You can't even imagine
Right now what I'm going through
You can't even see
Half the things
I'm hiding from you
I force myself to smile
I tell myself I'm fine
I force myself to say
"Hello. I'm great. How are you dear, how is life?"
I can see through your eyes your having a rough time
I push my own feelings aside
And encourage you to spill yours out.
I can feel your heartache
I can help you to heal
I love doing that
Hey. :)
But that's because I know what's it like not having anyone
Who could understand
Or would even want to try
I force myself to smile
I tell myself I'm fine
Better days are coming
Why not help this hurting heart first, see the light
So I sit there, hurting along with you
Understanding everything you say
And wondering there should be something I could do
For you,
For you.
Not realizing that I have done enough,
Just sit'en here hurting with you
Listening to what you got to say
Meant the world to you.
Now you feel better
The clouds have gone
You see the light.
And some how, a little, I, do, too.
I force myself to smile
I tell myself I'm fine
Better days are coming.
I know I'll be alright.
Why not help this hurting heart see the light.
"Hello. I'm great. How are you dear, how is life?"
4/18/15

Arriving at the event,
His words replay in my head:
“Don’t be shy, be polite,
And just act like a normal person.”

Excuse me, what did you just say?
Act like a normal person?
Who the hell are you to talk to me like that?

How does one act normal?
There’s no such thing as normal.

I think I know what you mean,
But you didn’t use the right words.
You say “act normal” but you really mean
“Blend in, be white noise, don’t stand out.”

How dare you tell me to ‘act normal’.
I want to be many things in life, but normal isn’t one of them.
I want to be brilliant, beautiful, loved, successful,
Talented, joyful, charitable, selfless.

I want to be so many things in this big world,
But normal is not one of them.
I refuse to accept to blend into the crowd.

I’m not normal.
I’m just me.
And I wouldn’t want it any other way.

on poetry*

A poem is only a mouthful of air
until it is read.
Imagine it. Craft it carefully
from your heart's flesh.
Seal it in a bottle
of clear, pure words.
Set it adrift on
the ocean of time,
life's restless surge,
until a few congruous spirits
pluck it from the sea-wrack
and recognize a message
that illuminates their souls.
Readers find writers;
never the opposite.

A pulse is
something you can put your finger on,
but an impulse is something you go on,
an idea that takes you from here,

I was there once on the off chance
that here was a chance
but in the end there was
no chance,

I take no risks,
my finger's always
on the trigger,
safety off.

We have to be and play safe
this is no place for kitty cats
or scaredy cats
that's as plain as day.

Some breathe fear and
some breathe fire
I do neither,
ice folds itself in and
my skin is **** frost

nor am I lost or found
and
the only sound
is you telling me
another
crossword clue

the answer is in five letters

counting down from now
finger
trigger
some things are bigger
than
the moment.

The king wears Doc Martins
For booting tardy servants
And the servants grovel meekly
Whilst planning dire retribution
Come the day, you old *******
Come the glorious day

The queen is in the bike shed
Letting down random tyres
Throwing stones through windows
To while away the hours
Oh! the trial of royal boredom
With a castle and pointed towers

The princess lives in the highest tower
And spits on passers by below
Sometimes she uses a catapult
To fire cats at nearby nobles
And the nobles mutter curses
Whilst bowing so very low

But now that it's Christmas time
And the royals anticipate gifts
But the royal tree hides nothing, you see
Because these things are never missed
And the sleigh did not stay
And Santa did not call

                                       By Phil Roberts

of some hard rock
out of snow powder
the alarm ringing in the morn
when I have had two hours shut ******* eye
I love hell out of some butterbean ****
a handful of ***
the last drop of malt liquor
the taste of that last kiss
the sound of an unmuffled
69 Mustang
red of course
drive in movie screens
old quality movie stars:
Audrey Hepburn-
Holly Golightly-
you'll always remain in my
brain

I feel that there are times
when I could reach out my hand
and touch my own death.
This causes me no regret or fear
for I have lived in my own way-
Godless and lawless but
with a belief in knowing
what's right and wrong.
So, as my ghostdom awaits me
I shall not tremble in my shoes
I'll greet him with a wink
and my best angelic smile

                                      By Phil Roberts

form forms a bubble around the most profound things
tension keeps most out and that keeps the surfactant surface round
like a dogwood blooming or a twig dripping
dewdrops in the morning
or an insane writer performing acrobatic bounces
on the surface of the paper trampoline
trying to figure out
Rorscach ink blots forming images
on his memory
bouncing round in similes
metaphors trying his patience to the limits
finding balance on the paper thin
edges
the finite experiences
his imagination pushing him
to every limit

Blue orbs of blue
eyes of oceans
eyes of skies
eyes of winter
eyes of ice

Green orbs of green
eyes of grass
eyes of lime
eyes of moss
eyes of thyme

Brown orbs of brown
eyes of chocolate
eyes of rust
eyes of tree-roots
eyes of dust

Angels follow me around all day
how they must sigh relief
when I finally lay down to *sleep