Things get broken
Hearts
Minds
It's no-one's fault
It never is
Not really
Butter fingers and distraction
Without malice or forethought
Things
Like hearts and minds
Slip
And shatter on hard contact with reality

                                                  By Phil Roberts

There are undoubtedly star crossed lovers
And sometimes, universes collide

                                               By Phil Roberts

Does the Butterfly look to the past
know of a time it was something else
completely transformed I think not.

A broken face
yet the hate 
remains. 
Countless reflections-
self inflections
of pain.
Razor sharp
jagged shards-
my soul...
shattered apart
reckless heart-
no control.
But burning tears
can't hide
what I see... 
in that broken face-
the disgrace 
in me....

your split-lipped compliments are
boulder-heavy with caramel
undertones,
while i’ve got my basic stardusted
collarbones
and dancing fingertips;
ink stained and lust-conforming.

you’re stitching your ideas
onto my cerebellum,
and as i cry ‘foul!’
you fly away like
you’re free.
spit speckled with blood
and my dna,
you laugh and cry and kiss
like you’re mine.

dreams are growing
like wild flowers, and babe they
make me itch for some sort
of way
to alleviate the pain.
but people claim,
that these moments
we spend are never going
to be more
than little discomfort
and i dare say
that they’re wrong.

my body is not weather proof.
it will wash away
in the rain,
so hold me under your umbrella
and keep me
by your side,
because that way
if all else fails
we’ll wash away
together.

art does not need a purpose
but may our purpose
be art

it is a wonderful world
out there somewhere
where brethren plead
for love and peace again
and woodstock rises it's head above
Manson
where corporate greed
individualism
can be not replaced
but added to by societal caring
where the
farmers have enough to share
the workers are well rewarded
the banks feel empathy
and government is us
where the times have changed Bob
to where no one among us not the poorest
goes without
where the wealthy
keep their
mansions
porches and yachts
their mar-a-lagos
but have hearts , too.
In any swing a long way one way
comes the other way around eventually
and I see
from this hard right way up narcissismic and me
pendulum
a hard swing back to peace signs
a rebound in flower covered
VW buses and
sit-ins
and flowers
in guns.

It was us two
With arguments
That weren't new.
It was us two
Minus my ego,
Just yours.
Was I right,
Or was I wrong?
My chest caved in,
I can't breathe
Out of my lungs.
You left me,
And I missed you;
I needed you,
Not just a picture
From my cellphone -
All I had
Were some tissues
To cry into.
I was lost
And you forgot me,
I called out to you
In the darkness and
Now that my eyes
Have adjusted
You want to call me.

I'm good here,
Thank you for asking.

this is poetry forever on repeat
a six mile drive to our one and only shop

they don't sell alcohol until past ten am
its 6am and I'm all out of smokes

all along the shore road
and its officially Summer (yeah)

so its going to be 24 miles
two trips(but at least its Summer yeah)

one for the smokes and food
then back again after ten for the wine.