I try hard not to worry
if i'm right or if i'm wrong
endeavor to be more bird than bard
and sing my merry song
and sing my merry song

Just a day
The day is partly overcast, shadows and light
chase each other up and down a hillside,
where I came from nature is hardening
and there is already snow in the air.

Tiny lilac flowers grow under- don't know their names
( do I look like a botanist)
Only the almond tree is bare of leaves, unpicked leaves
Hang like baubles that have lost their shine.

I take a walk on the road it is cartwheel wide and has fallen
into disuse, but for generations to come it will be a healed wound
across the landscape.

In front of me, a bird blue and white has fallen
out of the sky; I pick it up- its beak is grey
It blinks and dies gracefully.
I place it on a stone its soul is still in my palm
and gently blow to set it free.
A breeze makes the leaves tremble.

I felt this primal urge
This trance-like instinct
To set things right
In case I have to leave
Move on, so to speak

So
I took my jaundiced eye
And rolled it from corner to corner
Of this, my situation
And I felt so very small and hard
Lost in largeness
For cynicism is a tight thing
Which allows little movement
A strange kind of chastity

And then, you see
Changes
Honesty demanded that I see more
Grow, so to speak

And oh, my poor sore eyes
See how the children starve
All over this bitter world
This bitter, sickened world
And cynicism did this
Through the slack hands of millions
Who still refuse to believe
That things can be changed

                                    By Phil Roberts

Awake! this is life
Be not ungrateful for its toll
Cultivate an aura of contentment
Delve deeply for that thing they call a soul

Examine all your motives and intentions
Fling aside delusion in your path
Glimpse through tiny keyhole possibility
Harness all resistance with your wrath

Imitate great ones who came before you
Jeopard not the love within your heart
Karma cannot limit your ability to
Lacerate each falsehood all apart

Mingle with the angels out among us
Never rest until you need the sleep
Obviate the demons which cling to us
Perforate what makes you feel cheap

Querulous we walk the road to happy
Rutted as it is with mire and muck
Spare your energies and sweet entreaties
To walking ghosts who just don't give a ****

Upend all ideas that forestall you
Vindicate what you know to be true
Windmills of illusion won't enthrall you
Xcept when you opt to allow them to

Yesterday may blind us with her memory
Zelos might appreciate our idolatry