We were not informed
Of the mystery
Of creation
So don't ask
A believer
In appearance
About this reality

I hate my skinny frame
my bony hips and spaghetti appendages
I envy the built lads with guns for arms
those guys that can wow a girl without any charm
I heard that girls like being carried to bed
they'd more likely be able to carry me instead
and maybe that's the reason I never get any head
but jokes aside, this is a problem
men, women, boys and girls
we're all fixated on an image the media has us fed
some of us feel worthless because of our bodies
forgetting our positive oddities
forgetting the perks we have like a beautiful smile
or eyes that given the attention
hold something you haven't seen in a while
a lot of us haven't felt love from ourselves in years
it could bring me to tears
all because when we look ourselves in the mirror
we see imperfection
but let me ask you this; what is perfection?

Is it a man so jacked up on steroids he can't get an *******?
is it a girl so skinny they call her the queen of size zero?
when zero is the number of healthy teeth left in her mouth
from forcing herself to be sick after every meal?
so what is the deal
with this perfection ****?
I've had enough of it, having to listen to the girl I love
saying "oh I'm so fat" well **** me, I've had enough of that
call me unsympathetic call me a ****
I'm done hating myself, I'm learning to bounce back
you are who you are, a poet once told me to be proud of that
and that I am finally, once and for all
I might be skinny and look weak but I'll stand tall
I'm a clever guy, or so I'm told
I've got charm so I'll learn to use it
keep writing the poetry, to me it's sweet music
keep on telling myself
"I can do this, I can do this, I can do this"



**and so can you

Don't open your eyes
Today.
Don't stir from thoughtless
Slumber.
Each word you say is wrong.
Each choice that's made  — a blunder.
Don't try to give your all today
For it won't be enough.
Don't fight against this devil dog
It's bark is not a bluff.
Just go and hang your weary head
Perhaps go back to bed.
You might not win each battle,
So win the war instead.

I crawl the floor

Collecting broken glass

To protect feet of those who do not know

Do not care

Whilst rejecting offers of company

As music moves the floor.

Later

When all is quiet

I enter the night

To walk along roads alone.

A bogeyman of myth

Stalks these streets

It's ok

For I am not the prey he seeks

I am not the prey he seeks.

I can never seem to understand,
The honour of defending one's homeland,
By pumping rivers of blood,
Hiding mass graves in the mud,
How much more can humankind withstand?

I want all to feel the  magnificence
try to listen
hush a minute

It was strange imagination that led you to me
Too many miles and even more borders
I didn't dream
But I believe
My fingers only reaching through such space
My violent star in the night
Fiery, burning with passions
I couldn't see
What I felt
My love
This combustion
Internal
This raging source of light
Shine over me
My violent star in the night
I'm only skin to feel your heat

Hey, old friend
Remember the days?
The times we got so drunk we could barely crawl
What a laugh!
Other nights we'd be so wired
We chewed our lips to shreds
And do you remember that opiated Nepalese
While the rest were throwing up or falling down
We kept right on smoking
'Til we could barely find our feet
Haha!
And then tripping out at Fool's Nook
Thinking the water in the stream was diamonds
The mushrooms weren't so magic if you got a bad one
But wasn't it fun!
Going to dodgy Manchester pubs for the gear
Haha, remember that night I nearly got myself shot?
I've never talked so fast in all my life
And now that we're middle-aged
Where are we now, old friend?
You're dead and I'm falling to bits
Such fun

                            By Phil Roberts

The youth
carry the burden of school.
Will I pass or will I fail?

Fathers
carry the burden of work,
money, and sleep deprivation.

Mothers
carry the burden of the juggling act
of the super woman.

Old folks
carry the burden of a body
that no longer works for them.

And all---and all---
carry the burden of never
being good enough .

Burdens.
Backpacks.
"Come to Me," calls the
Bearer of all burdens.
"I will give you rest.
Give your heavy burden to Me,
and exchange it for the lighter load,
which I give to thee."

She lets the backpack fall from her shoulders.
And walks on.
Carrying a lighter one.
Her striving is done.
A journey toward rest
has begun.