"TC"

 Hi!  Welcome to my Webpage:

I was born,  Terry Lee Cameron,  I became Terry Lee Cameron, Sr. upon the birth of my son. 

I first picked up the nickname of "TC" while in grade school, for some reason it stuck. I always loved to sing and at about ten years old I started to learn to play the guitar. The Harmonica also caught my ear and I practiced avidly.  When I was fourteen one of my teachers thought I had some writing talent and started me believing in myself.

Since then I have written songs, poems, verse and well, sometimes just thoughts.  I have been published on several occcasions. I've played and sang with several groups and bands over the years. I have very few complaints. I have completely enjoyed it. My motto as always, remains. "If,  I've entertained you or made you consider anything,  YOU, have made my day".

Thanks

" TC "

MY POETRY

 WHAT WENT WRONG

© 2001

 We tried to do good;  we tried to  do well.

When we put together the pudding,

We thought things out well.

We used a cold bowl; it was put together well,

But the puddings all done, and it still won't jell.

Same way with life. we started out young, having lots of fun, changing what was wrong.

Now we've gotten older and when we look all around,

Though we did it just right and we did it really well, nothing's flowing smoothly and its all gone to hell.

 Mama's killing babies, kids doing time in jail.

But we see our politicians all living rather well.

We had better get together, make things change real soon, or we'll see all our freedoms flying west with the moon.

We tried to do good; we tried to do well.

When we put together the pudding,

We thought things out well.

We used a cold bowl; it was put together well,

But the puddings all done, and it still won't jell.

Perspective at Y2K

By "TC"

© 1999

 March, March, we are marching,
March, March, we are marching,
March, March, we are marching,
Marching toward our doom.

Governments today are falling,
making rules for just the few.
Starving people of their nations, blanketed in ethnic hue.
Onward, forward, march to destruction, sell plutonium to that group.
March, March, we are marching.
Marching toward our doom.

The masses of people huddle together,
cold and hungry and hot as hell.
Blisters and festers plague the people,
caused by ozone and other rank smells.

March, March, we are marching,
March, March, we are marching,
March, March, we are marching,
Marching toward our doom 

 JUST ONE RED CLOUD

By "TC" 

© 1999

Standing on a mountain top looking down below,
Waste and devastation all around me.
Acid rain falling on my head in sheets of toxic poisons.
A rank smell burns into my nostrils, my eyes red and watery.
I knew it would happen. It had to happen.
Man can't make peace.
He fights to kill at his own peril.
It had to happen.
Below me huddling in masses are the remnants
Of a once great proud race.
The sky crimson, fiery red, causing inter-playing shadows.
A shrieking whine, red fog rises among them.
Whoosh!
Even they disintegrate.
It had to happen.
Man wouldn't make peace.
It had to happen.
Just one red cloud, floating in space.
All that is left of the proud human race.



With 'SGT LARRY AND THE SOULJERS'

Ballground, Ga.  2011

 Studio Shot:   Recording "Here's Hope"

 Practice at "Rabbits"

 Practice at "Rabbits"

              Old 'CALECO' Shots