Drain this rain from my head,
The flood is rising and my eyes are ******.
Thoughts trapped away in wonderland,
Abandoned by the trace of wonderment.
This tissued space is closing in,
I can feel it tear and hemorrhage.
Rivers of red flowing through wrinkles,
Ivory bones crumple and crinkle.
I'll sit alone, on a dusty throne
Inside of my clogged up skull.

-SLuR

My way and conduct
Is modesty
Even though the garden
Become a paradise

Monday morning
is singing the indigo blues

the sky is wearing
a grey duffel coat

still I gotta pay my dues
gotta get happy
gotta get happy
an pay my dues

Step into the winters day
Air so crisp and cold
Snows on the way

Somewhere they will be
Freezing today
Somewhere they will be
rubbing chilled hands together
draming of warm summer days

Inside boxes filled with red faces
they will be dreaming of faraway places
where the sand is warm underfoot
and  in the chambray sky there are no traces
of water accumulation, just an argent sun
and on the breeze exotic spices.

These are the dreams of the red faced
and blue handed masses that ride the buses
in this crisp winter morn
.....looking for a scrap of chambray,
in the cold flannel grey of this Monday

The comedian starts off with
"Ladies and gentlemen,
It's wonderful to be here in downtown Telford..."
Enid in the audience says, " Ew, I don't like his
shirt. What colour would you call that...puce?"
Edna says, " Looks more like puke to me."
Giggle giggle giggle

The comedian carries on unaware
"Yes, downtown Telford.
The Hollywood stars all holiday here y'know.
Oh yes, the place is awash with champagne and *******."
He smiles ruefully. "Asif. I'm lucky to get brown ale...
and all that gets up my nose is the wife!"
Enid says, "I don't get that."

The comic continues,
"My wife is very demanding y'know....
She says to me recently that she wants more ***!
The ****** woman's never satisfied....."

Edna says, "That reminds me....
how did you go on with him from packing?"
"Well...." says Enid.........

And the comic continues
"More *** at her age.......!
So, I thinks to meself, I'll play along, so
I says....What's the matter with you!
Ain't once a year enough for you?
Quick as a flash she says, "No it ain't.
I'm sick of waiting for Santa!"

Enid says ".....I just saw this purple thing.
I had no idea what it was 'till I touched it!"
Much laughter ensues
And comedy continues.

                                By Phil Roberts

Eyes left wide, for
Now I've seen
The vanguard of my fevered dreams and

Jungle cats pace in my brain.
Paws alight, their
Claws aflame

And sinews
Incandescent white--
Seamless, green, their glowing eyes

Constellate where shadows heap.
Enough! My skull,
The marrow creaks...

What hells we weave
Through. Bitter dreams,
Awake, asleep or caught between.

And all that we've done has been for nothing

what if it's an empty place
how will we face the truth that religion was
just a way of keeping us in check?

Just a sec

a blank screen could mean that we paint our own hereafter

What would you paint?

The laughter of children enjoying the game?
The peace of a walk down a long country lane?
the moon
her room
an aroma of a home a
long ways away?

I'd paintbrush each day in colours that run onto a noonday sun
and sail into the sanctuary of a lip balm sea.

If we are
we will be
unlimited.

There's no guarantee
we
all have to wait
but
I'll keep my fingers
crossed
and
I guess that I'll see
eventually.

you look at the stars
so unaware of how you
manifest their light

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