Five years to the day your heart attack began.
Thinking of you, my own chest hurt;
I imagined pain in my shoulders,
Felt the weariness of years...
Even shed some tears.

April Fools Day, 2012, long on the shelf,
Returns fresh, cuts like a blunt knife,
Tears my innards; causes me to gasp...
The phone call of your imminent demise
Returns to mind,
Drives the blade to the hasp.

Heavy days, these April Fools'
Not the tom-fool days they used to be.
These are days to shake my core,
To stomp and worry my heart sore,
And ask if I'll live through many more.

Billions and billions
Of possibilities
In a restless, uncertain world.
Your eyes meet mine
And I couldn't think
Of another pair
That could make me
As certain.


-- Eleanor

a man cannot live on bread alone
nor upon his enemies bones
the marrow of which seldom makes
a feast in which he can partake
the flesh and blood
of his fellow kin
are formed from mud
and infused with sin
planted in the soil his feet
to which Apollo waters
and the master beats
on to the slaughter
hand in hand
and eye for eye
until we can't stand
until we all die
until we all die

Quixotically adorned
In a creaking suit of armour
Stumbling from set back to let down
I am learning to smile enigmatically
As though my thoughts are far away
Which is so often the truth
And my memories are bitter sweet
Because that's what they are

And so.....

Behind this slight disguise
I bumble and fumble through life
Assuming a face of serenity
A face which is not really mine
But one I wear for public view
My creaking suit of armour
Protects my vulnerability
And hides my secret heart

                                    By Phil Roberts

For those nights when you just want to cry
But the tears refuse to fall
For those days when you just want to leave your bed
But your legs fail to move.

When your mind follows an endless cycle
Of frustration and anxiety
Resulting in a downward spiral of depression
Into an abyss of darkness and self hatred

The only thought being your desire for the emotions to just stop;
The wanting to exist without the feelings;

The feelings of failure;
Constant self condemnation;
Endless frustration;
Unbounded worthlessness;
Inexhaustible mental agony.

When there's a war in your mind
As you battle against yourself
Day after day
Week after week
Constant, never ending fighting.

Dad, where did you go?
One more talk on the park bench
I long to see you