Biography of Errol Anderson
Writing is a way of expressing my freedom. It's also my therapeutic relief from the everyday stress that can sometimes get you down.
Errol Anderson's Works:
Still working on it.
Errol Anderson Poems
Time If Only...
The quiet and calm beckons yet remains out of reach, The wrong place, the wrong time… is timeless. The mind still spins, like a top out of control, Longing for that sweetness that was meant to please.
Enrage, degrade Convulsed with guilt and rage… Offensive, defensive What is it about this thing called age?
What More Could You Want
Emasculated and beaten the shell withdraws to a corner. Nothing left to give no will to survive. Battered and pained no wish to be alive. Slowly the torture continues as you sit by,
This dream we dream is endless. When we wake there will be no promise, This life we live is painless. Tonight we dream of what could be.
A Cry For Help
She hurt me again last night, It's useless trying to put up a fight. Again I cried myself to sleep, She showed no care, even when I weep.
If I Had Any Pride
I’d let you go if I had any pride. The emotions felt I cannot hide. My soul you do tear apart. Yet I still offer you my heart.
If you could see me now, you’d see how I’ve grown. And maybe I’d know why you left for reasons unknown. A departure you made, so sure you’d never be found. A curse on you should history come around.
A Man Today
I met a man today His face was filled with sorrow. I begged for him a while to stay But all he wanted was bread to borrow.
It should come as no surprise That in your eyes I can see the passion. They say love is the fashion,
A Baby Cries
The baby cried again that night From the haze her mother tried to regain her sight. Strung out again on coke She was still trying to find yet another toke.
Time If Only...
The quiet and calm beckons yet remains out of reach,
The wrong place, the wrong time… is timeless.
The mind still spins, like a top out of control,
Longing for that sweetness that was meant to please.
A passion waiting to be unleashed, tasting some but not fulfilled.
The senses remain electric, charged by the shock.
Emotions ablaze, the excitement and the pain, the mood sways.
There is no game but accept the loss.
The blame, where does it lay, time… if only it stood still.