this poem
is not about you

even though
your spirit is in every word
your voice sounds strong
in the halls of my mind
telling me things
I am now sure
I want to know

this poem is
about me

trying to understand
you

We live in our soul,
Our hope makes us whole
We grow with our mind,
But grow weak with time
We bleed from our skin
But die from within
We came into light,
Then we fade into night
We may drift apart,
But love with our heart
..
And we are the people
We change, and are equal
We learn, love and live
We cry, hurt and forgive.
And forever, as we strive
We are the humans,
We will survive.

Stuck in the desert
Stuck in the rut
Now I'm trying to gain moisture
In the revolting heat
It's hard as hell
I can hear myself yell
As far as you can tell
My energy is far too vast to be depleted

Come softly, stranger
Step inside the light
Here is home of a sort
Here is nowhere else to go

Such staggering ambiguity
Such all-consuming cruelty
I see it all so clearly now
Wide-eyed and unheeding
Unaware of double-dealing
I was an innocent
And then I was born
Wise to the lies of the womb
And with a grudge for being disturbed

                                           By Phil Roberts

When you come
you’ll reach to take what
I’ve clutched tight

You’ve done it a lot
— especially lately

You did it to that unsuspecting lady
when she stepped off the bus
on Philpotts Road

To that sleeping girl
with the mousy hair in
the children’s ward

To her father three months later

To my own dad while he prayed
by the bed and slumped

To that old pope who shook
like a wet dog in a sou’wester

I read again last week how you visited
the homes of those who wouldn’t
splash blood on their doors

Now that’s something!

I know what you want and I’m onto you

When you come I’ll be ready — I hope
and I’ll hand it to you without protest

But I have a request, if I may, and I hope
you’ll ask on my behalf:

Please don’t visit her before you call on me