Love is the only
definitive ultimate
without borders
or constraints.

Your eyes are piercing,
Deep as the raging sea.
And yet they dance ceaselessly
With the laughter of a child.
Your arms, tired and struggling to remain steady,
Still somehow find time
To fly across the monkey bars of your youth.
Your words, often in constant motion,
Often filled with diverting, musical nothings, can be
Replaced with a love made clear, yearning to understand.
So what I ask of you,
Dear Stranger,
Is that you'll promise yourself,
The kind, loving theorist and the wonderfully outlandish child
Both,
That you'll leave neither behind,
Cherishing the two forever
As you make your way through the maze
That is this life.

one of these days you'll see me
smiling at the sun,
running freely in a meadow, picking flowers
and placing them on my hair.
one of these days you'll find me
writing my story in the sky,
singing the song of my
freedom and redemption.
one of these days i'll be
dressed in bravery and gold,
with fireworks in my eyes
and truth written on my skin,
with the taste of joy on my tongue
and bliss in my footsteps
because i will be free and
brave and carefree and hopeful
one of these days.

I am not afraid of the storm.
Or of the wildness of the winds.

I am not afraid of the darkness.
Even my nightmares
Have little power to frighten
Any more.

I am not afraid to die.
There is very little mystery left.

what is left?
You may be wondering

that may be a conversation
For another day

Dripping with gory sarcasm
The sharpest tongue cuts a dash
The house speciality is cruelty
Naturally
And so, gathered revellers
To the evening's main course
An innocent
A babe amongst blades
Who'll carve?

With glinting teeth and cutlery
Feasting on the lamb begins
An ideal from each bone that's chewed
Is spat upon the floor
And they're snatching and snarling for more
More succulent and pure
Fresh blood for the body politic
Come to the party
Who'll pour?

                                By Phil Roberts

You can't find relief...
In reasons non existent;
In predicaments ill-explained.

There's no relief.
In trying to peer over towering walls.
With feet on tiptoes,
and necks sorely craned.

Relief isn't found...
In wishing upon droplets
that explode as they meet the ground.
Everytime it thundered,
and then rained.

Relief is in the trove
when the heart lets go.
To acknowledge the error,
to move on...
And commit fully to the lesson gained.