full and orangy
you sink quickly
as morning comes

don't go so quickly...
i'm sorry i slept

the night is ours
i missed you so many
times

you are my peace
my balm
my love

keep my puppies
happy
till i join you all.....

the sun has
risen

the people crawl
out of their little spaces

the night is mine
just for you & me

oh & the snow truck
& driver from Jamaica
whose truck was stuck
in this snow

three or four hours
he waited for his
buddies to help

such a blizzard this
place did have

seven, lucky 7
trucks were stuck
during the night

drivers waiting
digging them out
with little shovels

feet cold
sox wet

oh the *******
will soon begin

where were you
all you little
warm & asleep
little peeps?

very asleep
whether awake or
asleep

why did you not
bring this man
this cold Island man

a nice big shovel
from your
little little house

some did
& stayed to
dig

& stayed to
watch his
buddy set him free

& stayed to
cheer as he & his
truck

made it back up
the big hill
got a running start

& HURRAY
they made it
ALL the way up!

my moon
high in the sky
soft light
watching all

watching all
go by

i love you moon
i shall see you soon!

When I was a young man
A heedless headlong consumer of life, was I
Above and beyond the norm or necessity
I wore paths deep and wide
To the pleasure centres of my brain
And I rode my soul like an easy *****
Oh happy daze of hedonism
How sweet life tasted then

If there was drink to drink
We drank it
If there were songs to sing
We sang them
If there were fights to fight
We fought them
We had fast feet and faster wits
If there was hell to raise
We raised it
Excess and adventure in equal parts
How fast, how high we flew back then

And then the magic playground
Became a bleak and dangerous place
Peopled by predators and prey
In an ever changing food chain
And I was only one step away
From the totally oblivious
One brain cell ahead of
The permanent reality challenged
Then friends began casually dying
Barely noticed in the rush to join them
Now the race is on
And I have grown old and slow

                                              By Phil Roberts

Need to get ready
For the coming war

Can't get the things I need
Because I'm poor

I'd ask mom for money
And she'd ask what for?

I'd tell her
It's because
Of human beings mom

They've done it before

Need a shovel
To dig real deep

Hide inside
Won't hear a peep

Look at the scream
And look at them run

DARPA drones are deadly
And not much fun

I know America has done
Many wicked things
In the past

But my Syrian neighbors
Are good people
Have to make the canned food last

We'll have to
Pull together
You and me

These good and decent people
Lovers of Liberty

The global masters
Aren't like
You and me

No shred of human decency
They'll tell you to March
To the beat of their drums

And that 1+1=3

Some type of spiritual battle
On this earth

Many people agree with me
For what it's worth

No food at the supermarket
No food in town
Don't look now
Everything is shut down

They will ration gas too

You never thought
You would see it
In the land
Of the red white and blue

Baltic Dry Index
As low as it's ever been
Seems like the global economy
Is on a downward spin

Chinese ships empty
Going broke
Not enough cargo to ship
It's no joke

Dow Jones is way down too

Without water
We are *******

The rich have other locations
Secret hideaways

My family just has our faith
In what may be
The end of days

We're a kind and decent people
Don't you know

Welcome to earth
Welcome to the show

It matters what you do here
I sure hope
I can persevere

He said he would be with us
Until end of days
King of Kings
Be not afraid

Hidden deeds in darkness
Will be brought to the light

Sometimes life's so hard!
But you'll be alright

Everything is A-Okay
We all have our part to play

They plan a global government
Apartments stacked high
Citizens monitored every minute
Don't ask why

There is He
Faithful and True
On a white horse
Riding through the sky

once had a boyfriend

well was he technically that?

me thinks not

me thinks he just wanted to *** into
ma pants

and a few other assorted boys used this
same line

how they would complain
entangled in the car
hot breath heaving
long deep kisses
bodies writhing
on summer nights
and cold winter ones too

always squirming away
from curiously demanding
hands

after the zipper
between the thighs

warm delicious sensations...

But WAIT....

what will they say tomorrow?

so.... squirming away
never giving in
to the passion arising
high as the sky

frustrated...
these boys
would complain
like a little boy
not getting their new toy

YOU are giving me
BLUE *****

really?  is that really
a condition?
or are you just pulling my
proverbial leg?

and REALLY
it is MY fault?

me thinks not...

in any event
one day it came
to say

well... if you aren't
acquainted with your
right hand
perhaps now is the
time

and if you want a little
variety
use your left

and if you are feeling particularly
frisky
try them both
for the *******!

it worked perfectly for ME
for them
well
i didn't wait
around too
long to
SEE....

It took me awhile to get my head back together
There was always enough time to give up hope
Depressed episodes of emptiness playing forever
My Mission. My Friends. They were there too
Funny thing is, I was even more afraid ‘cuz of that
A voice argued with me to “try”
Try because no one will forget the day everything changed
The moment they were able to fly
Another argued “why bother?” Reality didn’t exist anyway
That society would cover up our work
I really never was some kinda hero
“Then why do this? What did you hope to accomplish?”
I don’t know…
I guess I just wanted to save the world.

She said she liked my art
Except the paintings she didn’t understand
The abstracts
Except the ****** paintings
Except the paintings of women touching themselves
With glassy eyes, with fierce eyes
But she liked the rest.

Art, a spiritual pursuit
That takes energy, gives energy
Sometimes a trip into the unknown
Sometimes, but not always.

The grinding of light and dark
Male and female
Of love and anger
(And indifference, sadly)
The unreconciled, the out-of-balance.
The enlightened, the flashes of wisdom
That disappear over the horizon
Like a flock of ravens. Misanthropes all.
New work, new words, new insights
Bubble up from deep down in imaginary worlds.

Don’t mind the chaos
Creativity is chaos.
Nature isn’t what we want it to be
Nature lives by its own rules
Prerogatives
The endless search
To claim little bits of sun energy
And the cycles of water
In search of the ocean
Yet again.

The creative force of nature
Chaotic, full of competition.
And destruction.
Of those things
Beautiful things are sometimes made.

Though we travel the world over to find the beautiful,
We must carry it with us or we find it not.
    - Ralph Waldo Emerson