The young monks all stood around
In complete awe of the visiting priest,
Whose wisdom struck them as quite profound
And remarkable to say the least.
 
One monk with a curious endeavor
Wanted to stump the old sage,
Thinking his question extremely clever
For even a master of his age.
 
The monk said, “Master, can you please,
Since the time of your departure draws nigh,
Answer with your expertise:
What happens after we die?”
 
The young monks all felt dejected
When the priest said, “I do not know.”
Not hearing the answer they’d expected,
They let their bewilderment show.
 
“B...but...how can you say that?” they stammered.
“Don’t you—a wise teacher—know all?
We demand an answer!” they hammered.
The calm atmosphere turned to a squall.
 
The priest’s love had never decreased
For his students; he’d never misled one:
“Yes, for years I’ve been a priest—”
Then he added, “But never a dead one.”

- by Bob B

To taste the bittersweet nectar of thy lunar lips.
Lie me hope, sing to me the song of the helix.
Proffer me the chance to breach thy bastion,
encompass thee in my love and compassion.
Sanction me to be that one whispering love stories
in thine ear while bathing in the Aurora Borealis
dazzling and clear.
You and I, a rickety tent and a love nothing less of
heaven sent.
In mine heart thou shalt forever remain.
My panzer maid grant me...the fall of rain.

It's definitely still in here
Though I've not seen it for a while
It'll be in a corner somewhere
Where the light doesn't reach
But I never did get rid of it
Though I've done nothing
As a result of it lately
The thing is still integral
To my living reality
The wildness within me
Has never left
It's in a corner somewhere

                                           By Phil Roberts

-on a local beer at a local pub, or
another good reason to speak out as a poet

An angel in an apron offered me a drink.
"Here comes Eternal Youth," she said,
"it is meant to make you think."

     While I drank, the world billowed like a sail.
     Time went crazy, bladders appeared,
     the world's front peeled off like a veil.

Heroes and gods alike were humbled.
Their faces aged, their bones crumbled,
the wind swept away what remained of them.

     With them they took the light.
     I stumbled in pitch black darkness
     and man, from the deep I cried.

And then, suddenly, I knew:
my voice, that's me, I'm here!
I'm not too young to interfere!

     I shouted and pushed up the curtain,
     reflected light cut through the dark:
     the waving sea, time to embark!

My angel again was in her counsellor's role.
"Now sail in song forever," she spoke,
"raise your voice, save your soul!"

     I peered into the golden waves...
     and found it was this magic potion,
     that turned and turned in its majestic motion.

There is truth in wine but there's soul in beer;
and when it sends you spinning, sing, sing!
sing, so all the world can hear!

I had to think twice about thinking twice which was twice the work for an old work horse and
if nature truly runs its course then of course it must be true that pondering on the imponderables is a noble thing to do.

You and I know
that to go around in circles is a total waste of time
but we do it all the time which wastes more time and not being one for waste or time I found it easier to go in a straight line,
not a flat line because that's something different.

Any dimension you like is the dimension that does it for me.

Space
lots of it even in the little bit of what I see and what is a galaxy anyway?
just another chocolate like the milky way or Mars bar which is not too far off the mark,
in an inn in the dark and so am I, where
a pint of beer and a pie is my cup of tea
(sounds a bit Alice to me)
confused?
I always was.

If you had to think twice every time that you thought
I'd think twice about thinking at all

Hanging close to the edge of nowhere
Suspended by a thread like human hair
Is our grasp on sanity
And there are times when
A breeze of disruption
Disturbs and distresses
This delicate suspension
And our grasp on sanity

It would be wise for us to always be aware
Of that thread as thin as a human hair
Because a breeze of disruption
Could became the blast of a storm
Our reason will spin and fly
Before snapping the thread altogether
And our grasp on sanity

                                         By Phil Roberts

I had that epiphany moment where I realized I was
more than the ordinary
tightly dressed caped zero
capable of saving living things
like  kittens
stray dogs and I don't throw frogs against walls anymore
nor do I willingly hurt my nemesis
I try to tame them
with a song a dance trance them
you might call me
the reality show superhero
if I wanted to I could win
American Idol
but that would take precious time
away from my fighting crime
I sing to my dog and she sings  back
like she does when she hears sirens
and I could win a dance contest
I  dance with my kittens
or try to
they are still young enough to be skittish
I am truly a superhero to them
when I open a bag of chips or fry
pork chops
in olive oil and  spice them with garlic salt
which they think is catnip
and I write in a cape
and go sailing over clouds over
mountaintops
maintaining
superhero
type stuff
nightly
so
I know I am
a superhero
to them
to me
in
a
way
and Gotham
and Clayhatchee
and home for them
safe.

.

What the hell is wrong with me,
where does this circus come from
Three rings that seem to open new tents in my mind
Dark tents filled with wild and dangerous thoughts,
pacing in a cage, waiting to be released
Yeah, you just try and make me
jump through one of those fiery hoops,
see where your head ends up and where
that whip is shoved

Sawdust everywhere as I parade around
Fluffing my feathers, thinking I know,
Proud ain’t even close to how I feel
as I swing from the trapeze,
sequins glistening,
looking for the meaning, the why
I keep asking why…why as I once again
light the fuse with cotton candy fingers,
shot from a cannon, screaming,
there is no net, not for me, not for these thoughts

Open this door and let me out,
I’m stuffed in this little car
with a bunch of clowns, painted on smiles
big floppy shoes and ****, they are all me
(Send in the clowns, I hate that song)
and I hate these thoughts
Juggled about, like so many *****
flying through the air, never touching the ground
and there they are, ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls,
children of all ages, staring, laughing, pointing,
shoveling popcorn in their faces
then running in fear as these thoughts
escape confinement once again

Don’t you get it, can’t you see,
this is real, this is me
I love, I love deeply, I can’t guess your weight
but I can feel you rummaging for tickets
in my heart and all I have is for you
Free admission, stop by the petting zoo,
Share a branch with a giraffe, share
Share, wow, maybe that’s it,
maybe that’s why I smile
when the tents come down
heading for another place

another town

another time

send out the clowns