I run, whenever I get scared, I run away.
I run, even though I should make a stand.
I run, something inside of me is scare boy.
I run, though I have Christ beside me always.
I run, I wish that I would change right now.
But I run, in the wrong directions always.
I should be running toward, instead of from.
I run, when instead I should stand firm here.
I run, when life starts to become hard for me.

Down town, small town
Sunday night hanging around
Kids on the skids
Got no dough and no place to go
All in the bus station
Putting themselves on show
Gathered in small groups
Eyeing each other up
Acting and looking just so

Then he and she locked eyes
Young lust on the cusp
Without a hint of disguise
It only took a minute or two
And these reckless kids
Knew what they were going to do
It was all upfront with nothing hid
These two had already done
More than kids shudda did

So they found a derelict house
And there the deed was done
It wasn't meant to be about love
It was just about having fun
But they decided to meet next day
Right after school was done
Back in the bus station again
Waiting for their buses home
So they sat and talked a while
And realised they got on

Soon they were "going steady"
Left their craziness behind
After all, they were old enough
They had both been around
Love bloomed for all of two weeks
Before it got him down
Having a girl friend was one thing
But he preferred nights on the town
So he told her cold as ice
Sorry babe, you gotta go

                                By Phil Roberts

The Compliment Disaster
Has left us in a daze.
A kindness comes a monster
And'll only lose us face.

Not one of greatest poets
Has stemmed from nonsense such
Who clouds their skills to write it—
The words that comes out ****!

Mud, whiskey, death
and bad debts, the river's
high water, mysterious birds
flying south disappearing
like a youngest daughter,
no good men, bad intentions,
changing seasons, unexplained
pains, all of these are reasons
I've seen good women weeping
after the hardest rains came.