Didn't see it coming,

Struck down to the floor,

But in life you keep on going,

And coming back for more.

Raised to believe what you are told
sometimes they didn't get it right
Beneath the muck and mire reveal
true to life issues with consequences
Fact checks confirm what we all know
however the need to triple check remains
The CORE VALUES we poses make us
who we are and build our character
Days by day we seek to stay connected
to friends, business colleagues & family
Have we lost touch with the personal
affect of shaking hands and saying hello?
Face to face and not only by computer screen,
fax or twitter.  Keeping it real and honest,
telling it strait with confidence every time
Deep within my core, I value; GOD, family,
good friends, hard work, peace and love.

I was there the day the sun
was a ****** embryo & you
finally awoke under sick blue
                                                mist.  

Do you recall when Nell’s femur
fractured  and she cried the way a cow
bawls  when it is realized the calf will be
                                  someone’s veal dinner.  

Do you think of these times
or has a lardy mealworm crawled within
your nasal cavity & inched into your brain
                                             to erase memories?

Gathering atop our 100 year old
dogwood, blackbirds beckon you daily
to return  to your home  of devastating
                                                              trauma.

Nothing was.
Believing the talk took time,
Everything appeared to be,
But none was.

"It was like..."
"As in..."
...on and on were pictures painted,
A queer kind of talk etched in vagueness
My face turned away with a grimace.

Where did clarity clumber to under this onslaught?
When we made everything nondescript,
Opting to settle down low,
Reason and beauty away to stow,
Blurring vision and obscuring thoughts?

We coat emptiness with colour,
Stamp out order with valour,
Enhance vanity with splendor,
And all around us, life drains away,
Flowing unlived

I was never the type
of child that obeyed
much  of anything;
not even the many
times  I was told
not to stare into
the evening sun
when I felt
alone.

In the high sky
Where the air is weak
And full of strangers
Nothing lives for long
Only gypsy-footed drifters
Come here on their way
To who knows where

And this place can only be reached
Without anchor or rudder
Nor even a moral compass
Riding on clouds of smoke
And it's such a long way down
Through falling-about laughter
And blood in the gutter

                                              By Phil Roberts

Morning Sunlight keens like a mother
cries for her dying child & leaves
abandon their trees

while fall presumes winter
will glower like black
ice

hard from
preceding
months,

where the promise
of spring seems
unattainable.