The Night It Should Have Been Me
I was there...
Over in that land...beyond the sea...
Begging God...Don't let it be...
Lying... Frighten...Hiding on the ground...
As Rockets...Guns...Claymores...
Exploding...all around
The radio... Help me...Call had come in...
He said... God...I'm hit...very bad...
I couldn't believe... How my heart went...
Just so... damn mad...
I moved... as it was Mauir...
For a blinding flash...had torn my soul...
And slammed.. knocked my helmet from my hair...
My eyes and soul looked toward black...
With so much fright...
I could hardly move...because of my pounding...that night
I had to find him...
I had to make amends...
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poem by Clyde Bryson
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Breaking Out of Yuma
Has anyone ever noticed?
How abuse chains and prisons their souls?
Leaves them living in the past!
And just like the dust,
Seen with the sun beams shine through the glass
They float there, memory, you inhale pain
And gasp
My friends, my family,
The day has will come
When, you must make a decision.
Break out of those endless prisons!
Face those truths,
Those things that hurt so bad,
They rule your life,
Every time, angry or sad...
I know it's against the law to escape some prisons...
But the abusers put you this one...
It was after all, and against your decision
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poem by Clyde Bryson
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The Valley of Acid Tears
I think my writing's of poems has come to an end
They've told the stories about my family
Lost Love, Wars, The Hells, Places I've been
Damaged Souls
The Stories of Tears that just won't end
The Things that just has to be said
That caused the Tears
The Dark Secrets
Truth about a family of Abuse
Anger
Live's full of sin
Reality would talk about how it's time to move on
We were the resemblances of survival
A family gone
And for our futures journeys to the other side of life
Yet even now with that knowledge of my family
My own lifetime of strife
My broken dreams and shattered hearts
I was still surprised by the cords that were still tied
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poem by Clyde Bryson
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Battling Racism
I have wanted to tell my story of Sgt. Vigay.
When we first met, him claiming cool,
and get's Hell out's -is way.
I never felt such hatred, prejudice, like that first day.
That was my first moments, But I swore, I'd make him pay.
It started, claiming he'd whip's my body,
Like's moppen's the hall.
He'd whip's this I'd'ho white boy, in Bassit Ball
There he stood, six three or four, big and frighting.
But I mouthed, moe foe, have you ever seen?
I'd'ho white greased lighting?
The hurts and the banging, I knew what I'd get.
All the money I had, but what the Heck?
I placed life, death, on that six dollor bet.
Battling racisim, I bet they're still wondering even yet?
The brothers all cheered, for their man six feet four.
The fight was finally over 21,24,
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poem by Clyde Bryson
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Lost In Wal-Mart
So... I was in one of those Wal-mart Super Stores
Just the other day
When in the middle of the hallway
I felt someone grab my fingers tight
I looked and there she was... a little child holding
With all her might
I saw her eyes big and brown
Somehow she pulled me to the ground
Now..what was a man...big as me suppose to do
So... I said... child... Can I help you..?
As she looked at me with big brown eyes
Her beauty and sadness... almost caused a great flood
And with her voice ready to cry
She ask... If'n...I'd seen her mommy?
Now has anybody ever had their heart fallout of their soul...?
Mine did... And I couldn't help but notice
Her knees.. Shaking... Like she was at the North Pole.
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poem by Clyde Bryson
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