I must say , another day draws nigh,
I hate to go , I want to linger,
catch that glimpse of loneliness
shone so far away in red white
and blue of course,
her paints
her name \her lingering smell
that first taste of lips
right in that
space I saw her standing there
watching me
as the night touched the day

Spinal necessity exists
Between ludicrous *****
And the pulsating brain
Lumbering and slobbering
Separate from the mind
Which is tuned to distraction
Feeling every nuance
As a ricochet
For this sensitivity is not delicate
But damning and demanding

Tentative toes step around
Lightly sleeping memories
Which will bawl upon waking
Demanding delivery
Into the light of recognition
But, evading perspective
They become demonic in aspect
Causing crashes
Stamping all over corpses
Bringing them alive
And each of these ghastly debutantes
mutters softly
"Dream of me"

                                By Phil Roberts

In the carnival of the Barrio
The moment's invent themselves,
Another world apart from
The lunatic normalcy,
       Confederation of fire,
The nomadic nocturne spiraling
Into the darkness,
    A magnetosphere of addiction,
A high voltage need
That crawls on the very skin.
            
        People in a drama:
A woman limps bursting
Into the eyes of the unseeing,
A hand for a hand,
The emotions stir inside,
Coins fall into her,
       Clusters of emotions,
Spinning webs that scatter
The hearts,
She skips off into the cityscape.

I see a people in a tunnel vision,
Perhaps I am part of them,
I speak as I watch the addicted;
       A forest of needles
       In the arms that reach,
A man whose youth is alive
In the body that's seems so old,
     The endless hand that reaches,
Falling without falling,
The night insisting on his existence,
Hands full, he runs to deal with
Himself.

The desolation of the addicted,
A couple holding hands
Walking the street,
He lets her go into the sky
And she is picked up
By a raining comet,
He waits for her return,
Money in hand,
To the nocturnal lament
They become as they pass through
The eye of a needle.

The streets were once rivers,
The houses were once gold,
But the night takes the shimmering
And turns it away from
The additicted nocturnal.

Carla said I must fast, no food, only water,
For the first three days of the New Year.

Your body yearns to have your mind in control, she told me,
This is the fatal flaw in all your attempts at happiness, she said,
If you ever stop searching for the source of your misery,
In a bowl of poutine or between the legs of an ingénue,
God this pathetic ability you have to impress young women,

Will you ever free yourself from the haste of ***,
The burst and blinding flash of ******,
I’ve seen you writhe and discharge,
Only to watch you tremble
And discover once again how alone you are.

Without ******, life is meaningless I explained,
And I watched the maple syrup slip, slide and curl
Into the center of my bowl of porridge.

*******, Carla said,
If I lightly brush my fingernails up the side of your arm
You will shiver,
A faux ****** right here in this slovenly kitchen of yours,

*** in a carnival act, almost a trick,
Evolution isn’t your friend, she said, it doesn’t want you to think.
It wants you to **** and die,
To fertilize and retire
And so it offers you this cheesy reward,
An ******, an insult, in hopes you will fornicate and forget.

You have a mind, or a remnant,
Embrace chastity for year
And then thank me for the clarity,
Start with your fast, immediately, she said
Carla leaned into me
And picked up my bowl of porridge.
The sweet smell of syrup lingered forever.

Young enough to know
that what they’ll have me
believe of this world
is a shadowy truth at best.
The lesson
in each dancing darkness
on my wall is love, &
we’re nothing but silhouettes
until the lights come on.

When a soft sparkle shimmers across the evening sky, or the water glimmers with ripples expanding ever outward in concentric circles, I will think of those I know, knew, and lost. I will remember them with a smile, and I will strive to be worthy of their love. I live this life for me not separate but part of a human collective and I offer my hand in hope to all even those who may bare me some malice. This is not naiveté, but love. Love for those who love but most important love for those who hate and I hope that by loving I can teach them to turn away from their rage and embrace everyone for what they truly are. Brothers and sisters to us all