You can’t forget;
that there is another way to fight
with an open palm
instead of a closed fist
and with a stubborn refusal
to hurt those who have hurt you

Daily mounting pressures
What hides behind the eyes
You've tried your best to catch her
This crazy thing called life

While imitating art
No one saw you draw the signs
Sadly here you are
Dressed up like suicide

If you had asked permission
Would they grant the fall
Have you ever heard them listen
To your cries before

Set with tunnel vision
To the world outside
Giving out you give in
Dressed up like suicide

What was once distance thunder
Now goes off in your head
The down pour pulls you under
Held by the hand of death

A cushion for your problems
Sign on the dotted line
Smoke em if you got em
Dressed up like suicide

sitting at the kitchen table
crying,
and trying to
explain to my mom
why i stayed
while she told me,
with small kaleidoscopes of
warped devastation
pooling in her eyes
and rolling down her cheeks,
that this is scaring her.
because, it sounds like
i’m the type of girl
who stays,
while her husband beats her.
the girl she raised.
sitting at the kitchen table
crying,
and realizing
that when you ran your hands
through my hair as you kissed me,
you were twirling my future around
your fingers.
this is scaring me
because you’ll be the guy
who carved the hole in my chest
that stays
i know i will see your fingerprints
in all the hands that will come after you.

And I Will Run.

Pills and guns
Is what they did for fun
Violence crawled their minds
Only separation was to find
These tendencies are coming alive
Carried in the wind like a bee hive
She was the first
To realize her ****** thirst
He was the second
To realize he was demented
They each took their ways of violence
And when he died, she was silent
She smiled to know he was safe
In heaven where he could relate
To the victims that had lost their life
At the hand of one man's knife
This was her best wish to him
All she wanted was him to give in
To the regret he had felt
In order to make something else
But that all had passed
Her love never would last
To end all her pain
She grabbed a knife
And cut her vain

She is grass cut fresh on the hill.
She is the chaos that's holding me still.
She is birds in a nest in a tree.
She is the formlessness I cannot see.
She is here.
She is now.
  She is bread in an oven.
She is a river of blood.
She  is the vein in Atlas' forearm.
She   is  juggling chainsaws and daffodils.
She    is the deer in the forest grown from the ashes of the last forest.
She  is everything and nothing and something and some more or less.
She is the Goddess who birthed all your gods.
She is the oldest and oddest of all.
    Sheisheaven,hell,thedeepestwell.
She is answer E) All of the above.
She is fierce, violent, conflagrate love.
She is the hole punch around the binder ring.
She is the throat through which we sing.
She is swimming through my eyes.
She is running through my mind all night.
She is whispering herself in my ear.
She is the ashes, the forest, the deer.
She will repeat it, if you did not hear.
She is She is Again and Again.

She is:

A story.


A good one.

I will read I will read Again and Again.

In the night somewhere
A baby cries
And somewhere else
Lovers sigh
And as time passes
An old man dies

Somewhere out in space
A planet turns
And light years away
A star sun burns
Making us merely dust
And no-one learns

                                 By Phil Roberts