can we all hunker down
under the Magnolias
in the sand of the Plantation
driveway under
a confederate flag anymore?

draw our plans like Lee
would have, with a saber
a picture of lines
scribbled in the sand-
our carbine- loaded by our side
at the ready
our heritage the old war
or states rights
or slavery

when so much time and  lives
have passed
and people oughta know more
about peoples,
about history,
about struggling

which all races do.
It wasn't pretty then.
Not the least bit.
And cotton , high or otherwise,
needs no slavery,
and bigotry is
ancient as
sorghum and
horse meat.

And man is man, proven to depend on a
falsity or hate  to
defend his ancestry, his teachings,
instead of the question.

Here, with a stick
I scribble, while
down hunkering,
the least threatening position,
to ask of myself,
have I done what
I could. And the answer
of course,
the black man and the Mexican,
the Redman, the sensible ,
might answer, is
it will take time.
Do we have enough?

I didn't see her for three days

then she was back
but her color was not

where her hair parted
was starkly arid
on her forehead
wasn't the dot of red
and her saree was bleached white

yet nothing was amiss
she intently scaled the fishes
cut them neatly into pieces
though a piece of her went missing

She knows well
for no price
can she stop the sale.

Pete and me had this mate called Charlie
He lived in Manchester
And he was a rogue
Whenever we called on him
He'd rub his hands and say
"What can I sell ya, boys?"

Once when we went
He opened a large drawer and
It was full of gold and silver rings
All types and all sizes
He opened the drawer beneath that
And it was full of ****** and vibrators
I kid you not

Another time we went he said to Pete
" I've got some leather jeans'll fit you,"
So Pete tried them on and they fit
Sort of
This was in the days before stretch fabrics
And what Charlie didn't mention was
These were womens' jeans
So Pete looked at me and said
"What d'you think?"
I tried not to laugh but failed
"They look like leather jodhpurs!
You look like a Hell's Angel equestrian!"

So that was Charlie
The last I heard
Bad people were looking for him
Apart from the police
I often wonder what happened to him

                                    By Phil Roberts

My friend.
I think of you and would love to take away all the pain in your eyes.

My wish is you find peace within yourself and remove your fears,
and you become amazingly happy without stress and worry.
Then you will find the clarity to see how blessed you are in many ways.

Then you can see it is the journey.
Each day do what you can, and don't judge it.
It is gone.
Look forward to another day, other experiences,
and another page in your life.
You get to choose what it will be, and it will be perfect because it is. You can do this. You can do anything.

We set up goals, but they can become hurdles,
then barriers to our feelings.
They become ends with nothing next.
We made it, what now?
We are unique beings and can choose our path.
We can be happy, or choose to only be happy if certain things happen. I would rather just be happy.

Life sends us terrible tragedies sometimes.
Things that tear at our souls and make us doubt our faith.
That rips our heart out and leaves only despair.
I know this feeling. Oh, do I know this feeling.
If we can let go of our fears, try and make sense of our lives,
we can mourn, then remember the joys of times we shared past.
The wonderful days we had.

Or we can hold on to this terrible pain all our lives, let it define us. Even let the terrible pain take over and let it shorten our lives.
We can do that. We can do anything.

It is when we forget who we are, and feel we have no control over our lives or happiness, we are lost.
Become a victim. Why me?
I am cursed, god has abandoned me.
So we can wander in the wilderness for 40 years, or we can find our way.
Maybe someone will guide us.
We can search forever or we can find a teacher.
We can do this. We can do anything.

Sometimes we feel trapped, and accept our fate.
Nothing we can do.
We have so many obligations we have to do.
So many things we can't let go of, all the things we can't change.
This means we feel there are so many things we must do when we don’t.
So many things we won't let go or are afraid to change.
We can do this. We can do anything.

I can't tell you what to do.
I can't tell you which path to take when you come to a fork, a choice.
I hope you will actually realize when you are making those choices.
No matter what you think, you control your life,
unless you decide to give that power to someone else.

So I hope you choose your paths well.
And if one of them comes near me, we can share some magical moments and I recognize them as being special.

You decide when you move, when you pause, or when you stop.
You decide who you will shine your light on;
Who you share a piece of your life with.
You can do this. You can do anything.
I just hope you know when you are making a choice,  
that it will take your life in one direction or the other.

And I hope you choose happiness.
If you let go of the pains and worries you hold so tight to your chest, you will be free to attract those things in life you need.

And then dream of the things you have found so elusive,
the things that will complete you, and they will come to you.
Life is a journey, not a goal because when you reach a goal, it ends. Your life doesn't end now, but it is easy to get lost again.
You think, I’m here, where do I go?
But you can do this, there is no right or wrong.
Who has the power to decide that if not you?
We live with those choices.
You can do this.
You can do anything.
Never forget.

If poetry dies
We all fall apart.
If poetry dies,
Will the sun not shine anymore?
Because the sun is poetic in its own way.
It radiates.
It illuminates.
It inspires.
And if poetry dies
Art dies.
Poetry is everything.
Its existed for centuries.
See this is brought people together since forever ago.
And today, it brings us together.
you and me
And whoever else's poems you delight yourself with.
We create a community.
Here
On this site.
People from all over the world.
Each of us with a story to tell
And one talent we show
poetry
Isnt it great?
A tradition that must live on.
The art of emotion
Some complex
Others delightfully simple.
Poetry
Creates us,
Our creativity
And the desire to write something new
Something **great

in a tea house
a jasmine girl
plays a piano
shimmering a
song of soft keys
to a lotus blush
of fine infusing leaves.

morning, the jewels
of dawn’s filigree nets
a summer storm
in a wintry sky
coaxed out of
a melody of
incense, trembling
to the infinite
blossom of
tranquil, arching
skies.

your poetry, the
cadences of the sun
unwrapped,
the light of the
ocean
breathed
in,
beautiful moons
that weep for
life’s joys,
wild summer
in our hearts.

Some days I worry I've tread to far from the realm of reality,
mental tangents too easily followed into the world of fantasy.
I'd step outside my body to view the situation from afar;
the door has always been but my mind never leaves it ajar.

I want to see the world in all of its actual real glory.
I don't want my mind to define what there is to this story.
I'm afraid I won't be able to percieve where reality ends.
and where the world of hallucinations really begins.