Commentary

Last Kiss

Folder: 
Soapbox

Riding my cycle one day

A car pulled across my way

From my bike I was thrown,

I wished I had my helmet on.



I remember flying through space.

And landing on my face

Had I had my helmet on,

My casket could have been open.



If only I had not been remiss,

I would have had a face to kiss.

My mom could have seen her baby boy one more time,

Oh how I thought, “I would be fine”.



Now they take me to my final rest,

The women that I loved best,

Cannot gaze on this pulpy mess.

I see too late I was a fool,

Thinking a helmet wasn’t cool.



Wearing a helmet, not a day would I miss,

If knowing when it came to this,

Mom and my sweetheart could give me that last kiss.


Author's Notes/Comments: 

The difference between wearing a motorcycle helmet and not wearing one, is whether or not you have an open casket funeral.

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Petite, Yet Not

Petite you may be

Your demeanor makes you seem

Bigger, stronger, more in control

You exude this out of ain

Brought forth from your early life



You keep up the facade

Knowing if we were to see the true you

That our attitides may change

Thought we wish they did not



So you hide behind this mask

Giving off these false pretenses

Scared of what may come next

Yet hopefull all at once

Author's Notes/Comments: 

I wrote this because I was in a place where there was a lot of people who were petite.

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Soul Collector

Folder: 
Just a thought!

Soul Collector



In search of life, we all grasp at straws to hold.

This asylum called internet will certainly suck the life

From you, if you let it. The word, "Focus" will become

Obsolete from your dictionary and "Rejuvenating Thought,"

Pass'e. A good reliever of daily stress yet, seductive as some

Of its inhabitants... Welcome to the Soul collector!

         "Fragile Soul, Don't Break"!

                      

                                    by Barry Anderson

Author's Notes/Comments: 

"For those who take the internet, Way too serious!"

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Future Shot

Folder: 
Philosophical



Flags waving on high

Armies rushing, death is nigh

Cannon booms, men cry

Exploding shells, people die.



Sulphurous smoke covers the land,

Buildings leveled to nothing but sand.

Disaster brought by the hand of man.

Civilization at its last stand.


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Awake Yet, America?

You woke the sleeping giant, the United States.

A group of hypocritical people

controlled by a bunch of bigots,

controlling our fucking fates.



We endlessly proclaim God's false through science

while we bow before church steeples.

Doesn't that just make sense, that we can't figure

that we're a bunch of morons relying on appliances?



We make money off others' pain.

We're capitalizing pigs with absolutely no shame.

Faking patriotism 'cause if it was real

It would've shown before WTC.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

03/13/02.

I hate to say it, but I'm far from a patriot. I love this country and the people in it. I do not like what we're doing with it. If you disagree, then that's your views. I  wish you the best with them.

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Quiet Beauty

We lie  in our quiet beauty

Afraid of what may come to be

Hiding behind a mask of confusion

We do not see what other's see



Life in our world spins around us

We see not what rings true

Seen is only the outer layers

Attitudes change from crimson to blue



Strength is a matter of opinion

Personality clashes with thinking

Arrogance takes on a humanity

We sit in our corners, quietly drinking



Our once quiet beauty makes itself known

With the sudden clash of life's gong

Yet we continue on our way

Living out our pre-determined song

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This poem is written about all of the plastic people who try to act so great but really are void of meaning within their lives.

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Confusion and Love

Confusion and Love

Go hand in hand

Confusion follows

Love's commands.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Written 5/9/01

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'Nfinity'

It's the same thing, in each and every day in every way

I pray not to stray but it's the same thing

twenty-one centuries and ain't a thing changed, we go from men to mice because we can't hang

Don't know about fists and so we bang-bang and Lord ain't it strange how we say we love you,

Then turn around and put the whole world above you, we must be out of our minds and ain't it silly, how my brothers in color are trying to kill me--do you feel me?

And look at Billy--talking Sue into sex, let's just be real B

Look at the cause and effect and don't feel guilty

Because we all fall short, I'm no better than the man with cocaine that snorts or the lady down the street that restrains divorce,

Then has affairs while her spouse watches sports or the unruly kid that doesn't do his chores

Or the executive man that approves the wars, you shouldn't do this course

This is not the path--your soul's in jeapordy--you shouldn't laugh

You do the math and you'll come to the fact,

That God is love and The Devil is whack

Yo it's the same thing....

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Don Quixote Today

Folder: 
Philosophical

The call of a damsel in distress,

Brings out chivalry at its best.

Southern born and southern bred,

He runs to the Damsel’s bed.



Fearing no beast or man,

Ready to defend her honor best he can.

Tho’ they know each other not,

With her he will cast his lot.



For that is what a knight in shining armor must do,

Defend the weak with a heart that is true.

His prize but the lady’s kisses,

As the brave knight she dismisses.



Off he rides until called again,

For her honor too defend.

To save her from some horrible fate,

Is his ingrained southern trait.



A trait which he is justifiably proud,

One that sets him apart in a crowd.

Prepared to defend the weak and the poor,

He is an American down to his core.



American by birth many streets he has trod,

His roots are Southern by the grace of God.


Author's Notes/Comments: 

Thinking what it means to be Southern. Defend the country, defend the poor and downtrodden, defend the lady's honor. Be honorable in all things.

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