{The Willow}


The weeping willow cries for you

Until winter sucks up its breath 
Coming anew is a thorn 
The willow provides shelter
With curiosity of the thoughts below
But cannot hear 
You're beckoning the same melody 
As up above 
If two beings feel pain 
Does it make a sound?
Time replaces all losses
Soon they'll both be at times end 
The clock stopped
Or rather skipped 
The unfortunate end to this tale
Sympathy grew old early 
and passed 
Along with guilt
and remorse 
Providing no new seed 
For the loam below 
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Thoughts from My Mind


Life is filled with ups and downs...

With many smiles and numerous frowns...

Heart felt words that were left unsaid...

Remembered too late..cause now you are dead...

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Life passes by so quick..I wonder if my mind is playing a trick..

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You'd Choose Greed

You'd choose greed

In the face of kindness.
You'd choose malice and you'd choose utter blindness.
You'd choose greed instead of making sense
Bringing tears and causing great suspense.
You'd choose greed, you'd choose shyness
Instead of hello, you'd choose goodbye-ness.
You'd choose greed, you'd choose sadness
Instead of gladness.
Instead of choosing something everlasting
You'd choose something ever-passing.
You'd choose greed.
You'd choose fear
In the face of bravery.
You'd choose fear instead of feeling peaceful glee.
You'd choose fear, you'd choose sadness
Instead of goodness
You'd choose badness.
You'd choose fear, you'd choose slyness.
You'd choose lowness, instead of highness.
You'd choose fear, you'd choose sadness
Instead of gladness.
You'd choose fear, you'd choose worry.
Instead of standing, you'd choose to scurry.
You'd choose giving in instead of pushing on
Instead of right, you'd choose wrong.
Instead of choosing something everlasting
You'd choose something ever-passing.
You'd choose fear.
You'd choose greed.
Author's Notes/Comments: 

This is actually a shortened version of a song I made off the top of my head.

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Gone too soon was my daddy, The best dad in the world.

And though there was no blood kin, this man was my 

whole world.


Gone too soon my mama, I miss her more each day.

She taught me all the good things, she thought I'd

need someday.


Gone too soon my sister, she meant the world to me.

She was my special angel, And that she will always be.


Gone too soon my brother, and all the things we did, 

we didn't always get along, but the love we had 

was real.


Gone too soon my husband, of many  many years. I never 

thought you'd leave me. I've shed so many tears.


Gone too soon so many, each left my heart so broke, we

surely had a good time, it ended way to soon !


I speak to god and thank him, for each of you in my life.

You made me who I am today, and that is very nice.


I promise you each one thing, as long as I shall live.

You will never be forgotten, I will always keep you


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Sleepless Nights

Self Loathing


Oh how many sleepless nights

Laying there helpless without the lights

Staring above to a realm unknown

My body sinking, heavy as a stone


My sight is blurred with greys and whites

Laying there helpless without the lights

My blanket consumes my every limb

Holding them snug, close,

My vision still dim


Focusing on everything, takes all my might

Laying there helpless without the lights

Thoughts and dreams cross my mind

Anything my daring darkness can find.

Old people are angry

That's whaT we should do. Go to Colorado and stick our nuts in microwaves. Imagine how much weed we would come home with? 

What Kind of Poet am I?

Just a thought!

The things we write, some good some bad.

Depends on the day, whether happy or sad..

Some things we write are misunderstood,

The critiques weigh in, if it's bad or good.

I wear Snoopy bandaids to lighten the blow..

From pretentious poets who think they know.

I bounce words that rhyme from one to the other,

Most having meaning the synapse will cover.

I write for grins to help pass my day,

In hopes a smile will come your way.

Not everyone comments , so, I may never know it...

I guess in the end, I'm just a rubber poet' 

by Barry Anderson



Author's Notes/Comments: 

"What kind of poet am I?"

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Nubean Scripets

Just a thought!

Have you ever been attacked by Nubean Scripets,

the ones that invade your head?

They pass through your brain, in silent whispers,

tiny screams, till you wish you were dead.

They come and they go as apparition spirits

flashing death or something unkind

Twisting and turning to possess every thought

Laying waste to a fragile mind

Seizing all memory, they change for effect,

You resist, in a moment of repeal

You swallow some water, choking down Xanax,

There's a calm, it all seems so surreal.



Author's Notes/Comments: 

"Nubean Scripets"   my new diagnosis for ailment'Tongue Out.....seeing or hearing things'


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Five Year Journey

The weather is well

The sky is blue

The day anew

The little birds wake and sing

We wake because our alarms ring

I can’t tell

If that was the screams in my head or

The school bell

I’m inside

Inside again

Inside myself

Translation of my ideas, I’m deaf

Sympathetic to several causes

Seemingly smart with scarce solutions

Often imagining the future

Taking the high way in the maze of life

Road block

Stagnated, frustrated


Initially, but it evolved courageously

It’s hard to understand ourselves

Time is the patron of change


Now that I get it


That I think I get it

I’d like to rewind

And restart the picture I painted

Purify the person I tainted

Use the colors that I wish I used

My eyes see nothing new, I’m unamused

Now there’s nowhere to memorize just open your mind

Analyze every line

Because all the world’s a stage

Regressed to Illiteracy 

In my book I can’t seem to turn the page 

Learning till the day I die

Consumption of corruption because it’s easy



Our interests are mutual

Alone like my daily ritual

Instant satisfaction

Failing to ponder and think critically

Why don’t we ask why

By social stigma we act cynically

To me my shadow is colorful


The feeling we search for

Push and pull

Two sides seen by only two eyes

Left & right, black & white

Understanding is out of sight



I might

Still figuring it out


Silence kisses my lips

Only talking when we take sips

Beats my heart skips

My conscious flows in the veins of my eyes

My tongue is red like my lies

Tarnished are my teeth and my thoughts

And without purpose my soul rots

The human hand is the door knob to a person

But my hands are locked in fists

Wrinkles in our palms

The fleshy manifestation of our route through life

Legs like ruined Roman columns

Glory with revitalization

Destruction with mistreatment

Only if he comes to a sooner realization

He’ll become a traitor of stag-nation

Author's Notes/Comments: 

My first written poem. The title simply signifies the teenage years and I feel as if it really dug deep into my 17 year old head. Please tell me what you thought of it.