Inside the darkest garden
in this castle of
roots and knots
                  with ancient shadows
                      that come out to dance
                         in consistent moonlit thoughts
where my body starts
                     to swirl and sway
                     my spirit stirring free
inside the bones of
                underground caverns
where I have found
the once –buried remnants
           of me
Here.      
Antiquated magic
            is rediscovered              
next to dark-aged
weapons of layered rust
in the ghosts of the tears
of the collapsing fears
           that quaked the bridges of trust
where the unlikely
traces of self-love
never did really die
and despair in its
quiet torrents
prepares to release and fly
        
Here.          
I embrace the night
               in its fullness,
drink it up
          like temple wine
accepting all the dark within me
letting its light fill me
in vibrations,
              divine
In most scintillating strength,
my inner swords enhanced
in sharpness,
                in potent length
before my armies
                       advance

Here,              
in wild mossy corners
the blackest of berries grow
round and perfect, on
the edge
                     of bursting
revealed only to those who know
that clandestine language
of echoes of loneliness
that wander breathlessly
                           and roam
clutching their essence
                           to hold it safe
over the soil and loam
Now minerals sparkle in the
                       rich, dark earth
atoms of crystal
and stone

Here.
In this darkest
oasis of seeming nothingness
glows a
      single tree
bearing the juiciest
        of fruits
    now dripping
  just for me
and as my hunger
pours up
from the roots
propelling me in sacred trance
I find myself
gazing up in wonder
letting down
          my warrior stance

I slowly take off my armor
freeing up the fullness
of *******, of thighs, of hips
to allow that emotional
         fruit liquid
to nourish me from
core to fingertips
and to catch that ripeness
     about to spill
goddess voices calling
"Yes, woman. Now"
I, with reverence
     with honor
take on that sacred vow
tip back my head
let the quartz-snapped
air into my lungs
let that liquid
slake my ache
and,
in moaning silence
grace my
     tongue

I spied Vicki through a crack in the Universe
and I tried to speak through the silence
but Vicki put a finger to my lips
and spoke the one word of reassurance
' love', she said, will take us both into eternal remembrance,
and that small crack in the Universe,
is our eternal moment.

Here I go again
Dubious footsteps
Questionable motives
Perusing the dark and restless past
Changing as perceptions change
And perceptions change with
The tolerance of added years and distance
Creating the uncertainty of honesty
Turn black and white
Into grey elusive shadows
And there
Amidst the darkness of my past
And all my pointless journeys
For the first time ever
I see a small white light
Constant and unblinking
And I am aware deep inside
That this is the long awaited
Birth of peace

                        By Phil Roberts

Everywhere I go
Everybody wants to know
"Where's the lady"
They all ask
I answer, hiding behind a mask
Of smiles and laughs,
And say to them:
"She's gone, she won't be back again;
I don't care"
And shrug my shoulders.
But now my life is so much colder
I walk alone, the crowded streets
And tell my tale to friends I meet
Then I turn, walk on with the truth
With tear-filled eyes
I think of you

On my selling on a day in the blazing May
I was looking for a small place for a light bite
when I noticed through my heat dazed eyes
the signboard "Snack Bite".

Inside was the peaceful coolness of a suburb bylane
and I would have pretty soon dozed off
but for the strong smoke of spice, garlic and onion
that shut out every senses except hunger.

No menu card, sir, the waiter cut the silence,
on our menu at this hour is only fish fingers,
all else sold out.

No problem I said, I have been here for a light bite.
How many pieces come with a plate?

Ten, sir, superbly fried.

By ten minutes the steaming thing was before me
ten red crispy slices of fish fingers
and I immediately got into business
remembering what my ma used to say,
To a hungry mouth every food tastes fine
and so neat and fine the pieces looked
so artfully arranged on the plate like human fingers
I reflected on the pause having finished the fifth.

Human fingers? I froze in terror,
why didn't I notice
leftovers of crunched bones and nails
on my plate?

The only other man at the table, I heard
was ordering for another plate.

I don't want in poetry
Rather,
I have a need for words
To understand how I feel
To help you understand
My inner workings
I reflect on myself
Learn and better myself
Heart wrenching stories
From my past
Can't creep up on me
Or take me by surprise
When I review them daily
Weekly,
Monthly,
Yearly,
To better ourselves
We write
To share our angst
We write
To show that we love
We write
To feel someone else
Intimately
To touch the very soul
Of someone we have never met
To cry on their shoulders
To rejoice in happiness
Together

We read