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Paul Roberts Dec 2013
It's the last few hours..
the  seats and trays put up..
Most of the passengers are starting to wake up..
somewhere down there, thousand feet below...
waiting for me....home.
Asphalt drive ways, no IED's..
warm hugs from friends..
no enemy...
Please wait till we have reached our destination...
palms sweating now..feel a hesitation..
So lucky for me... a tear fills my eye..
not all of us got the chance to be on this flight...
Paul Roberts Jul 2012
Lately I've been fighting back the urge for crying,
really don't know what's wrong with me.
Guess I've lost the grip on my denying
that the dark pain would never be seen.
Doors have opened where the ghosts all were hiding,
got no more fight left in me.
No strength left to keep my face smiling,
time to face cold reality.
Lately.........feel the urge for crying.....
really , I know what's wrong with me.
Paul Roberts Jul 2012
Me and couple of my buddies tailgate of our trucks,
sipping moonshine from coffee cups.
Swatting at mosquitos and telling lies,
getting further from the truth with every sip of the Shine.
Dont be a stranger when you pull up,
yonder is the jug and some extra cups.
Now some  folk cannot handle the sip then  the bite,
leaves more for others, quite all right.
Here comes another stretch of the truth,
now keep on passing the jug once you're through.
Paul Roberts Jul 2012
Would have been too easy to just walk away,
let the words of hate just fade,
live for another day....
but there was pride in motion.
So here is where the tears come from,
look at what cannot be undone,
lost  daughters and sons....
because of pride in motion.
The tribes people had the right words to say,
let the dark horse ride away,
sleep away any shame....
but there was too much pride in motion.
There will many more songs on tongues,
words of what was done....
but we will never learn to stop pride in motion.
So here is where we will lay,
we will never learn to walk away,
let the dark horse  see the other side of day....
let pride stay in motion...............
Paul Roberts Jun 2012
Oh don't go deep into my waters baby,
for I run cold  under neath,
Stay close to your life line baby,
don't go where you caint see.
For I can be refreshing to you baby,
or sweep you out to sea.
No, No, don't go dredging in my dark waters, baby,
got no control over what you will see.
If you let the foolish side of you take over,baby,
you not going to like what you find in me.
I'm like the ocean waters, oh so much uncontrolled energy,
I can give so much to you baby,
just got to know there is no controlling me,
I'm not in charge of my dark waters baby,
so you'd be a fool to  not believe........
Don't go deep into my waters..........Baby.
Paul Roberts Jun 2012
Bathing... she was waist deep in the river,
body glistening in the morning sun.
A sharp contrast to our eyes,
considering the hell we just came from.
The Lt became a West Point gentelman,
Pvt.Pete's face turned a brighter shade of red,
I gave the order to ground rucks and kindly turn our heads.
I walked up to the rivers edge and with broken words and sign,
tried my best to assure  this bathing beauty, that every thing was fine.
Seems though it was us more put out then her,
she gave us all a smile.
air dried her long black hair , then casualy walked by.
She disappeared into the same jungle we had been in for days,
gave one last look back and gave us all a wave.
Now the men all had been smoked, rucks had took their toll
but there was not a single grip when i gave the order to hit the road.
Stories like these can be found in my books,Red Clay Scholar and Tin Roof Memories. Enjoy the journey.
Paul Roberts Jun 2012
On the back of our property, up on a hill,
an old black oak stands still.
Spent alot of time under those limbs,
Dad and me, putting engines back in.
Him just a cuzzin and wrenches flying,
me with a flashlight  with a battery dying.
Run out of daylight and patience at times
but he'd get the old clunker running just fine.
There was time in the making with this man I called Dad,
learning in progress, good or bad.
I learned that a garage is  easier to work in,
easier to find tools thrown when the temper sets in.
Found that my daughters are not afraid of grease on  their hands,
all because of lessons learned from the man called Dad.
Those that take the time, energy , committ,
to the tasks at hand , then the name will fit.
Step up to the plate, take your stand,
welcome to the world of men called Dad.
The journey continues, as promised in Red Clay Scholar and Tin Roof Memories.Enjoy
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