Paint me.

Add color onto my purity.

Sacrifice your clean brush,
for an angry stroke of red.

Let the colors define your emotions.

Paint a strong current of blue to show me,
just how sad you really are.

Let the colors define you.

Let a little green in,
portray your caring heart.

Let me in.

Add a tinge of yellow around the corners,
holding onto that thin line of faith you still have.

Let go of yourself, artist.

Stipple white gently,
and match me.

Let everything you hold be free.

But remember to avoid black,
for it destroys a perfect painting.

But if you must,
then add black,

and destroy me.

i have known nights
where men walk the sun
and the stars count people

sheep huddle together
in grassy fields
dreaming
of fences
worn down

see, the funny thing
about nights is
at some point
you can’t tell the difference
between the first
and the last

(And hey,
****** ******
The cat’s lost his fiddle
Orion’s got a belt
Round his neck)

the lass
on the moon
plucks planets
from the blue
and decorates
the tangles in
her hair

see, the funny thing
about dreaming is
at some point
you can’t tell the difference
between what hurts
and what doesn’t

(The cat’s started drinking
Orion’s stopped thinking)

dawn
decides to sleep in
for just
another hour
or two

see, the funny thing
about nights is
i have always known them
but know nothing
of you

(And the fiddle has gone out of tune).

It is in my dreams
The flowing stream
The ghost in the machine
Light pulsing
Life growing
Not knowing
How or why
Who we are
My finger flicks my face
Impulse or predestiny
Thoughts become me
Or I become my thoughts
I cannot say for sure
But it is fun to think about I think

Come softly, stranger
Step inside the light
Here is home of a sort
Here is nowhere else to go

Such staggering ambiguity
Such all-consuming cruelty
I see it all so clearly now
Wide-eyed and unheeding
Unaware of double-dealing
I was an innocent
And then I was born
Wise to the lies of the womb
And with a grudge for being disturbed

                                           By Phil Roberts

As I walk
the words of those that never existed
echo inside of my mind

I have learned
that you don't have to share each other's blood
to be the closest brothers

I can hear
thousands of voices swelling up inside
each begging for just one chance

I can see
every one of those smiling faces
that I've never laid eyes upon

Now I know
I'm friends with those that never existed
those that I have never met

I have fought
hundreds of battles with nary a scratch
but been mortally wounded

For I am
A warrior, a queen, a servant, a child,
a mere bystander

Because I
Have a library inside of my head
of all that I read

no more last straws
I deserve better,
and there are no parentheses this time.