This reader-submitted original poem is about a regular neighbor that any one of us might have – a kind, wise neighbor that seemed to have no fear of telling the truth, regardless of the dangers or how much it contradicted what our TV sets told us. And then we read the name – Phil Schneider. Who is Phil Schneider, we wondered. A line from the poem even suggests, ‘log in and look up Phil.’ So we did. And it brought back a lot of memories. If you believe in UFO’s or that aliens exist on Earth, so did Phil, except he was murdered for it.
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A Good Neighbor
By Christopher M. Towsley
One thing I get to noticing,
about My existence here.
it can’t be as it would appear.
I don’t think they let it, they just let it, seem.
It’s just that simple,
as if we are a pimple,
and the truth is the
The guy next door,
one day he made mention
of the truth.
We were outside looking at My roof.
He said the real truth is something.
This latest one is really “old hat”.
He talked about “greys anatomy”
and the “fifty shades of grey”,
are just part of the show.
They don’t want you to know,
the fiction from the fact.
I think the real truth,
somewhere down the line,
was kind of postponed.
It’s as if the truth and reality,
were simply cloned.
You know what they say about mushrooms.
That in the dark you feed them,
a diet of lies,
and a need to despise,
and do it again,
I heard a basic explanation,
that we didn’t get the right,
to know that the truth and reality,
were like day from night.
We never got the basic respect,
we deserve as human beings,
the right to know that,
what is real,
is what we are seeing.
If we had of, God only knows,
how life as we know it should be.
And the unification of Human spirit,
would be the difference,
But they have decided,
that it’s all one-sided,
and the genre of sci-fi,
is just a precursor,
between us and the cursor,
that clicks just before we die.
I knew something wasn’t kosher,
I knew it in my heart,
that pre-school pretending,
was us, progrmmed
the real truth,
right from the start.
I went over to Phil Schneider’s place.
I hadn’t seen Him in a while.
Last time he seemed wound,
a little tightly,
behind that slightly,
There was a sign,
just back from the curb,
right in the middle
of his lawn.
He had said it was going to happen,
Ol’ Phil was gone.
Well Phil was one heck of a neighbor,
a neighbor to us all.
Just what he did for a living,
I can’t recall.
But what he did when he was dying,
was bravely tell the truth.
And it means much more to human kind,
than the fountain of youth.
So do Yourself a favor,
log in and look up Phil.
You just might find Yourself a truth,
that You’re waiting for,