Let me be easy
to let me rest my head and close my eyes.
Let me be at peace
with the world and even myself.
Let my weary soul rest.
May the demons sleep tonight.

                                       By Phil Roberts

Oh! to live! the eternal present!
embodying fully the spirit
of a man in the moment.

Who do you vent to when you can't trust anybody?
I feel like I'm constantly growing away from everyone I've ever known.
All my branches moving in different directions,
My leaves change seasons,
But everyone else stays the same.

I feel like I'm shoved into boxes, labeled who I am, what I am, and what I will be.
I feel like I can't tell anyone the truth without being on the edge of losing them, or being told I am wrong, or that I don't fully understand.

I feel like I am underestimated a lot of the time.
Nobody believes that I can do whatever task it is I set out on,
That I am just an ambitious fool,
There's always someone smarter, more proactive, more charming,
Yet, I am trusted to make leading decisions when nobody else can be certain of the next move.

I feel tired of being looked at like I am less,
Whether it be by the tattoos dressing my skin,
My dark lipstick painted mouth,
Or the amount of people who have seen my naked body.

I feel tired of being lied to by everyone I know about small insignificant things.
I feel tired of being out of place everywhere I go.

Hide in your shell
Little hermit
Crab
Isolate retract
Pick at the
Scab
Vulnerable scared
Outside your
Home
Shrivel in the sun
Die
Alone

Fish walking
Grow feline eyes-
Bear claws

All because the sun is hot

Feeding on ancestors

She considerately held a smile
and strained to conceal the strain
of politeness,
asking correct questions
with an ear of patience
conveying interest
to spare feelings from being hurt.
Though I held a mask
of being fooled by her falseness
we knew we knew
and yet the charade continued.
I admire her for that.

the wet summer
Crowns the head of a psalm-
    Unlacing it's proverbial season
The sun adjusts it's pilgrimage
    Making the images of the world:

    From green to yellow to orange
In a foliage of wind and water and ice
    The season begins
On the five senses;
What I see is what I feel
And the thoughts begin a momentum,
   Impending dazzlement
In the erosions of trees,
  Sculpting winds
Falling to the untouchable clarity,
    The soul and earth join,
These endless things
   At the cusp of change
With that familiar feeling.

September
returning
burning
after
sleeping
sweeping
keeping
as we are
recalling
falling
leaving
singing
bringing
Autumn's
long
summer
songs

voices
awaiting ...
dating
wings
ones
that
play
say
me
  joyful
sounding
hymns
capricious
whims

  Gehl
tractor's
are
going
mowing
rowing
growing
cutting
strutting
whil­e
bracing
gracing
meadows
and
fields
yields
cruising
using
all
day
gathered
memories
of
sweet
smelling
hay
a lost
waif
in the sky
I sigh

oh I
remember
My
Dearest
September
  the
lonesome
bittersweet
that
humming
drumming
beat
it
calls me
home again
my
waiting
wanting...

Sweet
September
friend.


Cherie Nolan © 2016

" Every time i think of you, it's hard to catch
my breath.
The bitterness that's branded in me, i lost all
kinds of respect.
Seeing you with another man, looking at him
as you once looked at me.
It will forever be a picture in my mind, probably
until eternity.
It all started with a smile, and how much i made you laugh.
Where in the world did i go wrong?
Was it a matter of just going to fast?
It's a shame that you could never answer my questions, you
made a choice to hop into his car.
You saw me running to you, as you both left
that bar.
I prayed that he would stop, knowing then that
i knew the score.
Only to be woken up in the middle of the night
with non-stop knocking at my door.
So here i kneel upon your grave talking to you
in a whisper.
Praying to my Lord, while  here on His earth He
will teach me to become a forgiver."