That's me in the middle
In the middle of the world
Just as everyone else
Is in the centre of their's
And we'll never meet
Or even live in the same climate
A thousand miles to west or east
And yet
By the grace of various miracles
Your words may move me
And hopefully, mine will move you
To defy distance and differences

                                                    By Phil Roberts

I’m lost.
Inside a conversation
With a ghost,
Who keeps a case of beer,
On my back porch,
Year round.


I struggle.
With his take,
On things.
At best, he says, you perish in a fury,
His mouth a fresh full fill,
Raw oysters topped on spice baked kelp.

I wait.
To hear the worst.
His pause is theatre 101,
All fog and drama,
Ephemeral guest,
Sweet mist and ****.

I lean.
Against our red rose sun,
The window warm from spring to fall,
My back porch home a hobby now,
The worst he says, in adagio,
Is drudgery, no end at all.

I do not remember,
The goose bumps against my skin,
The ice cubes I would hold in the very palms of my hands
I DO REMEMBER the brutal Darkness I had within
Not of them
Not for him
Not for his group of friends;
For myself.

The interruption of trauma put fourth into my mind.
I was;
The outlined name on the piece of scrap paper
That everyone seemed to gossip about
I was the 1 out of 4...

1 out of 4
I had to feel the slim of shame through the outer course of my skin
It felt as if a vast sign was beginning attached to the back of my shirt
Everyone knew
Throughout the whole school,
Throughout the world
It felt to me...

The bitterness in my throat as I choke out the words of ****,
The word **** itself is not hard to say
The kids used to scream it on the playground each and every day
My life today is full of Rage,
Not for them
Not for him
Not for his group of friends
For I myself

If you truly express your feelings

No one likes to be your Friend

Some answers are right
But they will fail you in real Life

Beware of your answers though

Whatever hand swirled
In the cosmic bucket,
Continues to stir the stars.
Keep swirling them
Across my sky.
In daylight I know
There's work afoot
Maintaining the equilibrium
Of the gyroscope;
But remove it,
And we're feeding oats
To the horsemen's rides.
The stars will fall in upon themselves;
And me,
And you.
Digits of chance, luck, chaos and coincidence,
And the thumb of phenomena
Move through the infinite waters,
Clockwise,
One second at a time,
Swirling, swirling, swirling,
Like the snail on a rock.

We were misplaced and confused,
So, I bought a coffee, sat with a magazine,
But felt so antsy, I went to the Kiosk,
Inquiring about your flight,
Then went looking in the other places.
So many people started looking like you:
Their hair, shape and walk.
So many doppelgangers.
It was getting way too late, hours, in fact.
Now concern settles in,
But seconds make the difference,
Not some butterfly in China.
If I'd lingered, sipping,
I wouldn't have walked right into your tears
Around the corner.
I happened to have a tissue in my pocket
To dry your found eyes;
Now let's get the **** outa here!

I have known enough of life
To speak a word on the value of love,
And the quickness of a final breath,
And the separation caused by death.

I have bent to tie a shoelace,
Been overwhelmed with realization,
That when I stand again to look,
The loved one who came to mind
Has long been buried,
Will not hear me speak,
Nor say my name.

This morning, as we readied
Ourselves for work,
I stopped to pick a thing up,
Realized the joy
Of hearing my wife's sounds:
Cooking eggs,
Running water in the sink,
Putting things away,
And felt a rush of love.

I stood and walked to her,
Kissed her on the nose.

"What was that for?"

"I was overwhelmed by love just now."

One should know how to understand

His own senses

The nature around him

They always try to communicate

We with ignorance not able to interpret.

Oh boy one day you will get it

Searching through my mind
for anything I fear to say.
I have spent thirty-five years
of my life tracking down
my fears,
cornering the slippery ones
and facing the fearsome feral ones.
The few secrets I keep
are no longer for my sake,
but are kept to spare others.
Even those,
I have aired to a few,
close and close-mouthed friends
who hold my trust
as sacred as I hold theirs.
To keep what
hard-earned sanity I have,
I need to keep facing myself,
and stare the evil within me
square in the eyes.

The thing I fear most today
is my arrogance...
my arrogance that there is nothing left to fear.