I have taken
her shimmering body
and have made her
believe it's dull

And beyond the Marlboro clouds,
a God so violent and true,
there is a shriveled, purple stare
prefacing the burnt orange fog.

Where felt-up boys and girls
go to play, a perfect Devil, watching,
boundless in carbonated memory,
drunkenly gazing at trauma, fire --
celebrating each skin-sticky melt
that happens in each razed brain.

Vanished on top of an green-spread hill,
******* in the damp Irish air,
a neutral party does emerge,
taking in the tumblr wave,
witnessing water-logged Amazombies,
bruised with ambition.

You stumble barefoot
Across thorns
Towards broken glass
Everyday
You fight against the tide
The tide of the tears you've cried
Never going down
Refusing to drown
And all that I can do
Is send my words  to you

                                            By Phil Roberts

I drank in the steely woods, fragmented to all within;
a manger boy without his Godly toy, swallowed by the sin.
And without the gaze of the zombified masses,
scraping their plates, buying, then christening their glasses,
I realized that I was the fire that I had always feared;
a pretending son of something other than what I am;
a shimmer of a crystallized storm, smothered by shame
and tortured by the resent of recent rain....

Blah, Blah, Blah, Blah
A desert-dry painted scorned
Ripped to shreds by hell-gate thrown
Forever summoned to grated life

The moon dangled hard through the city
and the moth-lamps hummed discord with the wetness.
The dripping stars like accidents in spilt milk,
waited for a mop.

Walking home I hallucinated men
coiled up with the smoke-stacks.
They pressed through the brickwork and
as shadows flickered in the street-light.

Though my torch cut them down like saplings
and the moon ripped off their heads like scarecrows,
each man was a sermon,
a vastness straining the borders of sight.

A tailored uselessness hung there arms,
waspish currents tore from their mouths.
Starlings turned on their cross-wind,
as messengers of some sleeveless silence.

The moonlight fell on them like whorls,
like hurricane petals, hostile
were the shopsigns, they moved backhandedly.
The gulls raged. The crows filled silence they left.

The shadows all danced to the back of my head.
And when I turned they were gone.
I'm plucking for life and a body.
That shrinks the world to their size.

Love is something magical...
You never know when it is going to hit you...
It can take years...
Or seconds...
You may fall in love with someone you know for 10 years...
Or fall in love with someone you just met...
That's the grace of falling in love...
You're actually never prepared...
You suddenly find yourself overwhelmed by this fantastic feeling kinda like a tsunami and all you want is drown in it...
Because it's best to embrace it...
Love is better when you embrace it and feel with all your heart...
You've been through a lot... Yes...
But, don't be afraid...
Love...

Open hips
Open lips
Open throats
Open arms
Open minds
Open ears

Where are the open hearts?