If you're interested in some poetry, here was one that particularly moved me this week, Being an English Major and all.  Tell me your thoughts?

Trees fly by,
as a neon moon keeps constant
watch, watch as the world keeps moving,
behind the glass,
and the bus rolls on.

A tired man lays,
head rested uncomfortably against the window,
thoughts of his son reflecting in the glass
things he wished for
things he wished he had said
things he wished his son could see

and the bus rolls on

A ridged young woman,
stares blankly forward,
scared to death of what may lie inside her,
scared that neither she, nor her baby
will see the moon dancing betwixt the trees again,

and the bus rolls on.

A young man sits,
legs tucked against the seat in front of him,
thinking of a beautiful woman,
her hair around his smiling face,
her thighs around his waist,
her eyes gaze into anothers across town,

and the bus rolls on

daughters contemplating murder
pastors on the way to last sermon
criminals running from court
tired driver,
late night moonlight
child plays in the road

Boom.



And the bus rolls on.

Pretty intense stuff eh?  Let me know your analysis, boss!