Kevin Michael Anderson

Kevin Michael Anderson Jul 2010

Love

Love thou art bewitching,
neither Earth, fear, or sky
could ever separate you
from whom you match, that is no lie.

Love thou art blinding,
When I look upon your face
I feel the words, and see your grace
yet no light comes from it entwining.

Love thou aren't simple,
For though I love Woman ,
my soul churns, and with guilt it burns
for whom I might love?

Amidst your endless aim,
and unfathomed reasons veiled,
I die in pain, by loss of sane,
To my love, and without love..

Kevin Michael Anderson Jul 2010

Humanity

In times of War,
and in times of Woe,
we stumble cross this world
and down below

And in the deep
where all things sleep
we find vague secrets hurled
guarded by things that creep

When I read a paper, of the News,
I wearily read and yet joyfully snooze
I hear of stories filled with rage
and listen to pages that unto others abuse

and I say...

HAHAHA

Human fools, we are pathetic,
give up this world we know,
travel back, through time and space,
to ease the pain we've sworn to sew,

What in paitence lies with pity,
And in lying, animosity,
We cannot trust, or be trusted
And hide in cloaks from dignity

I am I guess a doomsayer,
as I like to say our doom;
It will come, by our wills done
And shall end the cycle of gloom

Even through negativity,
this white sail stand with truth,
We are poor and weak,
and surely deserve to fall from our peak..

And should you wonder why,
or how cruel of me to be?
Then ask yourself, or die,
How can you let THIS be?

When Humans have no love,
no patience for this Earth,
When grace is hunted with glove,
We've lost our lovely mirth..

When Humans care for torture,
***, Money and Power,
There is no greater torture
Then to suffer this hour through hour..

When Wars are fueled by anger,
wrought as steel, long ago,
Should we travel back this Danger,
and send it melting as the snow?

When the Economy is poisoned,
and the flag of Obama is soiled,
The truth in the cotton is marred,
and the Red White and Blue is by rage Boiled..

When Minds are swift as flies,
Yet can be stayed by petty lies,
or When these Lies
Act as flies,
they spread their wings with hate,
all across the state,
so that we may argue,
and that we may toil,
that we may blame for,
or that we may take from
And eventually desecrate

When Words are trusted fasley,
and from it lives took wrongly,
Who can we trust in this void
of life we too must rust?

When light of Moon
and Song of sun,
have in the dark fled far,

Wither we go, all abroad
Peace never shall be far,
Yet ever will be far
In this world we sadly mar.

Kevin Michael Anderson Jul 2010

Doom

Doom,
We walk towards thy gate,
side by side, with Destiny,
and despair...

Doom, your benevolence is great,
to let the children outside play;
Yet the Sun
must surely go.

Doom,
more than Death,
am I not doomed merry dreams?
or Merry Times?

Doom,
are you so bad,
as to rupture the rose
that sprouts on sacred soil?

I think not,
for as I look to thee,
you are speculated as a tangled knot,
and just simplified as a misery to be..

But who are we to change fate?
Less war and evil rage on with hate?
Then god might come lessened and late
and spiral us into an perpetual state?

Who are we to change the Earth
that is ever more patient and disputable
than our clustered minds
like musicals?

Who are we to undo hell
to unleash the thieves and liars fell
upon the sacred land of God
whence fair and innocence mindlessly trod?

Who are we to shape the Sun
so that it exists and is never undone?
To breathe the open-aired light of day
to fool our minds, to celebrate and sway?

We are but peasants, mindless, and few
that from which a starry void did send us through,
and so we were, and so we are, from dust to dust,
doom is then, doom is there, and alone it cannot rust!

Kevin Michael Anderson Jul 2010

Insanity

What goes up,
must not come down*
What is free
shall be bound
What goes round
shall become flat
what is feared
will be my door mat
What is Earth
when Earth is Mars
and what is fear
when fearing cars?

Of what do I speak?

I am whispers of cold air,
that melt your face with my despair,

Of what do I speak?

I am harsh attitude,
that gives you pleasure, and fortitude.

Of what do I speak?

Do I speak of love? life? livers? long? low? lousy? loom? lay? like? lost? lovers? power? pain? physic? knowledge? wisdom? Cats?
Tacos?

....

Squirrels!?
"****!".

Of What do I speak

that bemoans the winds so fair?

Of what Do i speak?

that will:

Trade a book for a worm
and a worm for a sock
and a sock for a bag
and a bag for a tong
and a tong for a toe
and a toe for a ***
and a *** for some snow
and some snow for a crow
and a crow for a stove
and a stove for a grove
and a grove for a brain
and a brain for some bronze
and some bronze for some books?

Of what do I speak?

That goes left
and ends up right?

Of what do I speak,

that has a creative light,
that all shun
and turn away from.

Of what do I speak,

?this like backwards speaks taht

Ro spahrep ekil ****?

Of what do I speak?

That has a language of its own

of what do I speak?

That at the sight of your face moans

"For if your face is a face, then stop giving me that face!"
...
but enough games

Of What do I speak?

Kevin Michael Anderson Jul 2010

Moon

Moon, monstrous,
You illumine the Dark,
and through despair and woe,
you hide from our hearts,
whence we seek you.

Eons past,
that you derive from us,
yet you shall last
and yet control, as a plus.

Moon, empty!
Your shape revolves
such as a ball
that spins loftily
in display.
but as our appreciation develops,
and our knowledge broadens,
you shrink
when we may not see you.

Moon, Terrible!
Man seeks your shape for tourism!
Yet your patience remains high,
it must go thin,
and the powers invested in you,
will timely be unleashed
as though a tsunami,
that crashes upon a beach,
and surges forth liquid concrete
upon the hosts of Earth.
Yet, you remain patient,
but patient, for what?
Why do you stay yourself,
You do not come to us,
though you were born,
you be born from man,
and the theory true,
shall outlast your span
"Man made of equal, if another thing makes,
must return to the maker, lest the maker unmakes."
so why.
Why do you remain,
in starry night void?
O Moon,
you are wise,
and powerful,
I think, sometimes,
staring out my window,
into the cold black-winter
of space,
"Moon, I see you"
And feel excited,
then perversely fall asleep.

Kevin Michael Anderson Jul 2010

What, Oh What, Will You Have For Me?

Many times before me,
have I been told, in youth, of sea
to shining sea,
that does not wane.

Eons before humanity,
the whisking
of the waves,
showed benevolence.

But these times of peace have left us,
and close together we must remain,
Soon the world will End,
though a hollow and 1-tracked,
dead-ended train.

But those times have yet to come,
and remain as stationary as power,
One must come and go,
and one weary of the next,
as is a tower.

But in all three times, there are some questions,
What in the Past, will you have for me?
What is this unheard glory that I might see?

Do ye have mercy?
Do ye have love?

Will I be spared?
Will I be loved?

Though these fears run through us,
we cannot seek to hide,
the demeaning awe within us,
as we shall surely die.

And though comfort exists,
in forms of Heaven and Hell,
truth lies not in wording,
nor in deceit, or tricking spells,
For I must see,
with mine own eyes,
what lies beyond me,
past the skies,

and I must feel
when Earth has left,
and all is light,
as lover's breath,

and I must taste
the pure rivers clean,
that run down with haste,
wise, white, and keen,

and I must hear
the non-clustering sounds of Earth,
I must be free,
of human ear's worth,

and I must smell
no longer the air
that lives down their
that is known as hell

and I must pursue
still, my dreams, through death
and seek perfection
of immortality; Death.

So then, God.
What, Oh What, Will You Have For Me?

Kevin Michael Anderson Jul 2010

Poessesion

Life day after day,
sounds like a game.
One reason, concerning this poem
is the fact of Possession.
Which possesses a figure of inception,
or obsession..

This is mine,
and those are yours
Who cares?

"I do! I own Atlantis!"
That's quite lovely, my dear,
but deep down you fear,
to be powerless, as before,
and so you claim,
and so you take
and so you wane,
as part of fate.

"But I own it!"
Says who!?
Did god himself
with red carpets drawn,
and paparazzi all around
stride from a chariot-limo
to head into your halls
just to discuss
your ownerships?
Or perhaps you think,
that you might of built it,
when,
in reality,
the tools and elements you've wielded,
did the work.

Does the blacksmith forge,
or does the furnace,
does a man ****?
Or does the bullet he fires?

"Its mine!"
Now you prove my point,
possession is an obsession,
All that is, belongs to all
and all that is not, belongs to me.

"No fair! How come you get to own something?"

Because it is in the realm of possession.
Such as the realm of possibility,
where as a man might grow 9 arms
and fly like spider man
with gum instead of webs,

All that exists, remains to the existing,
And all that does not exist,
belongs to the non-existent,
yet the non-existent
must be brought into existence?

and so you claim
and so you take
and so you fuel
our rage and hate..
Possession.

Might not make sense.