I was once called
A communist, a fascist and an anarchist
All in one sentence
Which I thought was quite impressive
And this was because I was a union man
My fellow workers elected me to represent them
In our dealings with management
I was involved in negotiations
About the application of regulations
And other tedious vexations
And on rare occasions
I led disputes and even strikes
And, over the years
I helped to save many jobs
Not numbers
But peoples' livelihoods
Some will say I was a rabble-rouser
An agitator
Some can say as they like
All I ever did
Was stand up for the underdog
And I hope I always will

                                   By Phil Roberts

Brown yellow rusted pages
None read
None would for ages
Lying on the pave

Blurred is the title and name
Lost dream and never born fame
Wisdom of long bearded sages
Dumped in the grave

Dusty old forgotten write
Feasted upon by termite
What to author full of sense
Fetch not any pence

Should I buy take home to read
Not treat it like just **** ****
Spend some time in smelling old
See if bring some gains?

What was the point saying hi in the hallways
to all those girls (and it was only the girls)
You passed those same kids six times a day
Think of the energy wasted with Hi Mary! Hi Cindi!
when you could be thinking baseball or astronomy
the stuff of seventh grade.

Eighth grade brought the mystery
of introductory geometry
the jostling double parabolas of Julie’s body
shaped like an S, she was outgoing in so many ways
I just had to say Hi Julie!
whereas Kathleen one could discern was similarly shaped
but tightly encased, a quiet one, shyly a hello.

My curiosity was for Hi Julie!
my dreams for hello Kathleen
though that was the limit: hello, Hi!
and then after graduation, not even that.
Not even goodbye.

backlit by acute rays awakening
dew clothed petals, like lovers lips sated
whisperings to the gentle kissed breaths,
  proper, dance the light shines proud
unafraid of the trees rigid

  jealous concealed in long lonely shadows
watching her stem aware, but uncaring,
  knowing her dance natural, the forest
the golden sky the wisp of cloud the trees animals
Mother Nature herself

glances , envying her beauty her freedom
  to feel to live ripe flowered healthy, loved by
crisp breezes and warming arms of goldeness,
  bravely standing naked in morning glory.

took all of my belongings
- those words i borrowed
for staging myself -, packed
it all, pinned it a note,
here's to us, if ever,
went for a dock
(no lighthouse please,
the night needs a rest).

She stopped at the light
outside the Double Drop D in Cortez
and looked me over

I was day dreaming about a girl
with finger cymbals
between shows

Her top was down
and I could hear Neil Young
singing Cinnamon Girl
on the radio

...*i could be happy
the rest of my life..

Everything
Happens

For
A
Reason

Ordered
Under
Trinity