Life is like a play
Every place a stage
Each line never fades
And beginnings are new pages.

Life is like a play
Full of life, love
And sadness that was all
Written from storytellers above.

When the lights are switched off
No centre stage nor audience
We ask ourselves "where do we go?"
When there is no longer a show...

where ironically I had met two good people,
they like me got caught up in the desires
of too much too easily, turned white powder or green buds
into easy money, got ratted out by some bad dudes.

Time and space compressed into six by eight
and seconds so vast , made you question  god
sanity your preferences and friends. Made me dream of cigarettes.
Lit up then disappearing as I tried to take a puff.

forgot desires dreams tomorrow, it's the way
the condemned survive. Gave up the thoughts of revenge, tried to
stop the constant dread of closing eyes
seeing your two year old or wife crying.

made a way around the baddest cons, gotta face them
eye to eye or be their ***** forever, and the iron did not ever
take that from me. It stole my soul pride independence future
kids hope and religion, never made me ****, never could,
make me that.

I was told what to eat when to talk walk sit stand speak, yeah
like a dog, had my fill of thugs guards wardens parole boards
the rec room the basketball court the scene,
then came across two of the baddest dudes

quite like me who took their lumps, showed me how to
make great tacos out  of commissary crud, how to roll a
toilet paper cigarette , how to hide my shank and my pencils.

they told me of the dudes who caved in to the feds
and got off for turning them in. What they once had plans
to do to them. But got smart. So smart they became teachers preachers
jailhouse lawyers superfly calm and confident inside.

And I got out.
I had never fallen for the jailhouse Christian ****, the hail mary's said by the crack head murderers who thought JC might get them out. The child rapists, house invaders, lower than dogs, who promised, with
that emptiness of eye that they now were saved.******* weak hypocrites. ******* electric chair heros, crying I am sorry. Fry them.

It was Saturday night. They gave me a set of clothes and twenty bucks.
Pushed me out into the night, clutching a small piece of paper that held my two friends  names and jailhouse numbers on it. I had something.
I walked as far as fast as I could. No destination in mind, no course plotted, I walked up hill this time though. The hard way I had been taught.

I arrived at a fancy Cathedral in town at ten the next morning. Marveled at the well dressed people and fancy cars. Everything seemed
shining. Until I saw all the well- heeled turn around and gasp as
I sank wearily alone into the back pew.

I woke up with people washing my feet.
Now I gotta write Jimmy and Bubba in jail,
and profess, there is hope.
Tell them there is more than us three
good people on earth.

Blood wrote your name
on white orchid petals

Love carried them to the Seat
sure and swift of foot

Time pulled them
out onto the sky's edge.

I left them for the Monarch to devour

Held in your arms until the dead of night turns into mornings first light. My soul is at rest , just to feel your warmth and to hear you breathe. When dawn's first light has come, I will lie still in your arms. Your strength embraces me in love that cannot be defined. I will rise to my labors secure in the joy and tranquility that the comfort of your love gives to me.

Come here and listen to me
There are ugly deep shadows
Where things could be leering
Snarling and hungry
Heavy and threatening
****** in the wriggling damp
The age dripping damp
Where dead leaves rot and fatten the earth
Come close and listen to me

Don't go down there
No, don't go down there
They're doing strange things in the dark
You shouldn't have come to the park
On your own
Don't go walking alone

This is no place for one so young
And soft
Delicately tremblingly white
And soft
Run home with your soul gripped tight
Before someone
Some muddied gritty  someone
Touches
In the shadows and shrubs
And the night

                             By Phil Roberts