Is it love or is it lies?
Perhaps both, or neither,
Inflamed by need,
Quenched by self,
Swollen with desire.
Imagination fans the fire
Until the floorboards creak outside my door
- Then I brink for her no more.

Take a dip in the peaceful waters found in another's poems
find refreshment for the soul
Avoid the tempest troubled waters contained in the jealous sea
instead choose peace and tranquility

I think I could know
How you might feel about her.
I can see it,
The way she makes you smile.
But honestly, you arn't the same
Beside her.
Waiting for boy's night out
Ain't ever gonna be my style.

I remember when you were a rebel,
Just a renegade without a plan.
I can see, somehow, she's got you dreaming
Of playing house.
Think of what you're doing, brotherman!

Can't you see beyond her glamour?
She's cast a wicked spell on you.
That thing you feel for which you clamor,
It ain't true love; don't think she loves you, too.

I know it's not my place to tell you that she's posing,
And posting up inside your bed to get Some of your dough.
Who am I but some kind of little tag along?
But I can see the hurt she's going to put you through...

I'm sorry, Dude.
I don't mean to be a blocker.
Not that anything else could stand
Between you and her,
The pixie with her fairy dust.
All your priorities have been re-arranged.

Every time we meet she has to be a part of it.
It's not my business, but I just don't want to see.
When the lies unfurl,
I don't want you to be mad at me,
For having been the one to have tell you all about her scheming ways.

She knows I know.
She's as sly as night is shady.
When she whispers your name after dark
With her lilt,
You don't care a thing about your pride.
You give it all to her.
Everything you've got to give
Before she even ask for it.
You give it all to her,
Everything, Everything,
Everything to her...

So, I'm giving up
The Times we spend together.
I know right now you're chasing after your high.
I'll still love you
As much as any brother.
I'll be here for you whenever you find the time.

I'm sorry, Dude.
I don't aim to be a blocker.
Not that anything else could stand
Between you and her,
The pixie with her fairy dust.
All your priorities have been re-arranged.

I think I could know,
How you might feel about her.
I can't blame you,
But open up your eyes.
A girl like her
Is never going to be faithful.
Not to you, or anyone she knows.

So, I'm giving up
The Times we spend together.
I know right now you're out chasing your high.
When you hurt, just know that I hate it for you.
Maybe, next time, you won't brush everything else aside.

One day I'll be out strolling.
Or maybe pool, or bowling.
There'll come a time
When the binds
Of fruitless love no longer keep.
One day we'll fly
To far off never ever land.
And leave this past behind.

There'll come a day,
And come what may,
We will pick back up where we let it go,
That's how we roll.

I think I could know
How you feel about her.
What made you think
That's something I couldn't know.
Yes, I will miss you,
Don't want to kiss you,
No ****, Bro,
I love you.
But for now,
I need to let you go.

I'm sorry, Dude.
I don't aim to be a blocker -
Not that anything else could stand
Between you and her,
The pixie with her fairy dust.
All your priorities have been re-arranged.

The last man alive
raised his gun
and emptied it
into the sun
as it sank
out of sight
left alone
in the night
he couldn't decide
what he'd won.

Long hikes and motorbikes,
Cabins, starlight, kids and tykes,
Parents, and mommies soon to be,
Gather at the greenest tree.
Spirits in ******* are unbound,
Where the silence  drowns the sound;
The victories that love has won.
We are never far when we are one.

Twisted sheets, mind on stutter
Unable to sort through this midnight clutter
Put it away for tomorrow
But what to do with my gnawing sorrow?
I circle soft blue on color book pages
Hoping the repetition eventually assuages
The raw edged reality of lonely dark hours
Filling the void with Crayola flowers

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

I do dive into the blue sometimes
I flow with the current and
sometimes I drift with the tide.
I know, swimming at the surface
you will be there with me by my side

These ups and downs will take me nowhere,
one day I fear when the waves will die
I will finally reach the shore
I know, on that last ride
you will be there with me by my side

My dreams, some did materialize
some got washed away like that sand castle
but even when I have no where to hide,
I know, with me at the beach
you will be there with me by my side

On this tiny boat, we have set our sail
we, together will merge in to the sea
through these river bends narrow and wide,
I know, rowing with me
*you will be there with me by my side

our bread and butter...
     the web of stars,
     the scatter of moons
     and orbiting planets.
the entire universe
harvested and crammed
into the metre,
of a poetic verse.

our bread and butter...
     harnessing the regal rays of the sun.
     inflating the fluff of quiet clouds.
     drinking up the winds of the weather.
     revering the magic in the flight of birds.
we fill our cups to the brim...
with fantastical dreams
and let spill
over parchment
the cornucopia of idealised words.

our bread and butter...
the incessant peeling and picking
on healing wounds.
of which we have learnt to savour...
     let bleed
     the willing blood...
     feed the seeds
     with impending flood.
nurture to fruition
thoughts stunted in discretion.
bring to light
thoughts hidden in the nether.

our bread and butter...
we dip...
the nibs,
of our word worn feathers.
let them sink,
shallow beneath the surface
to the sanctity of a familiar place.
     *casting our trials,
     and tribulations...
     pent up emotions,
     and what we think
     unto paper
     with the burn of
     everlasting ink.

Holy water into wine. Beer from barley.
Walking on the roof of a brewery,
Contemplating how Jimmy Fallon's
Finger never really seems to heal.

Combine harvester headlights dance
On the living room walls
As I lean back on my white IKEA
Sofa, tracing long hairs and

Fingerprints of lovers gone,
Wondering why I chose such a
Revealing colour.
Suppose the transparency matches

That of my soul's lining.
Holy water into wine.
Fields of gold now liquid painkillers
Slurring the voices in my head that

Pick fights with my heart over
Insignificant issues.
I lip synch to the music of my
Neglected talents and the memories

Of inspiration attached.
Bullets like knuckles rapping, rapping
At my empty chamber
Door.

Every finger I ever broke
Was from typing or
Punching
Walls.

Sometimes I put on the mask of
Poet, and pretend to be writing  
For as long as it takes to fool
The empty pages.