I've got these hands
bony, scarred, dried and cracked
and they can do great things
or so I'm told
but have you ever tried to
pick yourself up?
I mean really pick yourself up?
when you fall flat on your face
when you're **** out of luck
that requires a strength
I sadly do not possess
couldn't drag myself out of the mud
if I waited for it to freeze over
before I fell in

I've got these eyes
light brown, they're more of an amber
especially in bright light
gifted with sight and minor impairment
or so I'm told
I myself don't care to look at them
I can get lost in them though
for all the wrong reasons
but have you ever tried to
actually see yourself?
I mean really see yourself,
not the image manifested
instead, what you truly are?
I think I have but then again
I have a needed aptitude for deceit

I've got this heart
this heart that that beats
fast when I'm excited,
fast when I'm scared,
faster still when in love
and it's a big lump of muscle
or so I'm told
I guess it must be
I won't argue with that
it's heavy inside, that's a fact
but have you ever tried to
wear it on your sleeve?
the phrase is an idiom
I'll explain what it means;
to be overly sensitive or easily hurt
and have no control over emotions
or show them too readily for people to see
despite my deceit, my heart it still bleeds
that's the only reason to be careful
when you shake my hand

I've got this secret
this secret that eats its way through me
secrets are bad and we shouldn't keep them
yet everyone has secrets and we need them
or so I'm told
and I don't even know what mine is yet
though I suspect that it's that I'm sad
sad when I shouldn't be
lonely when I needn't be
but have you ever tried
to tell a secret and get it off your chest?
feel it come up from inside, make its way through you
and as it's about to come out just suddenly stop
as a gassy lump in your throat so you choke
as you swallow it down?
I have and I can tell you
it's not the taste that gets you
it's the texture

some referrals a reward once in the while
for just continuing to fight
a nice word to take home to gather
in late at night alone
praise and a pat on the back ,
a hug kiss more
once and 'gain
a night of good conversation a
look like we are desirable humans
that sly come hither thing with passion for us
candles and rose petals and morning kisses
and  excitement
a little champagne and dancing
breath on our ear
swaying and feel of another being
feeling just like we do
connecting
or just someone
liking us
it
so
much
matters

It's a natural phenomenon
That all or most of us girls, whether
you have big ones or you're from the iddy biddy ***** committee -
Have confidence issues
About the size of them bras

We grow up looking at all the beauty and perfection in the magazines
Those shiny,  glossy pages of materialistic vanity

Thinking ...
I wish that was me !

Beauty, is in the eyes of the beholder
Yet, we shrivel up with fear when
It's time to be with another

Thinking they're wishing the size
of them bras was BIG
As a ripe yellow Cantaloupe! :)
You lose your confidence even if
It's not true

Our men can't help themselves
Cheating roaming eyes, as they scan those surgically implanted
Plastic fantasies
Rise and heave !

Forgetting what a real woman looks like
They fall for the ones with a huge
Chest on the outer crest

They're glorious! !
But underneath -
They have confidence issues too
That's why the knife was their
Best bet

Jrap/2016

An artful liar, his words beautifully cheat all,
speaks nonsense any one can believe
with  consummate flair, sees the essence without effort,
it fits well in metaphors and imageries galore,
he has wings to fly anywhere with ease, see things up close.
The  wind of imagination he blows makes waves,
he is taken to  ecstatic heights riding on  its crest,
yet he doesn't accept, when they call him a poet,
"Just at those moments I am inspired" he says"call me a poet,
not all the time I am one, being a poet is not a profession
but an attribute others bestow on one, out of appreciation"

I heard a man putting ladders up outside
Probably to clean the gutters
He suddenly appeared at my window
"Hello" he said
"I'm Father Christmas
I'm just practising"

Despite the heart which is froze
Hatred runs fluidly
Like the water in shattered glass
Like the blood in broken bones
Like the flames in our homes    
This hatred
It speaks to me
Like drugs to an addict

When it tells me to shoot
                                         I relapse and
                                       aim for the sky

I said..
In spite of my own humility
Hatred runs deeply
Like the roots beneath the dirt
Like the pain beyond the hurt
Like this poem before your eyes

I despise 
                Way too many lies
                And so little truth  

I said..
I hate beautiful  
It cripples me deeply  
For you are my pity
My pain and their pleasure

When I am high
                           I'll collapse and fall
                        Far from this place
                        Of rotten bliss

I said..
Look at me        
Blood misrepresents me    
For I am cut differently
This pain isn't felt
Like the emptiness
Residing in your cup
It is felt
Like a toxic
Living inside the gut
Like these words
Traveling directly
Towards the stomach

I mean..
             Although this addiction kills me
           Hatred is also the remedy
          It is all I need to truly appreciate
          The little love I have left.

When I was a young man
A heedless headlong consumer of life, was I
Above and beyond the norm or necessity
I wore paths deep and wide
To the pleasure centres of my brain
And I rode my soul like an easy *****
Oh happy daze of hedonism
How sweet life tasted then

If there was drink to drink
We drank it
If there were songs to sing
We sang them
If there were fights to fight
We fought them
We had fast feet and faster wits
If there was hell to raise
We raised it
Excess and adventure in equal parts
How fast, how high we flew back then

And then the magic playground
Became a bleak and dangerous place
Peopled by predators and prey
In an ever changing food chain
And I was only one step away
From the totally oblivious
One brain cell ahead of
The permanent reality challenged
Then friends began casually dying
Barely noticed in the rush to join them
Now the race is on
And I have grown old and slow

                                              By Phil Roberts

hard is trying to make  pillows
of river rocks and hard concrete
abutments fo' covers
and drinking the ***** river down stream
of the corn crops and cotton
quenching thirst
in the available,
like ten zillion
camels trooped through
your mouth,

and who knows anymore
the runoff
might soften the eggs
again
and I may be
extinct
unlike the eagle who
got lucky.

I refuse to give negativity
and hate any more of my time
Once given the power
it can take over your life and your mind
I start my day with thanks
and end my day with gratitude
My days are a struggle no more
because I changed my attitude
The world is scary right now
that is one thing we can all admit
So I focus on me and my little bit
and simply change the way I see it