There's a shower of rain
Yet the sun still shines
There must be a rainbow
Somewhere

An old man nods in his chair
He came from nowhere
And went nowhere else
Journeying all the way

Now he journeys through time
Down the aching years
Things that he's seen and done
Some good and wondrous
And some of them terrible

An old man nods in his chair
Travelling
Behind closed eyes
All the things he's seen and done
The people he's known
All the things he's said
Within his nodding head

Tears pour down his face
Down the canyons grooved by time
And yet he smiles
Gently and softly
There must be a rainbow
Somewhere

                       By Phil Roberts

The changing of the seasons
Affects my fickle mood
I'm running out of reasons
To drink water or eat food
I'll just ignore the demons
With the screen to witch I'm glued
There is no hope nor beacon
Just suffering to be viewed
After my soul's been beaten
Dripping blood and black and blue
No answers from the deacon
No solution from the pews
No serotonin secretion
Caused by that ****** Mary shrew
So I wait for the completion
Of my spring and winter blues.

A discomfort that manifests through a plethora of delusions
Torturous thoughts brutalizing my mind like brain contusions
Causing an endless cycle of suffering and confusion
Sifting through the lies, misunderstandings, and illusions
Chasing the light in the darkness praying for it’s diffusion
A razor blade or a bullet are the only solutions

I’m sailing near the fringes of happiness and despair
Along the river of misery where our souls are stripped bare
On the border of the ignorant who live life without a care
And the knowledgeable hanging from nooses painfully aware
It’s a tumultuous journey to the light bringers lair
And should not be undertaken lightly so you must beware
Of all the deceit, misinformation, traps and snares

Self reflection is a dark wooded path filled with lynched souls
A forest of decaying dreams, aspirations, and goals
Endless entrances and passageways to endless rabbit holes
Demons feasting upon children without restraint or control

They say on the other side there’s sunshine and pastures of green
Crystal clear waters and ceremonies where angels convene
Blue sky’s and warm weather where everyone’s just peachy keen
But all I foresee is warfare, cancer victims, and ruptured spleens
Genocide, systematic **** and all things obscene

When was the last day I laid eyes upon you
When was I last able to watch you
Smile and frolic on a sunny day
Before you succumbed to self destructive ways?  

Was it when I threw flowers on your grave
Or when you became the poppy plants slave
When you were diseased infested and depraved
The day I realized you could not be saved?

Or was it when you were still joyful and smiling
Before you were crushed by the weight that was piling
When your soul was still brightly shining?
How far back was your fate aligning,
What moment ended up defining
Precisely what your future would be
and why would  the darkness not choose me?
Why would it embrace you but leave me behind
To rot with the rest of humankind?

When the Lady calls
Darkness is sure to fall
Like tears on a coffin
She calls all too often
She'll beckon for you softly
Smile at you broadly
She sings oh so sweetly
Lady Death has come to meet me.

She wears her hair like a veil
with skin so soft and pale
Her physique; dainty and frail
Take heed of the bleakness,
Don't you dare assume the weakness
Of her seductive melody
the pitch intoxicates me.
Her kiss will steal your breath
beware the embrace of Lady Death.

Her eyes are a piercing blue
And they will pierce straight on through
the scraps that are left of you.
She lays beside me every night,
caresses me until the light
shines bright, in the early morning;
when she leaves me in mourning-
cloudy thoughts, demons scorning.
Lady Death is drawing near,
She whispers nothings in my ear.

She pulls me towards the hereafter
with charming words and soft laughter.
She comes for me in the moonlight,
bringing me comfort in the night.
Yet her heart is black as coal
She comes only for my soul,
To drag me in to the dark.
I fear soon I may embark
on the last adventure,
when it all becomes a blur,
when the light fades away
and I've reached my final day.

You can have my heart, Ms. Reaper;
We'll roam together, Soul keeper.  
For the noose beckons every day,
Darkness is pulling me away.
Come ****** me up in my slumber;
Only you can disencumber
me of my eternal sorrow,
I want your kiss on the morrow.
My heart burns with desire
and Lady Death lit the fire.

The sweet taste of self destruction,
Makes it hard for one to function.
The goal is self evolution
To escape these corrupt institutions.
But what's the solution
Under our eroding constitution?
So much **** confusion.
So many twisted conclusions
Reaffirmed by my delusions.

Pain, pain please go away.
Anguish seems to always stay
Under sunny sky's, on clouded days,
A slave to my pessimistic ways.
Darkness seeps from my fingertips
As the continents drift
And the magnetic poles shift.

Melatonin brings sleepiness
And dreams so hauntingly devious.
Thoughts so painfully tedious,
Even the devil could not conceive of this.
They demand thoughtless obedience,
A single consciousness of greediness,
And anxiety ridden uneasiness.

Mushroom clouds of sorrow,
The bleakness of tomorrow.
Reasons to let the blood flow
To rest six feet below.
There's no peace to be found here
Just cold stares, judgement, and sneers.  
Take me where the maggots eat at flesh
Where dirt and corpses mesh.

I think we're all god ****** insane
Because God ****** us with pain.
With self-hatred flowing through our veins.  
They say Hell is a physical place,
Where evil souls are laid to waste.
So why do we all get a taste
Before our existence is erased?
Because Hell is in the mind
Hell is in the heart
Hell is all you'll find
In a world so dark.

It's easy to say,
You're a "good" father.
Much harder yet,
To prove it.
Mine,
Mine never failed.
**** a mailman,
Rain, sleet or snow?
Drive one hundred and fifty miles,
With the flu,
And talk to me of loyalty,
Of dedication.

My words and my poems
Are no more than explanations
And embellishments
My means of expression
For my life is my "art"
It's what I am and what I write
It's why I need to write
To make sense of the things
I've seen and done
And there are times when
I think I've done far too much
Then, in deep contemplation
I realise I could have done more
And that kind of inner debate
And discussion with myself
Are a large part of my life
Which becomes my version
Of something like "art"

                                         By Phil Roberts