only small minds believe
putting others down
makes themselves bigger

On wheels
On the road
Off our heads
City bound
Let's go bro
Let the adrenalin flow
In search of narcotics
On Devilment Row
Where the good don't go

Here dealers compete
In a threatening way
And if you're not bold
You better not stay
Young joeys surround you
On the carpark
But you ignore them
And head inside
The deals are better in there
Amidst the heavy dealers

Thirty or forty
To pick and choose from
What ya sellin'?
What ya deals like?
Everyone's suspicious
And everyone's armed
There are people murdered
In this part of town
And nobody blinks an eye
And you know that when
You're that close to death
You feel so very much alive

                                     By Phil Roberts

At all times
We are loved
At all times
We are looking
Inside trying to
find the truth
At all times
We doubt
We wonder
Why we are here
At all times
We question
Ourselves
We wonder
Why things
Are the way
They are
At all times
We must
Remember
We are whole
We are loved
To make it
Through the day
You must
Remember
At all times
My friend so
You can make
It through the day
Never forget the
Lessons from your past
At all times
Never let go
Of who you are inside.

We’d been together so long, it seemed
That nothing could tear us apart,
We lived our lives in a world of dreams
And Barbara lived in my heart,
But frost had covered the window pane
And then it began to snow,
As Barbara turned, with a look of pain
And said, ‘It’s best that you go.’

I didn’t know what she meant at first
As I looked up from my book,
“Go where?’ I questioned, but thought again
As she quelled my heart with a look.
‘I said I want you to leave,’ she cried,
And her face was set in stone,
‘We’ve come to the end of the path,’ she sighed,
‘I want to be left alone.’

Then suddenly all confusion reined
I didn’t know what to say,
Whatever had brought this mood on her,
I wished it would go away.
But she was firm, and she packed my things
And ushered me out the door,
I stood there shivering in the cold
To be back on my own once more.

I found a flat and I camped the night
There was barely a stick or chair,
I’d have to buy all the furniture
To make it a home in there.
But I sat and cried in the empty room
As the question came back, ‘Why?’
I’d loved her so and my heart was torn,
I thought I wanted to die.

I went to her with my questions, but
She slammed the door in my face,
Whatever love she had had for me
Had vanished, without a trace.
It hurt so much that she cut me off
With never so much as a sigh,
I called that all that I wanted was
To tell me the reason, why?

The roses had bloomed so late that year
Were still in the garden bed,
We’d always tended the bush with joy,
We both loved the colour red,
So I snipped one off as I left one day,
And planted it under her door,
To let her know that I loved her still
I didn’t know how to say more.

Her brother called in a week or so,
Said she was in hospital,
She’d gone in just for a minor cure
And thought that he’d better tell.
So I caught the bus and I went on down
With a quaking fear in my heart,
She hadn’t said there was something wrong
Before she tore us apart.

The doctor came in his long white coat,
His brow and his face was grim,
I said, ‘Don’t tell me the news is bad,’
He said, ‘I’m out on a limb.
Your wife just passed from the surgery,
But she pulled, from under her clothes,
And asked if I’d pass this on to you,’
In his hand was a red, red rose.

David Lewis Paget

We're all in a time machine
Sitting on a beach
We try and try to hold onto
The sand within our reach
We hold it as a talisman
Though it does not teach
It has no permanence at all
Through our fingers it'll leach

We may not even try to grasp
And this, my friends, is worse
We notice not its passing
While we peruse our purse
We see it not, we are not taught
So it becomes a curse

But placed within an hour glass
The moments slowly rain
We gaze at each crystal
We gaze at every grain
We learn these minutiae
As our moments wane
For they can be so fleeting
Let them not go down the drain!

Life's a sandy shore, my friends.
Its wind will whisper. Talk.
We can breeze along it
We can take long walks
We can collect the shells of hope
Or end up on the rocks.

When we leave our footprints
For others on the way
Whatever will they make of them?
Will they last a day?
Will they shine as gemstones
With many colors gay?
Or will the ocean take them
Out into its grey...

So dance along the sand
But watch the hourglass
You're ensured your prints endure
Though the minutes pass
Make a strong impression

As each step could be your LAST.


SoulSurvivor
1/15/2017

Though the sun had begun bleeding in the West
With an explorer’s gait, I walked jumping over gutters
My track, flanked with knee high grass and nettles
Also wild bushes of all kinds that grew in clusters

I saw dragon flies whirring around in circles
Their wings catching glints of the evening light
As they buzzed from one blade of grass to the other
Giving a solitary soul benign company and sure delight

Strange enough, my track ended in an open space
Enclosed by cracked walls, now a forlorn territory
There are raised mounds, overgrown with weeds
I can easily make out, it is an ancient cemetery

Hush… hush is the place, here no bird sings
There is a mournful silence that deepens
Through the **** grown path, no traveler walks
The place, some morbid warning portends

Vacancy alone greets my pensive eyes
Here the wind sighs in silent pain
There is a muffled horror all around the place
Even the leaves chant a sad refrain

In these ancient graves sleep the silent dead
Their toil and trouble ended with life
They must have been perhaps heroes of the land
No more are they part of world’s victory or strife

Nor its sad commemorations or triumphant jubilees
Though released from the shackles of oppression
Each dear presence has now become an absence
Here they lie anonymous, without a single possession

Some graves are marked by crosses and head stones
But most of them are nameless, worn out by time
We do not know how or when came their end
Did they die in old age or die in their prime

Or perish in a battle or struck by some pestilence
However their names are blotted out from life’s tome
They have become inseparably one with the elements
And they lie here motionless exuding a strange calm

Generations pass and their progeny comes
Unmindful of who lived before them
Neither thankful of the legacy left behind
Nor thinking, all the comforts, from their toil stem

I stand with a heavy heart by these moss grown wrecks
Thinking I too shall lie here once, devoid of all opulence
Leaving all my hard earned possessions behind
Without a name, thoroughly forgotten by the populace

Oh Death! You are the mighty leveler of lives
With your indiscriminate hands when you strike
All differences are ironed out, all distinctions erased
Devoid of any rank, here sleep the king and the slave alike

A bird will never learn to fly,
If it refuses to leave the nest.
The bird that just won't touch the sky,
Can never soar above the rest.

And although the nest will keep it warm,
While safe under mother's wing.
The bird will deal with too much harm
If the bird can't truly sing.

So be the bird that takes the chance,
And flies towards the setting sun.
Because a bird that's caught in passing glance
Is better than a cage built for one.

We are all just little dreamers,
With ambition and goals in our head.
Through rallying cries and vocal screamers,
We keep marching until we are dead.
Our hopes lay over the horizon,
Our fears dwell in the valleys below.
The gold in the sunset we keep our eyes on,
Is better than what we already know.

Our cast is made up of broken smiles,
And eyes that have seen real hell.
And although we've suffered different trials,
We unite under the same rallying bell.
Learning from our ancestors before us,
We carry their badge in our hearts.
In their rallying cries we form our chorus,
In this symphony we all play our parts.

And they won't silence us until we are done,
Until all our demands have been met.
If our bodies go down by the blast of the gun,
More of us will arrive you can bet.
It takes more than a bullet to **** an ideal,
And we will stand by it to the end.
Consider this cry our grand reveal,
Of the fallen hearts on the mend.