Go placidly amid the noise and haste,
and remember what peace there may be in silence.
As far as possible without surrender
be on good terms with all persons.
Speak your truth quietly and clearly;
and listen to others,
even the dull and the ignorant;
they too have their story.
Avoid loud and aggressive persons,
they are vexations to the spirit.
If you compare yourself with others,
you may become vain and bitter;
for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.
Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.
Keep interested in your own career, however humble;
it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.
Exercise caution in your business affairs;
for the world is full of trickery.
But let this not blind you to what virtue there is;
many persons strive for high ideals;
and everywhere life is full of heroism.
Be yourself.
Especially, do not feign affection.
Neither be cynical about love;
for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment
it is as perennial as the grass.
Take kindly the counsel of the years,
gracefully surrendering the things of youth.
Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune.
But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings.
Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.
Beyond a wholesome discipline,
be gentle with yourself.
You are a child of the universe,
no less than the trees and the stars;
you have a right to be here.
And whether or not it is clear to you,
no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.
Therefore be at peace with God,
whatever you conceive Him to be,
and whatever your labors and aspirations,
in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul.
With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams,
it is still a beautiful world.
Be cheerful.
Strive to be happy.

Every time I hear you utter
Snort an exasperation

I notice my flinch
Tension
An arising desire
Fix, solve
Help it go
Somewhere
Outside of you or me

Thoughts roam
Across my forehead

What if
There is another way
Accepting vexations
Chagrin does not stay
When I see that part of you

My manner of thinking, so you say, cannot be approved.
Do you suppose I care? A poor fool indeed is he who adopts a manner of thinking for others! My manner of thinking stems straight from my considered reflections: it holds with my existence, with the way I am made. It is not in my power to alter it; and were it, I’d not do so. These manners of thinking you find fault with is my sole consolation in life; it alleviates all my sufferings in prison, it composes all my pleasures in the world outside; it is dearer to me than life itself. Not my manner of thinking but the manner of thinking of others has been the source of my unhappiness. The reasoning man who scorns the prejudices of simpletons necessarily becomes the enemy of simpletons; he must expect as much, and laugh at the inevitable. A traveler journeys along a fine road. It has been strewn with traps. He falls into one. Do you say it is the traveler's fault, or that of the scoundrel who lays the trap? If then, as you tell me are willing to restore my liberty if I am willing to pay for it by the sacrifice of my principles or my tastes, we may bid one another an eternal adieu, for rather than part with those, I would sacrifice a thousand lives and a thousand liberties, if I had them. These principals and these tastes, I am their fanatic adherent; and fanaticism in me is the product of persecutions I have endured from my tyrants. The longer they continue their vexations, the deeper they root my principles in my heart, and I openly declare that no one need talk to me of liberty if it is offered to me only in return for their destruction.

Les ondes de la mer me caressent doucement.
Je me sens si heureux chaque seconde de mon être
Et j’oublie mes chagrins si divers légèrement.
Tout ce qu’on veut maintenant est s’unir aux belles-lettres
En quoi notre destin fut écrit autrefois,
Où les chemins de la vie sont toujours dégagés
Et nous sommes libérés des regrets, des outrages
Qui empêchent notre envie de partout voyager.
Nous manquons seulement de courage de fuir -
De nos craintes, vexations, amertumes et avis...
En étant caressés par les ondes de la mer
Commençons de nouveau: nouveau seuil de la vie.

snuffed out
the TV
blare

flung
away the
cell phone

cast aside
delusions,
vexations,

switched
off the
lights

stood in
the dark
then

ear to
its heart,
rain...

I was once called
A communist, a fascist and an anarchist
All in one sentence
Which I thought was quite impressive
And this was because I was a union man
My fellow workers elected me to represent them
In our dealings with management
I was involved in negotiations
About the application of regulations
And other tedious vexations
And on rare occasions
I led disputes and even strikes
And, over the years
I helped to save many jobs
Not numbers
But peoples' livelihoods
Some will say I was a rabble-rouser
An agitator
Some can say as they like
All I ever did
Was stand up for the underdog
And I hope I always will

                                   By Phil Roberts

As long...
               as the rainbows reach
    the wayward’s hand
As long...
               as the dawning light
    touches the griefs of men

The burst of hope that trails along
     the shame suffering road
Forgiving the vexations, I sowed
     setting it free and far I go

As long...
              as the page is turning
     my stories tell to this day
As long...
              as the company of love
     can find the heart its way

Above the heavens, below the bend
      hope places to commend
Bringing back the joy to my soul
      together thee as long till the end

Crusading for love
to understand being
leaving the lens no vision for seeing
momentary glances keep the spirit alive
with vexations abound they tear at my soul
Nashing and clawing
As i stand at this yawning
Will i jump in will i submit
Crashing around me in this sulphur pit
Aghast it stops the rational clicks
that clear inner voice turning dark into light
vexations and demons they leave with great flight
I had known all along i was up for this fight x

****** *******.

Verily, thou art.

If thine own charms woulds't not deliquesce my pow'rs,
       mayhaps my quill
woulds't obey my

commands...

Yet ~ evermore ~ am I slave

to thy smirks

and provocations

...both vexations to me.


I turn 'round,
but come back

                       time again.

(Provoking my ire.)

Thou

                   knave.

    Rogue.

(****** *******.)

Thou've been a naughty swain.
Get thee to my rooms.

Go placidly amid the noise and haste,
and remember what peace there may be in silence.
As far as possible without surrender
be on good terms with all persons.
Speak your truth quietly and clearly;
and listen to others,
even the dull and the ignorant;
they too have their story.
Avoid loud and aggressive persons,
they are vexations to the spirit.
If you compare yourself with others,
you may become vain and bitter;
for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.
Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.
Keep interested in your own career, however humble;
it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.
Exercise caution in your business affairs;
for the world is full of trickery.
But let this not blind you to what virtue there is;
many persons strive for high ideals;
and everywhere life is full of heroism.
Be yourself.
Especially, do not feign affection.
Neither be cynical about love;
for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment
it is as perennial as the grass.
Take kindly the counsel of the years,
gracefully surrendering the things of youth.
Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune.
But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings.
Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.
Beyond a wholesome discipline,
be gentle with yourself.
You are a child of the universe,
no less than the trees and the stars;
you have a right to be here.
And whether or not it is clear to you,
no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.
Therefore be at peace with God,
whatever you conceive Him to be,
and whatever your labors and aspirations,
in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul.
With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams,
it is still a beautiful world.
Be cheerful.
Strive to be happy.

Go placidly amid the noise and haste,

and remember what peace there may be in silence.

As far as possible without surrender

be on good terms with all persons.

Speak your truth quietly and clearly;

and listen to others,

even the dull and the ignorant;

they too have their story.

Avoid loud and aggressive persons,

they are vexations to the spirit.

If you compare yourself with others,

you may become vain and bitter;

for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.

Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.

Keep interested in your own career, however humble

it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.

Exercise caution in your business affairs;

for the world is full of trickery.

But let this not blind you to what virtue there is;

many persons strive for high ideals;

and everywhere life is full of heroism.

Be yourself.

Especially, do not feign affection.

Neither be cynical about love;

for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment

it is as perennial as the grass.

Take kindly the counsel of the years,

gracefully surrendering the things of youth.

Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune.

But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings.

Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.

Beyond a wholesome discipline,

be gentle with yourself.

You are a child of the universe,

no less than the trees and the stars;

you have a right to be here.

And whether or not it is clear to you,

no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.

Therefore be at peace with God,

whatever you conceive Him to be,

and whatever your labors and aspirations,

in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul.

With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams,

it is still a beautiful world.

Be cheerful.

Strive to be happy.


- Max Ehrmann

I was once called
A communist, a fascist and an anarchist
All in one sentence
Which I thought was quite impressive
And this was because I was a union man
My fellow workers elected me to represent them
In our dealings with management
I was involved in negotiations
About the application of regulations
And other tedious vexations
And on rare occasions
I led disputes and even strikes
And, over the years
I helped to save many jobs
Not numbers
But peoples' livelihoods
Some will say I was a rabble-rouser
An agitator
Some can say as they like
All I ever did
Was stand up for the underdog
And I hope I always will

                                   By Phil Roberts

Crusading for love
to understand being
leaving the lens no vision for seeing
momentary glances keep the spirit alive
with vexations abound they tear at my soul
Nashing and clawing
As i stand at this yawning
Will i jump in will i submit
Crashing around me in this sulphur pit
Aghast it stops the rational clicks
that clear inner voice turning dark into light
vexations and demons they leave with great flight
I had known all along i was up for this fight x

Behold San Gabriel!
the far mountain is
stunningly ascendent
the city's smog
dissipates into a
a welcomed hiatus
white glaciated peaks
bespeak nature’s regency
a City of Angels’ crowned
in a mystic halo once again

Thunderous roads are silent
highway death tolls nose dive
life expectancy for the driven grows
Mother’s cry a million less tears
Tollkeepers palms are left wanting

For the uberites
the celestial scales
of supply and demand
have tipped gas prices in our favor
A litre of petrol costs but a few pesos

cars roaring down side streets
coating curbs with
noxious exhaust has stopped
Street running stick ballers eye
2nd base manhole covers
as safe to steal again

Some have been granted
A reprieve from a harried life
vexations of frenetic ways dwindle
The welcomed respite of downtime
Salves a bruised and battered soul

We’re invited  to dip our toes
Into small pools of leisure time
Escape to a hobby’s fascination
luxuriate in childlike frivolity

Time has opened for families
An evening’s repast
is holy communion
The wholesomeness
of a home cooked meal
Manna from heaven our daily bread
We share a sip from a cup of salvation

Climb up slide down
some shoots and ladders
Gingerly remove a funny bone
Without the red nose buzzing
Spend time in Abuela’s old kitchen
Learn her secrets of family recipes
Passed down from ancient
Borinquen forebears

Challenge creative sensibilities
Let the muse whisper a song
Into your willowy ear
Draw a portrait of a loved one
wash a buena vista watercolor
Compose a poem of perfect simplicity
record the glorious fictions of family history
Place yourself at the center of its epic struggle
Go noodle a tune on the old upright
Dust off that old guitar and flash some new hot licks
Take out the bongos and bang away
The blues are routed for another day

Sing a family circle song
where Daddy sings bass
Take an afternoon nap,
let the cat purr you to sleep
Enjoy the escape
of an afternoon delight
Than walk the dog afterward
in warm eventide twilite

The skies are resoundingly silent
Gushing engines contrail plumes gone
Jets blessedly overthrown by
silhouettes of crows on the wing
Listen to a new meditative lullaby, the
splendid symphony of avian adagios

Plug in to your body electric
Learn to breathe as deeply as you love
Listen to the rhythms of your heartbeat
And fine tune the condition of your soul

Eschew usurpations of politics
And tyrants that cajole to oppress
Seek solidarity in common citizenship
Take refuge in the courage of integrity
And dwell in the unity of the holy spirit

May a pandemic of love consume you
May your crisis open a portal of grace
May the closeness of friends and family
Restore you to a much better place

San Gabriel Mountains beckon
His halo crowns us all
stirred by the trilling trumpet
Wholly affirmed and filled
We answer his call

Bob Dylan: Thunder on the Mountain

Puyallup WA
4/21/20
jbm

To Poems Lost,

To you who sat on paper drenched
behind the shower curtain,
for I could not get the shampoo
and the soap out fast enough--
dry towels lingering in their mocking silence.

To Poems Lost,

To you who sat unbuckled
in the passenger seat
with the window rolled down,

your flowery head
sticking out catching the cool breeze
in the evening sky,

I, suddenly aware of dangers imminent,
reached with one hand to
hastily buckle you in

and alas--
I lunged,
hoping to pin you
to the upholstery;

you leaned farther and farther
out the window, 'til the current
grasped you by the throat
and ****** you into the night air--
away into oblivion.

I cursed and moan'd,
jabbing and grasping hopelessly at the space
that once entertained your angelic presence.

To Poems Lost,**

Peeking slowly into my consciousness
mistaken for silly dreams,
I awoke in bed--dripping a cold sweat,
breathing heavily.

I laughed abruptly, lightly,
trusting my mind to remember your fleeting ghosts,
moments of serendipitous ecstasy,
a mild epiphany;

so I dared myself not to reach for my pencil
sitting eagerly atop my bedside dresser,
where the concerned blank page pleaded  
with my muddied conscience.

Tired eyes had just as soon closed shut,
and I awaited you as my bedfellow yet again
to wake me up timely in dawn's breach of night.

And alas--
I woke up,
finding the covers next to me ruffled,
but the body that had authored such vexations
appearing to have slipped into the void.

Had you followed my childhood fears under the bed?
Did you fall with a thud to the stifling carpet,
where protruding claws raked you into the hungry abyss?
I squelch'd the urge to hang my head over the bedside and seek you.

In light's breach of slumber,
before the lids of my eyes peel'd back,
did you leap out into the Lovely
to be whisked away into the brisk morning air?

Either way, you are gone,
so I curse and moan,
clutching the lonely bed-sheets
that once wrapt your transient spirit.

I still wait, eagerly,
for your return,
my lovelies.

There’s something just so odd about
always balancing on the fence over God
whatever that is
one morning you’re eating your breakfast next to him
and when your coffee gets cold, you go to refresh it
returning to an empty chair in the kitchen
despite checking the closet and under the bed
driveway empty, he disappears without a trace.
I shrug and I go back to my monotonous day
it never made a difference to me in the first place
smashing my moral compass into the bowl
and stepping on the eggshells


there’s something just so strange about
always being so apathetic about the afterlife
one day I’m staring at my own creation in the face
the next I’m jotting down my signature on a check to the nearest
*** store, florescent green lights against the pavement
******* and live chat rooms
and I wonder if something is watching me
peering constantly over my shoulder
nodding his head in disappointment as I crumple up the receipt
stepping out my burning cigarette **** on the concrete
flickering parking lot lights
Angels spreading their wings
Angels spreading their legs

there’s something just so dreadful
this self-indulgent craving to feel loved by something
twiddling your thumbs at the dentist’s office
the clawing from inside your skull
daydreaming the stains on the carpet into animals like clouds
smile and nod to the receptionist
listlessly discussing the weather
slitting the throat of each arising thought
every last insatiable woe, your vexations left behind
a shell of emotions asphyxiated and blue
bleeding out on the waiting room floor
achieving peace means to destroy what kills you
Isn’t that how He always did it?

there’s something just so pathetic
seeking to blame a deity for being this way
i did not forge my own existence,
but I place the pieces of myself back together every night
that was never anyone’s responsibility but my own
the ego’s entitlement to believing an omnipotent being
owes me some sort of answer
selfish enough to just not want to face that bitter lonesomeness
the emptiness, the void, oblivion
being too much of a ******* coward to face it all alone
greedy little ape, just hungry for any answers
I just want my hand to be held
i’m so terrified to be human
but aren’t we all

Many a time I catch myself
Being vexed by someone
Who gets under my skin
I can't let it go unnoticed
Brushing it under the carpet
Has never been my style
I think of how I might
Get rid of that feeling
Without having to bruise

After years of experimenting
I have come to realize
That it is coming from within me
As I have had some unresolved issue
That needed to be looked at
In objective contemplation
When I or someone close to me
Have done the same to others
I moved on without correcting

As age progresses, I wish
I would come out clean
From all that I have passed
Having asked pardon
Or having prayed for one
Who was irksome without knowing

This awareness puts me at ease
With new experiences,
As each a tool for a better conscience-
I could just pray for that someone
When s/he too doesn't know
What s/he is doing
Or even when known
Didn't know how to correct

My fruitful moments are spent thus
In praying for friends and foes alike
As the friend of today could have been
A foe in the past
And the foe in the present
Could very well be
A friend in the future
Regardless of the friend/foe
Dynamic, I would beseech
As it puts my mind at ease
With all that IS, making me wonder,
Have I moved on to becoming
Wiser through my vexations?

Love can bring you pleasure
Love can bring you pain
A delicate balance of loss and gain
It can lift you up
It can knock you down
Make you feel so smart
Let you know you're a clown

Love, the sweet vexations of love
Love, the revelations of love

I thought he really loved me
I thought I was his world
Turns out I was just another girl
One of many
He had strung out on his line
Boys don't cha know
That was a kick in my behind

Love, the desecration of love
Love, the revelations of love

Just another girl
What a slap in my face
I'm on a mission now to erase
Every single trace
Of that man
Would you like to help me
Formulate a plan

*Love, oh the frustrations of love
Love, oh the complications of love
Love, the revelations of love

For an attractive man, he can drowned his sorrows in frivolous interactions and ****** encounters with women of little depth.

For a rich man, he can dispel his vexations with opulence and the ego fiscal stability brings

For the genius? Without either of the other two gifts, he is left to eek out his days in abhorrence. Alone, carrying the excess of his own mind.

If only there was a way to monetize IQ points....

There is, just not literally.

Go placidly amid the noise and haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence.
As far as possible, without surrender, be on good terms with all persons.
Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others,
even to the dull and ignorant; they too have their story.
Avoid loud and aggressive persons, they are vexations to the spirit.
If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain and bitter,
for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.
Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.
Keep interested in your own career, however humble;
it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.
Exercise caution in your business affairs, for the world is full of trickery.
But let this not blind you to what virtue there is;
many persons strive for high ideals,
and everywhere life is full of heroism.
Be yourself. Especially do not feign affection. Neither be cynical about love;
for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment it is as perennial as the grass.
Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth.
Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune.
But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings.
Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.
Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself.
You are a child of the universe no less than the trees and the stars;
you have a right to be here. And whether or not it is clear to you,
no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.
Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be.
And whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life,
keep peace with your soul. With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams,
it is still a beautiful world. Be cheerful. Strive to be happy.

Max Ehrmann

I find the world the most beautiful when it rains
And I do not mean light summer drizzles with soft cotton clouds
I mean earth destroying claps of thunder
I find the world the most beautiful when it pours
When the sky is ballpoint pen navy and the clouds onx stones
The worlds utterly breathtaking when the cosmos seem to rumble and tremor
The world is so gorgeous when the wind whips across skin like barbed wire tearing across the surface
I am not a religious person but the closest I’ve come to believing in god is standing in the middle of his storm
Palms turned to the sky drowning in his salvation singing praises of hallelujah
Hallelujah thank you lord
The closets I’ve come to feeling religion is seeing the tempest being realesed like a holy beast for the swell of rain is not gods tears
It’s gods anguish
Sputtering out in the form of bone splintering white-hot static
Angels have often been portrayed as soft wispy creatures
But they are really the children of typhoons
Weeping their fat chilling tears into the soil
For they are crying for our sins The haunting call of ***** music ripping through their vocal chords raining onto the pavement
These rain drop bullets are not signs of gods sadness
They are signs of gods wrath
Tearing up the earth like a war zone
Punishing us for our misdeeds
In these times god is reducing us back to the simple creatures that we are
Because not even humans can control his vexations
We in these moments are brought back down to our knees in prayer
Our petty ‘Forgive me father”s slipping down our tongue like water droplets
Pleading begging screaming out over the crackles of lighting
Screaming out over gods wrath
But by God this sight of destruction is nothing but beautiful
And yet
The world is the most beautiful when it pours
But it is utterly ethereal in its aftermath
In the still clean quite like an empty chapel
The sun rearing it’s head from behind wispy feather clouds
All is calm
For this is the worlds post-baptism
It’s rejuvenation
It’s rebirth
Water droplets trickling down stain glass pink petals
The dove re-emerges calling out its choir song
The bluebird responds humming out his own hymns
The closest I’ve come to believing in god is in the wake of the storm
In the hush of washed out sins repainted pale blue
For in this moment we are all reduced to nothing but Gods children
In the peace after the storm

Warming Up!

She speaks to thee in words,
Not of spoken type,
She talks to thee in poetry,
Then you come to dance with me,
A blend of vexations mischief mixed,
The black heart is being fixed,

Slow puncture so deflated,
Very slowly trickles out,
The blood runs warm,
Although her heart is cold,
Sour blood dissolved through water's edge,

In a dizziness of fashion,
Her life is full with passion rich,
Magic from two crazy pens,
When you and she will meet again,
To write of nature, love and pain!
By ladylivvi1

© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)

Warming Up!

She speaks to thee in words,
Not of spoken type,
She talks to thee in poetry,
Then you come to dance with me,
A blend of vexations mischief mixed,
The black heart is being fixed,

Slow puncture so deflated,
Very slowly trickles out,
The blood runs warm,
Although her heart is cold,
Sour blood dissolved through water's edge,

In a dizziness of fashion,
Her life is full with passion rich,
Magic from two crazy pens,
When you and she will meet again,
To write of nature, love and pain!
By ladylivvi1

© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)

again and again and
again
steady beating of footsteps
and the rustling of soft breaths.
noisy silence piercing
no corner is free from it
and again and again and again
the cycle starts
no sound closing in
and breaking out
and again and again
knives cut through an auditory cloth
lost memories spilling out,
again and again and again
eight hundred and forty times
until utter collapse.

I was once called
A communist, a fascist and an anarchist
All in one sentence
Which I thought was quite impressive
And this was because I was a union man
My fellow workers elected me to represent them
In our dealings with management
I was involved in negotiations
About the application of regulations
And other tedious vexations
And on rare occasions
I led disputes and even strikes
And, over the years
I helped to save many jobs
Not numbers
But peoples' livelihoods
Some will say I was a rabble-rouser
An agitator
Some can say as they like
All I ever did
Was stand up for the underdog
And I hope I always will

                                   By Phil Roberts

Suspended in time
thwarted ambitions
trapped and imprisoned
by myriad vexations-

dim and misty horizons
the test of uncertain circumstance
dreams that dissolve and disintegrate
life seems more like a death-sentence.

Deep desires, hidden longings
Are the base of our nightmares.
Dishonest and greedy
Is why no one cares.

I tried to be better
But it was all for not.
My guilt and my anger
Have caused me to rot.

Vexations and secrets;
My head spins round and round.
Isolation, devastation;
My scream makes no sound.

I’m drowning, I’m falling;
I can barely breathe.
Desperation, damnation;
I only want to leave.

So close now, I can see it;
My escape for eternity.
It’s selfish, so selfish;
My chance at serenity .

It’s coming, it’s closing;
It’s finally at the end.
This hellish, this blemished
Life has come to an end.