activity for me.

Do you remember when the announcement was made about the assassination of John Kennedy? I remember I was in my office where I was working at a local university. Thomas Camp, who was already in the marines had already been to Vietnam when our President was shot. Thomas, a native of Ohio, becomes very real to the reader, as he tells the story of his career...as a trained killer for the US Government. Thomas tells the story as if he were sharing it with you personally; and he talks to each of us, as he moves from story to story, reliving each memory so that we, too, become a character.

Thomas Camp, based upon a set of tests administered when he entered the Marines, was designated for special service. He was to use his special talents of almost a photographic memory and an exceptional memory for details, but also to later become a "marker" for the US Government.

Thomas entered the service at the age of 17; and his fellow Marines determined that, as a young virgin, he needs to be introduced to, the ultimately named prostitute, Jewelko. But, young Thomas surprises the older woman with his gentleness and his words, and Jewelko and Thomas fall in love. 

The touch of gratification she offered was electric and instant. She, on the other hand, held herself back. I searched for her favor while grasping for the bend of her body. That let me feel the hesitancy she would only now begin to shed as heat came from the surface of her wet glowing skin. Then came the almost involuntary flow of moisture and the emitting sounds of her confessions of love for me. She had held back the feeling of loving so long. Now I had to do so little, just hold and touch her; and the  happiness and joy of life resulted in laughter that ran from her lips and embraced our souls. The rest of my perception of what could have been was to be placed away, time was running out for us...

Age Difference

There is this disparity between us

    But it is only in my mind that the

Dissimilarity lives

Our age difference . . .

You are a young man

But very manly in the way you treated me

You are wise beyond the years God has given

Your wisdom shines

It does not change my feeling for you

You will always be in my future

And an important ingredient of everyday

There are many sad circumstances for us all

These things we can often dispel with

The credits we build up in our relationships with others.

The qualities in us mirror and reflect

All the goodness And create a home in our souls

Where love stays. 

This love is not offered as payment 

for our goodness to others

But it is given as hope and faith

In the present and the morrow

This love may look back

But it will not go back

Love does not ride the tops of the waves

But rather rests in the depths of its

Own pleasure of giving.

This love you gave to me willingly. 

Love will always outshine the physical part

Of the day the earth moves, and the sun stays still

And shines over everyone

Yet even in darkness, I can sense the love

Which holds the warmth of the Summer of our lives

Love will shape you, and the polishing

Of your spirit will glow past the day's end

And into the next world. 

Yes, I love you still and cry over the words

You pull from my heart when I think

What could have been possible...

~~~

Once in awhile, Jewelko reappears in Thomas's memories, through the letters she wrote to him; but major events, including the assassination of John Kennedy and President Diem of Vietnam, bring about a major role for Thomas--one which he has hidden, as mandated by presidential orders, for more than 30 years.

Remember that Lyndon Johnson became president upon the death of John Kennedy. Remember also that many claimed that his murderer was killed immediately there in Texas. But many wondered and questioned and could not believe it. Now you will find out why you questioned. Now, as you meet Thomas, you will see a plausible alternative, that the US Government had those, who really murdered Kennedy, actually trained by Thomas to be able to accomplish this feat. You will visit Texas and review the facts and understand how the assassination was committed. Then you will live through many, many years while Thomas tracks down the six men, on behalf of, and as ordered by...president(s).

Thomas shared much of the pain and anguish of those who felt abandoned there in Vietnam. He shares how his hand moved to kill, because dying would be better than the torture being endured by those he killed. And, he shares how he tracked down those marked to be killed, those he hunted in response to direct orders.

Why? Why does he decide to share this story? For many years, Thomas has lived in Ohio. He married and became a father and the past fades--until a young girl enters his life. She is a young girl who was raped and indoctrinated to a wild life and she weaves a spell around Thomas until he is addicted, addicted to who he later comes to refer to as "his angel of death." Jean Marie's life and love brings back memories of his past life, in such vivid detail, that Thomas begins to relive his role as a personal vigilante, deciding that he must now hunt down and kill the men who raped and sodomized his lover.

This book combines sex, love, death, murder, and war in a combination that normally would be offensive and unbearable, except that the reader continues to visualize Thomas, as that very young officer--the good guy following orders and trying to save mankind. And, in the end, Thomas Camp can be nothing else than a knight in shining armor, still trying to save the world.

Needless to say, I recommend this book to all who have an interest in "life-time" history, fiction based on the history happening at that time...all those who enjoy "on the edge" action...and those who enjoy seeing the "good guy" win. But has he? Only you can judge.

 I must alert you that you may find that some historical facts are not correctly presented. Indeed, the book moves continuously from one time to another and may be hard to follow at times. It is very long and includes poetry that may break the reader's attention. There are several themes running at the same time, mostly via flashbacks. To me, these issues were not disruptive; however, to other readers, they may be. Still, I have to admit that I loved it and recommend it highly...especially if you were young and involved during the war in Vietnam...


GABixlerReviews

Thomas Kemp, a Fascinating, Passionate Storyteller, Presents Second in Series, The House on High Bridge Road...

“OH NO !” Her lips form the words silently, until her brain catches up. She screams, hushing the room. All eyes follow hers outside the observation window where fire engines and ambulances race to the smoking fiery debris of the airplane that just took off minutes before. The Sony TV blares into the silent room, “Our CNN affiliate in New York is telling us there has been unconfirmed reports out of Kennedy Airport and that Flight 800, TWA 747 bound for Paris France, has disappeared from radar, east of Long Island minutes ago. We are already receiving reports that a plane blew up and has fallen into the Atlantic. Stay with CNN for more about this tragedy, wait, yes, it is confirmed, a TWA 747, Flight 800 has crashed miles out in the Atlantic.” 

Arlene, shaking , feels Thomas’s hand on hers. The rest of her is numb. Millions and millions of thoughts are charging the room, the Airport and the country. Thomas claims two of those thoughts, “I was supposed to be on that plane and it blew up!” and “Terrorism!” Within moments, every television station in the country was speculating what went wrong and how could this happen. Close to the canyon walls off the Atlantic coastline, Thomas sees the Angel of Death hiding her smiling face in the deep sea. 

It appeared as if the airplane had both wings blown off. An eyewitness had seen a fireball falling somewhere off the coast of Long Island. Whatever happened? Both of them sat in shock as they realized both were just spared. Arlene spoke first, “I remember you now. Death follows you wherever you go. She must love you.” Her disposition suddenly changes and the bartender and other patrons glare at her when she yells, “Hey, I was suppose to be on that plane! I deserve a free drink!”

Thomas was studying Arlene’s hands, nice and warm. She stunned him with her remark. If cold hands indicate a warm heart, what do warm hands mean? Her cold and cutting demand most likely came from shock; he could not believe she could be that heartless and self-centered . The danger he saw in her eyes earlier overcame the warmth he had imagined. Was he like a mosquito, risking his life for a warm place to land? Arlene pulls her hands out of his and begins searching and meandering for everything on the tabletop. Her fingernails are plain, nothing fancy or loud . She is five foot seven or eight with short blond hair, touched up some to hide the gray. Her skin’s too soft and smooth for a woman her age and her body screams to be touched. Arlene has enough ammunition to lure most men and Thomas senses she uses it. 

Later that night, she proved him right. She sent her driver home and they wound up on her attractive couch in the middle of her television show’s sound stage office. Although he knew, he asked who she was to be able to afford her own driver and limo but didn’t wait to find out as their bodies linked. 

Arlene purred and rubbed
 her leg up and down his,
“You sure know how
 to fix me, baby.” 

“My god man, don’t you know I am Arlene Stuyvesant? I met you at Jackie Kennedy’s house years ago; I lived right below her. You were some sort of repairman, but I knew the minute I saw you, you were not a fix-it man , at least not in that sense of the word. God does provide for us does he not, furnishes us with our daily bread and such. Look what he brought me tonight!” 

Thomas, having had enough of her patronizing, was unyielding to her request to spend the night. He got up, dressed, and started to leave. Arlene bounded from the large poster canopy bed as if she is a thirty year old and sets herself firmly in front of the door. Wanting a chance for at an armistice she says, “At least let me call you a cab and have someone take you home. It is dangerous out there this hour of the night for someone Death loves.” 

“Have someone take me home? My home is in Ohio but I promised I would go to Paris to meet my children and I am going tonight.” 

Oil and jet fuel will kill almost anything living near the surface of the water. Surprisingly, little was floating towards the beaches, to the warm places mosquitoes come to rest for the night. Close along the shoreline, a small pleasure yacht was motoring south of the city. The Statue of Liberty, lighting the way to freedom for millions of others, watches it pass by. Four men squat on the shoreline, mumbling to each other , scratching through bits of debris deposited there earlier that evening.

~~~

The House of High Bridge Road

Part Two of the Road From Here to Where You Stay

By Thomas T. Kemp

The thing you will most remember about Thomas Kemp's writings is his poetic passion... Somehow common verse becomes tender words of love and you, the reader, feel as if you are receiving his words--just you... Kemp is a brilliant storyteller. He merges his own life experiences and emotional responses with any given story he is sharing with you either through one poem, or through a novel. I read his first novel many years ago, but discovered while I was writing that my review had never been published at Book Readers Heaven...So, that will appear as a separate article! Do check it out!

Present Day: The phone in my pocket

 started its riotous chiming and startled me

 to a consciousness of sorts. 

“Hello this is Thomas Kemp.”

 Come back now, Thomas, I thought.

 I needed to be in the present.

 Someone wanted me. “Thomas, 

this is Terrace. Tell me, have you started

 on your new book yet?”

~~

One of the things I have always suggested to authors, when asked, is to select a photo and use it as your identifying brand, rather than some cute kitten or other icon. Thomas T. Kemp has learned this by using the same cover format on each of his latest poetry books and this second novel... It is easy for readers to place him in the role of the writer--of poetry or, in this case, the passionate scenes in his novels... Hey! I've been in love with him for years and even got my name in this book! Of course, all his other female fans feels that same emotion, so I'm not unique, LOL!

Kemp writes as if he were sitting across that picnic table on his patio at High Bridge Road, and telling you about his life...You begin to see a pattern--he loves women and they have always been woven into whatever else he might be writing. Read any of his poetry, and you will usually find an unknown female in it somewhere. But what makes this intriguing in his novels is that there is normally one primary female main character with whom he becomes involved... At the same time, this is surrounded by innuendo of his professional life and how and why that female is involved with that side of his life as well.

In this case, we meet Blythe Danner as Arlene Stuyvesant. Thomas Camp and Arlene met when both of them were kicked off a flight that had been overbooked...and wind up intimately together that same night...

The thing for readers is that we are not quite sure how he feels about Arlene. Was their meeting even just as coincidental as it seemed? There is an ongoing shuffle of different assignments he has had, together with some of the present life of the author. You will learn some of the names he has been assigned and/or used during his life. One thing you will quickly realize is that they are all the same. That is, his fiction, even his poetry, is fiction based upon his own life... Quite frankly, because of his poetry, it would be hard for readers not to be able to identify his wonderful style of writing, so he's accepted this and allowed his true self entry into the book in a few places...

I am trying to figure out whether

 my desire to give myself to you i

s selfish or unselfish. I lust for your

 words and hands and the sound of 

your voice brings a delicious ache

 to my breasts and belly. 

Lust is bearable, but longing is

difficult. 

I do not know what I’m longing for. 

Perhaps you do, perhaps you sense

 where my heart is hidden.

~~~

On the other hand, Arlene is quite fictional, the character being an internationally known advocate for animals who has built a successful career out of her personal love. Readers will learn why her emotions took second place in her life...

Until Thomas enters... Has she fallen in love with him? Really? If not, let's just say she has fallen in lust with him and Thomas is willing to accommodate her desires... Spends time thinking of how her life has changed since she they've been involved and writes to him...

The letter read: “Thomas, Nice things about Limos, some have laptops and printers. I decided not to go to Paris but to call and have my boys come home with me. I picked them up on the way over to the airport to find you. They brought me Portuguese bread from the Nantucket bakeshop, flour-dusted and fresh— sorry you missed it… the bread that is. So I’m here now in my office, inhaling the wonderful smell of yeast , feeling good and bad at the same time . Yes, I have two small sons but no spouse, their father lives out on Nantucket Island. I don’t think I will ever recover from the tragedy of the plane crash. I think my X would have liked it if I had been on the plane. I’m grateful to whatever force there may be that I was spared, but I feel guilty I was spared. Why was this privilege extended to me and not to the others? I remember the “prophet” saying we are all given 24 hours a day to spend, but it is apparent that one day, we will cash in early. I was granted another day and for this day, I feel joy and sadness. Feeling good and bad is a condition I find myself in often. Perhaps it is a prerequisite for serenity, feeling the dual nature of all human emotion and ultimately becoming comfortable with that duality. I am trying to hear the words behind your words last night; I know they must be there. You told me you did not want to break my heart, well, fear not— you first must find my heart in before you can break it!...

~~~

Scowling, the little lines above
 her lips were revealed as she
 tried to whisper, but
 immediately became too loud;
 “Thomas come back here!”
~~~

Soon Thomas was traveling to her home whenever they could get together. Being lovers was satisfactory for awhile, but Thomas was the one that always was doing the traveling--Arlene's schedule was always too busy... Still, their time together was always good and they've become close...

 He watches her eyelids close tightly as he whispers, “How do I say this any simpler? Do you know a ray of light that is so strong that it could still the illumination coming from your face right now? You are satisfied with my touch —I know that. My voice and words that I’d wrapped up so carefully, seem rusted and yet…” His lips stopped moving as the words dried up, their work done...
“Your body is so firm, the stern side like soft skin pulled tight over a rocker.” He moved even closer, dropping his voice, “I am the man who knows your secret strength. I know how much you always wanted to be…” 
Quickly putting her hand behind his head, she pulled him to her wet lips. They were almost stoic kisses at first and then she thought about what he had said and she began to trust he did know her secret. Her face gently roamed across his and back again a hundred times before she pulled away. Without missing a breath, he was back at her ear, “I know—it’s okay, I understand. I even like the feel of it on my mouth.”
 “How do you know so much about me so fast?”

~~~

Readers will be privy to stories of men Thomas has been assigned to kill, one of the latest being J. Edgar Hoover. There is mention, as I've said, that Thomas wants to meet Arlene's father. If you're an intuitive reader, you will have a potential reason for that, but, instead, Kemp sets up his readers and then drops us in the middle of what his assignment has and will continue to be... If you don't like to read books that leave you hanging, you've been warned.  

For me, however, I didn't mind because I know I'll be reading his next book just like I've read all of his books... You see, he's not only a favorite author, but has become a friend...

This book will appeal to romance novel readers as opposed to history buffs. There is insufficient detail in this book for more than, shall we say, establishing Camp's credentials as a military retiree for special projects (?)government(?) assassin... I'm wondering already about how and if Thomas can salvage the growing relationship with Arlene Stuyvesant if  it turns out her father is in the middle of the assignment Thomas is working on....

Which is more powerful--blood or love??? Can't wait to continue reading... Wonderful romantic suspense!

Highly recommended!

GABixlerReviews

Read reprinted, jazzed up review of the Debut Novel by Thomas Kemp coming next...

Your Poet Is: Thomas T. Kemp with "Triggers" during National Poetry Month...

Triggers: 

What makes you remember?

Loving her pie was so stress-free,

Even knowing I should not eat it,

But apple pie is wonderful.

And she made her own crust.

I did not discern what type the apples were…

Red, green, yellow.

Then I was over the moon in love and reminded.

When I was six years old my Great Aunt Mary,

baked two apple pies every week for Great Uncle Bill.

Uncle Bill was a carpenter who worked beside my Dad.

Father would take me to work on summer morning,

My job?

Pick up the scrap wood and put it in brown burlap sacks

for burning in the old cast iron wood stove.

At lunch time Dad would open his black lunch box,

Out came the sandwiches and veggies.

But, I could hardly contain myself for the opening,

of Uncle Bill’s large brown paper sack.

He always had a grocery store in it.

Most important was three pieces of apple pie.

Before I die I want to make pies,

The truth is dark red cherry is my favorite.

Thomas Kemp/poet

Your Poet Is Thomas Kemp Presents "Stormy Weather" Powerful Words During National Poetry Month

Stormy Weather

In those days my hopes were black and twisted

And only my night time dreams

traveled on a traditional course.

But, deep in my soul, 

knowing I could not make babies anymore

And give you the children you wanted badly,

You had to go out the door of my reveries.

You were taken away to be a mother

More than you were chosen to be my wife.

Love is simple and always true

you were to be a mother,

With all the details 

that goes with it,

I was not in that design.

Children can go on forever

 and me as a husband would have just been an indulgence.

The years have distributed to you two fine sons.

But, I have never forgotten you.

Thomas Kemp/poet

Thomas T. Kemp Shares New Poetry Book...

Poetry I Wrote For You



By Thomas T. Kemp





It seems like I've been reading Thomas' poetry forever... Well, it is well over five years since I met this online poet. At that time, you would often find Thomas in online poetry chat rooms and if you chanced to interact, you soon had a poem coming your way! It was surely his fans that suggested that he compile and publish a book. I've shared my thoughts on that first book. And now he has published another!

Thomas has a gift with words. I don't profess to be trained in poetry and I don't review poetry books often. But Thomas Kemp's words speak to me and will speak to you I believe. His words are beautifully presented and flow as if thoughts on the wind...

He writes of daily activities, but most of the time he's writing just for you... Oh yes, he might have written the poem years ago, but when YOU read it, it will come across as if he were sharing those very words with you. Let me illustrate:

The lawn mowing is finished,

a perfect time to sit and rest now, 

a home can be so demanding. 

My own sweat cools off my forehead and chest… 

with the help of a breath of breeze 

off the blue waters edge. 

Then in a moment on a summer's day,

 the gray and black gather 

and stir the soul of my green pond. 

A fussy white spider comes back

from patrol Across the springs 

of her trampoline web 

And we both discover each other 

before the coming storm. 

Come Love discover me before I go.

For instance, if I were reading the last line in the above poem, I would think it surely should have a little punctuation: Come, Love, discover me before I go. LOL Of course, it is correct as is, as he finishes his daily work and then turns to thoughts that he still wishes for love to enter his life. But, if you're like me, you will automatically think he's written the poem for you and seeks your love...

OK, I might be romanticizing his work a little and maybe you'll not feel that connection I do. But if you're curious about his poetry, just do a search on my blog to read some other selections he has allowed me to share at Book Readers Heaven...I think the key for poetry is whether you enjoy reading it. For me, it's like they say about art--I don't know much about it, but I know what I like... Thomas Kemp shares his life through his poetry. It's written simply, honestly, and openly. We may, of course, interpret it as the reader, and while we might read "seduction," and enjoy it that way, he is sharing a secret, special part of himself. You may come to know him as a friend, like I do, and never have any other interaction with him except through his words...

A truly gifted storyteller, his poems are simply short stories or part of a conversation he's having with you. Highly recommended... Oh, and he includes two excerpts from upcoming books!

Come, readers, discover me, Thomas T. Kemp... He wrote his poetry for you...

GABixlerReviews

About the Author:

Freely I admit my mind was a desert and I had no desire to write poetry. A desert can be beautiful I know, but my mind was without any separate place for green gardens or empty streambeds. I was just not interested in words. My one and only girlfriend had died at seventeen; killed in an automobile accident and I had become a devoid abandoned young man. It was as if I never had any attachment to a living thing and nothing could help ease my grief. Then one of her best girlfriends who had always accepted me and who had a gift for putting me at ease told me. She bluntly said to me, Nancy saw something in you Thomas. When we talked, she would tell us girls that you had a quality in your voice and it was like Poetry. Did I, it was kind of her to say so; it pulled me back from the sorrowful edges and help me to focus again. On a winter Sunday morning, I wrote my first poem. It was about burning an old Apple tree in a beautiful grand fireplace and going outside in the cold raw wind to watch the smoke come up the chimney. I guess that is when I learned that words are capable of healing as well as hurting us. Poetry chiseled away the pain word after word.

"Thomas Kemp is a sixty-seven year old divorced man and the father of two grown sons, a daughter, and two lovely daughter-in-law's. He started writing poetry for his own enjoyment when he was nineteen years old and a Marine stationed in the Far East. When asked what compelled a young service man to write poetry he would say “There was something inside of me that made me write every chance I got. I wrote on anything I could find in those days; napkins, coasters—you know, those ones made of paper—even tablecloths.” 

Thomas finally sat down long enough to write his first novel starting in 1993 which he finished and published in 1996—a book called The Road From Here To Where You Stay, a poetical thriller and love story woven within the murder plot of former President John F. Kennedy. Cleverly written to intrigue and seduce? Thomas, as Poet, clearly shows his ability to weave the violence of war and the murder of a president with cleverly placed poems and words whispered among the pages with loving grace and romance. Be enriched and enthralled and read the romantic words from a man who has become a familiar poet to many, who is today called…YOUR POET IS And POETRY I wrote FOR YOU"

Thomas Kemp's First Book of Poetry...

Your Poet IS: Poetry and You By Thomas T. Kemp   I read the latest book by Thomas T. Kemp this morning and knew again why he had become my favorite author.  You asked how I can say this when I compiled and edited the book for him and was also fortunate to help him on his first book, The Road From Here to Where You Stay?  Well, poetry has always been somewhat of a mystery to me.  I read some and wonder what it means.  I read others and each word speaks to me. And so it was with Your-Poet IS: Poetry and You.  No matter how many times I skimmed or read the poems by Thomas over the years, I was amazed and awed this morning to read them afresh, new—together in this book.  That is just why Thomas is my favorite author and his book of poetry explains it clearly. Thomas speaks directly to the readers.  No matter who you are, you feel that he is sitting with you, speaking the words. No matter how many times you open this book, what you read will be fresh, new, waiting to “talk” to you.  Kemp is a natural born storyteller. As I had compiled the poetry, I worried about format, punctuation, and capitalization, misspelled words.  How foolish I was to try to ensure consistency when life is not consistent and Thomas speaks of life…love!  I realized that the final copy I had submitted to him had not been used—thank goodness!  For it was stiff, consistent, and absolutely totally correct. The galley presented to me; however, immediately began speaking to me…had I read this poem before?  Why did it seem to speak to me differently?  Ah…I see.  Thomas has added the magic—the poetry of his words and now, finally, I understand.  His changes brought forth meaning to the words, and in doing so, he made each an individual message for us to receive and embrace. Thomas’ poetry presents his love to the readers.  He presents his words, his feelings…for all to see and receive and explore.  All of his poetry is about love.  He speaks of the first little girl that caught his attention when he was just five.  But he also speaks of sitting alone, wanting to be loved as he feels his life passing away.  Thomas is real and you are introduced to him and come to know him through his poetry.  He does not hide in his sharing.  “Plastic Flowers” tells the pain of a woman in his life, perhaps his wife, as he leaves her waiting at home, waiting for him to come and enjoy dinner, perhaps bringing her a few flowers. “Golden and Seventeen” shares that his time in Vietnam was a time when innocence was lost…in many ways.  In fact, there are several excerpts from his book that are those that first attracted me to his novel.  Those supposedly written by Jewelko shows a sensitivity about a woman’s feelings that perhaps you would never know or hear in a man, yet you see it in the words. There is a spiritual awareness in many of his poems, mostly expressed through his words about the seasons.  “Summer Time” brings us the heat of the year, while “Slippery Snowy Sidewalks” brings a smile to our face as we picture a father with his young daughter, perhaps laughingly, pulling him along on “damn, slippery snowy sidewalks.” Your Poet IS: Poetry and You is not a book of poems.  It is a biography in poetic form, a man’s life, his love, his shame, his fears, his awareness.  If you are interested in words that come together to present a life…this book is “must reading.”  Perhaps Thomas T. Kemp will become a favorite author as well. GABixlerReviews