If ever
I get too old to laugh
**** me

                   By Phil Roberts

I realize  that when you asked me to  feed your two calicos
while vacationing, I wasn’t given title to  pluck four large
tomatoes  from  your perfectly trained  vines.

The tomatoes were Christmas red, unbruised
and husky. It seemed criminal and unfair
to my palate not to devour them
by dusk the day I stole them;

in my shallow defense
both of your cats
repeatedly hissed
at me when fed.

Dolefully trudge to my chamber this night.
Carrying burden of this inimical plight.
Scrawling as a means to drop this weight light.
But alas, who will read these words that I write?

.........................................................­...........

Heaven in a dark place.
Jokers with no face.
Not a moment free yet not a thing to do.
The theif paints his cell wall.
With crushed plants and they fall.
Ivory clouds speckle the sky of blue.
Deep in the brain stem.
A bulb burning light dim.
Wallows the roots of everything once feared.
Blind marchers guiding.
Hunters found hiding.
Messy brigade leaves the ruins cleared.
Time will move on and on and on and on and on you too soon.
By the time eyes adjust to the sun you'll be seeing the moon.

I hope I never dance in a world
Where the sun doesn't say goodbye
By painting colors in the sky.
And my skin isn't my home.

I hope that I can forever feel
The ones I've loved
So our time doesn't feel rushed.
And I can see as far as my feet can take me.