I shall internalize to the point where i rise
Like a grey misty ash through sullen harbour skies
To descend on these eyes who never danced with ambition
Nor once sought to covet nor hold executive position
Sweeping through parochial house to office building
I consume this room as a deathly prison warden
Where time passes and falls in a desperate eerie sigh
Unable to cry in an endless stare of just getting by

I shall crawl through the past of these city streets
Retracing my footsteps as the years they recoil
The red terraced housing of old Hungry Hill
A young boy in his room sitting there still
Head full of dreams waiting for his moment to shine
Such foolish naivety of a dreamer in his prime
He would never tie his shoelaces anything but straight
Just getting by, the sole manifestation of a solemn fate

I shall leave as a mist to cover these countryside hills
As a wandering soul, a veil rolling down as early dew
Comes upon a house where children asleep in their beds
Let it be them that carry the dreams of lives better led
So that I may finally relent and lay myself down to rest
Not for deaths cold embrace but a warmer peace instead
In a world of all or nothing we have this life of you and I
Where it shall be enough to get by, by just getting by

We saw a light
I swear it
Something bright and crisp
And mother-clean
Or so it seemed to us
All those years ago
But we were so young then
Such noble fools
We believed
Oh, how we believed

Affection swells
And memory seduces
It is easy to love nostalgia
The children we were
Looking so new
Open-mouthed and wonderful
Delighted  and startled
Pointing yearning fingers
At the future
And there it was
And here it is
It's only a light
Really
I swear it
It's just a light

                             By Phil Roberts

My eyes get adjusted to dimness
the twilight makes me grimace too much bright
success , ha
it makes me blind

Like a *** I stumble around grinning
most often not seen a drop of water
in ten weeks, smelling myself
goes after one

songs are my attribute
my condolences  
a seance to that ringing
in this head

money comes and goes
loves become entangled
like wild roses
left untentended

thorns hook make blood
rise and people
to me are
so much like

a grappling thistle crown
of thorns under
the trees I bed down under
sleep awoke

Don't think you understand,
no one does, Not me,
not the trees the underbrush
or skies

Has the sky fallen yet.  has the seas dry up.

Has the birds quit singing their songs

Has the roses quit growing on the earth

Has the lions quit their roaring here.

Has anything in nature quit doing what God made  

Then my friend how can God be dead.

Are you an imaginary person to me here.

Am I real, as long as God lives then I am real  

For he is truly in control  today and tomorrow

reading someone , is intimate
her words are her heart
I try to take that in account.

Misunderstood, that's what I say. I'm a muse
of beauty, of silk woven from self.  My patterns
entice the morning dew to linger upon my
creations of simplistic beauty, tears fall.

I do not invite your destruction of what was
versed from my being. But your jealousy entraps
you to destroy what you have not naturally woven.
Tattered strings of my nights work fall and I
tirelessly recreate what was portrait of my worth.

Weaving my creations, I will not falter from
my course. Heed my whispers for without
me flies would converge upon your dwellings.
But I take pride in my work of collecting undesirables.
I sit silently patiently, this is my life's work.

Our God is not dead, but is Rejoicing in our Victories.
Our God lives because he is the Christ the Living God
He is no fantasy, but the reality the Saving Savior God.
All of our Pain, Suffering, and Sorrow that we go through.
Shall be a work within us to reveal Christ within us.
For Christ wants to use us to bless those whom knows him not.
He wants to heal all whom comes unto him , everyone.
For by Healing, he is being reveal through everyone who is healed.
Thus then the world shall have no excuse because he did reveal himself.