Misty words billow in the cold
Pluming from their mouths
Quiet swearing and first *** coughing
They walk close to hedgerows
Kicking the dew from the grass
As birds squabble over breakfast
And mushrooms are still socialising
They whistle the dogs to heel
All panting and wagging tails
Stirring the dawn damp air
For happy is the early dog
In these sumptuous fields

Now the business of dawn begins
Low sharp commands are uttered
Bringing the younger bounding learners
To a proper sense of purpose
And that high-toned cross breed
The sleek and swift lurcher
Is eternally proud and primed
This long-sprint racer
Takes inevitable chase
Without sentiment or concious cruelty
An ancient craft is practised here
With the dogs at dawn

                                By Phil Roberts

One says
"I'll race you to the gutter."
The other one says
"Yeah, but I'll beat you to hell."
Followed by lots of liquid laughter
And they think they're joking

                                     By Phil Roberts

A mind can burn
So white hot
That it bleaches the senses
And dislocates the soul
Did you know that?

And sleep can be terrifying
Because of haunting dreams
Dreams of huge steel wheels
With vicious toothed cogs
All waiting to catch and crush
As the dreamer slips and falls

Reality etches with acid
Ignoring hopes and plans
And the innocent shall scream
As the guilty creep away
Food turns to maggots
And drink turns to ****
And this is the intensity
Of madness

                             By Phil Roberts

You stand before me like a wall
Awaiting the character of graffiti
You see me as some frozen myth
Within the solid ice of past
You see no movement
Such short and shallow vision
I am already you and more
Listen to my years
Read the maps of my scars
Why insist on fresh blood of your own?

You are not me
Nor am I less
And you don't know anymore
It's different now
You're out of touch

Have new emotions been discovered?
New hungers?
New desires?
New hatreds?
New loves?

Different containers
Same emotions

                      By Phil Roberts

I felt this primal urge
This trance-like instinct
To set things right
In case I have to leave
Move on, so to speak

So
I took my jaundiced eye
And rolled it from corner to corner
Of this, my situation
And I felt so very small and hard
Lost in largeness
For cynicism is a tight thing
Which allows little movement
A strange kind of chastity

And then, you see
Changes
Honesty demanded that I see more
Grow, so to speak

And oh, my poor sore eyes
See how the children starve
All over this bitter world
This bitter, sickened world
And cynicism did this
Through the slack hands of millions
Who still refuse to believe
That things can be changed

                                    By Phil Roberts

I used to work with a guy
A good friend of mine
He was as sharp as anyone I knew
Nobody's fool at all
With laser eyes and brain
He missed nothing
A hard and shrewd man was he

In his slightly younger days
He had been a member of the Samurai
The local biker gang
He used to go around
With a dead mouse sewn
To the shoulder of his leather jacket
Doing the things that bikers do

One day we were hand packing
Half a dozen or so of us
Working quietly, for once
All of us elsewhere in our heads
It's the only way to cope with the boredom
Steve was next to me and I heard him
Singing to himself unaware of listeners
And what was this shrewd hard man singing?
"Milly Molly Mandy as sweet as sugar candy....."

                                              BY Phil Roberts

I do not speak in sombre tones
Not for me the gentle echo
Hushing through hallowed halls
I shall growl my way to the grave
Be ****** to the insignificant
And to hell with the indifferent
There are no rules or rulers
There are only fools and foolers

I need no-one else's straight lines
I have imagination enough to swerve
And spite enough to spin
Snapping snarling and seditious
Spitting venomous and vicious
Flamed by the world's injustice
And humanity's indifference
Not until I am dead burned and scattered
Shall I rest assured

                                By Phil Roberts

I know that there have been times,
down the bruised and misread years,
when I have been hard and cold.
Perhaps even seeming to be cruel
But, please remember who I am
And where it is I've come from.
Born to gossip and scandal
and raised in the family war zone,
trust and tenderness, at times,
seem illusory to me.
Unknowable.
Like smoke in my hands.
But I still try.

                                  By Phil Roberts

When he was young he flew
With a gang of jackdaws
Who had empty hearts
And huge appetites
Without mercy or remorse
They stripped their world
Of all that they wanted
But it felt wrong to him
He had been brought up
Amongst jackdaws and crows
But it never felt right to him
And in the end
He grew to be a different bird
And left the jackdaws behind
As he flew higher and farther away
And learned

                          By Phil Roberts

I have moved to a different drum
With odd and peculiar rhythms
Dancing awkwardly through life
On my two flat clumsy feet
It is not the way I chose
To step on innocent toes
But the wildness of my dance
Has had no easy flow
The blame lies entirely with me
It's a genetic thing, you see
I am no more than this
The son of the gypsy's kiss

                                By Phil Roberts

I knew he was dying
I thought maybe a few weeks left
So still and so quiet
This man whose laugh made us all laugh
The man who always had ideas
Where to go, what to do for a laugh
Always a laugh
Sharer of adventures
Partner in crime
For thirty-six crazy years
Dying before my eyes and
Taking much of my life with him

He'd had a massive stroke a year earlier
They said he'd die then
But he defied them and recovered a lot
Proper conversations and learning to walk
Then they discovered that he had cancer
And here we were five weeks later
"How long are you gonna be in here?" I asked
He turned his head and looked hard at me
"I die next week," he said
As though he had an appointment

He got three days, not a week
I cried seeing him dying
But I was relieved for him when he did
Now my old friend is gone
And it's a duller world without him

                                       By Phil Roberts

Dust amidst dust
A resting place of sorts
However many kites you flew
You never left the ground
You never heard a sound
Beyond the rage you screamed
Tearing down flags
In revolutionary rags
And changing nothing
Going nowhere
Sat in your armchair
Dust amidst dust

                                By Phil Roberts

The priest puts his trust
In martyrs and miracles
Clutching his rosary and his celibacy
To his bursting breast
And humanity walks
Through a series of cages
Every day

The ***** puts her trust
In bordellos and bodies
Clutching her money and her condoms
To her brassy breast
And humanity walks
Through a series of cages
Every day

The lawyer puts his trust
In regulations and rules
Clutching his charters and his decrees
To his dusty breast
And humanity walks
Through a series of cages
Every day

We each put our trust
In roles and rituals
Clutching convention and convenience
To our timid *******
So humanity continues to walk
Through a series of self-made cages
Every day

                 By Phil Roberts

You've seen her a hundred times
With a hundred faces
But she's always the same
Always at the bar
She's there when you arrive
And she'll be there when you you leave
There beside the fullest ash-tray
Lighting another cigarette
With fluttery fidgety fingers

Her lipstick is far too red
And not quite straight
Too much make up to hide the lines
Which show all the more
As she cracks the mask to smile
Her hair is too yellow
And her eyes are long lost grey
The arc which her glass follows to her mouth
Is restless and constant

As the evening wears on
She will talk too loudly
She may even sing out of tune
She will laugh too shrilly
When nothing is funny
But sometimes
When it's late
She sheds silent messy tears
As she rocks on her bar stool
Because there's a reason
This woman at the bar
Has a story as real as any other
And it matters just as much

                                    By Phil Roberts

Stay the moon
Cloudless and glowing
In her naked splendour
With her silver-white light
Cutting shadows
With sudden edges
Sharp enough to shave a man's face
Let her alien ambience
And constant strangeness
Reshape perception

And how stars sparkle
Heavenly diamonds on velvet night
So very many to see
And more beyond numbers
That our eyes will never see
And every moving star
Holds it's clutch of planets
An uncountable number
Of unheard stories

                                    By Phil Roberts

As so often
I find myself telling the same story
Of a reckless young man
Who skated on thin ice
With every move and decision
A gamble
A spin of the wheel
Risking sanity, soul and life
Spin and spin again
Add passion to the grinding day
Add colour to the morbid grey
Oh, foolish young man
Now that he's old and damaged
Boredom raises it's dull-eyed head
As he practises being dead
Spin and spin again

                                  By Phil Roberts

They lie warm together
In the afterglow of torrid love
Her head on his chest, he says
"Sing me to sleep, my love"
So she hums and croons
A tune he does not recognize
With soothing sounding words
In a language he does not recognize
"I love you," he murmurs as his eyes close
"I know," she says smiling
And so, as he sleeps
She lies open-eyed
Imagining a future he will not recognize

                                        By Phil Roberts

Yet again the rain.
Once again
washing the colour from the day.
Wet and liquid grey
clouds  obliterating the sun,
preventing full daylight from
reaching this streaming place.
Until, an early dreary evening
when, with curtains closed
drum-rolls against the window
as passing flurries of wind
throw volleys at the glass
here where the rain lives.

                                       By Phil Roberts

Hey, old friend
Remember the days?
The times we got so drunk we could barely crawl
What a laugh!
Other nights we'd be so wired
We chewed our lips to shreds
And do you remember that opiated Nepalese
While the rest were throwing up or falling down
We kept right on smoking
'Til we could barely find our feet
Haha!
And then tripping out at Fool's Nook
Thinking the water in the stream was diamonds
The mushrooms weren't so magic if you got a bad one
But wasn't it fun!
Going to dodgy Manchester pubs for the gear
Haha, remember that night I nearly got myself shot?
I've never talked so fast in all my life
And now that we're middle-aged
Where are we now, old friend?
You're dead and I'm falling to bits
Such fun

                            By Phil Roberts

Strange creatures circle the edges
And their eyes are hungry and haunted
One day their teeth shall glint dangerously
And I know it very well
For I shall be their meat
Though I cannot imagine fear
And I should feel something

Several people are asking me for help
But I shall probably turn away
For uncertainty clings to my head
Like a monkey that cannot be shaken
With claws in my eyes
I try to see my way out
But, of course, there is none
And the demands on my name
Echo where my conscience should be

Passengers come and go
On my endless journey
The landscape is familiar
And occasionally a memory smiles and waves
All too briefly, it seems
I feel I ought to cry more
But nothing seems to hurt as it used to
Only my nakedness makes me cold

                                               By Phil Roberts

I recently went through a spell
When I had one minor and two major operations
In rather quick succession
One of the consequences of this was
That I didn't see my grandkids for months on end
Primary schools being, as they are
The Petrie dishes for all human disease
So, it was decided that as I was either waiting for
Or recovering from surgery
To keep them away from me
Until I was in the clear
And when I was in the clear
I was soooo glad to see four of them
The youngest of my grandkids
Are twin boys, far from identical
And at this time they were about six
One standing a head taller than the other
And at seperate points in the day
Independant of each other
Each twin said the same thing
"Grampy, I  thought you were allergic to kids."
And to each I gave the same reply
Once I stopped laughing
"Ah well, sometimes it's better than others."
I can see the picture now
"Mummy, why can't we see Grampy?"
Jenny, doing a thousand other things
And no time for explanations
"Grampy's allergic to kids!"

                                              By Phil Roberts

Falling from one day into the next
They slowly drag and the nights ache
But I'm used to feeling the cold.
With no direction required
And hopes of salvation long gone
I shall walk calmly through the fire
And simply carry on
I refuse to lose the gypsy within
Old and ****** and ****** if I care
I shall continue to sin and to grin
With new roads to travel to nowhere
Amen

                     By Phil Roberts

When your footsteps falter and slip
Hold on to me
If your eyes fill with tears
And the future seems blurred and distant
I'll be there to take your hand
You may not see me
But you'll feel me there
Right beside you
Always
So hold on to me

                        By Phil Roberts

There are times in my life
When all I want to do
Is to disappear
No plans
No questions
And no recriminations
Just disappearance
To nowhere

                            By Phil Roberts

I didn't fall into disrepute
So much as occur there

                                    By Phil Roberts

Here I go again
Dubious footsteps
Questionable motives
Perusing the dark and restless past
Changing as perceptions change
And perceptions change with
The tolerance of added years and distance
Creating the uncertainty of honesty
Turn black and white
Into grey elusive shadows
And there
Amidst the darkness of my past
And all my pointless journeys
For the first time ever
I see a small white light
Constant and unblinking
And I am aware deep inside
That this is the long awaited
Birth of peace

                        By Phil Roberts

The comedian starts off with
"Ladies and gentlemen,
It's wonderful to be here in downtown Telford..."
Enid in the audience says, " Ew, I don't like his
shirt. What colour would you call that...puce?"
Edna says, " Looks more like puke to me."
Giggle giggle giggle

The comedian carries on unaware
"Yes, downtown Telford.
The Hollywood stars all holiday here y'know.
Oh yes, the place is awash with champagne and *******."
He smiles ruefully. "Asif. I'm lucky to get brown ale...
and all that gets up my nose is the wife!"
Enid says, "I don't get that."

The comic continues,
"My wife is very demanding y'know....
She says to me recently that she wants more ***!
The ****** woman's never satisfied....."

Edna says, "That reminds me....
how did you go on with him from packing?"
"Well...." says Enid.........

And the comic continues
"More *** at her age.......!
So, I thinks to meself, I'll play along, so
I says....What's the matter with you!
Ain't once a year enough for you?
Quick as a flash she says, "No it ain't.
I'm sick of waiting for Santa!"

Enid says ".....I just saw this purple thing.
I had no idea what it was 'till I touched it!"
Much laughter ensues
And comedy continues.

                                By Phil Roberts

He ducks and dives
All across the sky
He flies
Yes, he flies
And this is a life form
This is a means to an end
And this is the name
The name is "Dealer"

And "Dealer" says
"You got-ta
Sor-ta
Think in cartoons
You know
It makes it easier"
And this is only possible
Because of need

So he bobs and weaves
And gladly deceives
He lies
Yes, he lies
Because, in the end
It's a living
That's all

                          By Phil Roberts

When I was little
My mother bought me a tiny sailor suit
Why?
We didn't even live near the sea
However
She and grandma decided to take me to town
To show me off in my new suit
And so I was scrubbed up shiny
My unruly hair was plastered to my head
And proud smiles were exchanged
But
They must have looked away for a second
Because the next thing they knew
My sailor suit was stuffed down the toilet
And I was doing a runner up the road
Completely naked
My first protest made

                               By Phil Roberts

I have a friend in north Wales
She's a scouser but lives in Rhyl
Her job is taking care of young adults
Who have learning dificulties
They live in hostels where they are overseen
By my friend and her colleagues
So, another friend of our's rang her at work
And asked if she was busy
She said that she wasn't as they were all out
So and so had gone shopping with so and so
Someone else had gone here
Another had gone there
And one had gone to the harpoonist
As usual, for lessons
From a harpoonist?
Yeah, you know
Someone who plays harp

                                    By Phil Roberts

Protected by a suit of dreams
And armed with a smile
He came out of nowhere
And went his own way

Seemingly believing nothing
And walking in no-one else's footsteps
He follows no rules without reasons
But he knows right from wrong
And he knows that's what matters

In a world of easy hypocrisy
Where compassion is stifled by fear
And belief is a reason to hate
To hate and destroy other beliefs
He goes his own way

                              By Phil Roberts

Walking in the cold rain
Alone and
Going nowhere
Just hiding tears in raindrops

Always dreaming of being lost
Lost and then
The endless fall
Then the gasping awakening

But always the rain will end
And sunrise
Put an end
To the cruelty of night

And life will begin in warmth
And hope
Blossoms
Into the sweetest softest petals

                                           By Phil Roberts

Hello
It's me again
It's the early hours and I'm slightly drunk
And it's me again

He has the sins of his mind
Which keep him warm inside
Amidst the weary and the wasted
Such warmth keeps him alive

Restless
I've always been restless
I hate to move yet I can't sit still
Hours are endless

There is a thrush inside his head
An agony of wings
Panic beaten thrashing
A cage of singing things

Anxious
Still always anxious
Even though I've slowed right down
This edge is ageless

Laying low and watching
A million sub-plots hatching
Paranoid and paranormal
He scatters to survive

                                    By Phil Roberts

The setting sun still blazes
A white hot disc
It's final defiant rays
Shaped and shifted
By the softly sailing layers of cloud
And feathers and threads of vapour
All reflected as glinting sequins
Upon the sparkling sea
As it softly  rolls and splashes
Rattling pebbles and empty shells
Invading and the disappearing beach
Seasoning the air
With salty spray to sharpen the senses
And the ceaseless rhythm of the murmuring tide
Stirs and caresses the soul
And whispers of a million memories
Time and tide and ocean
At peace in endless motion

                                  By Phil Roberts

Won't you sing for me,
Please?
It's been so long
Since I thrilled to the trills and warbles
Of your living song
This confused and bruised winter
Has defied nature's logic
So, set the world to rights
And sing for me
To remind me
That I'm part of something
That still remains wild
And vivid

                            By Phil Roberts

Inside the news today
A man made up his mind
The casual cages that held his rages
Were becoming a bit of a bind
So he locked himself in his room
And cultivated his gloom
Then carefully selected his time

At last he waited until
Those who spoke to him still
Were on their way to a working day
With another eight hours to ****
Then he casually did the deed
And then he watched himself bleed
With a curiously impersonal thrill

So, slowly he died
Right there where he lied
He lay in a pool the red dead fool
So sadly and badly demised
It was in the papers that night
And they spelt his name right
He had finally made the big time

                            By Phil Roberts

A few weeks ago
As winter drew to an uncertain end
A family of great **** attracted my attention
They would take it in turns
To fly against the windows
Not crashing into it, as some have done
Then, after a few days of this
They started sitting on the window sills
And tapping the glass with their beaks
I was amazed and dumbfounded
I'd never seen anything quite like this
And it went on for days
Anyway, there is an old bird feeder in the garden
So, we got some wild bird food
And filled it up completely
From that moment on
The birds ignored us and just fed
They're getting too **** clever
These wild and mindless creatures

                                            By Phil Roberts

A stark shaded light swings
From the office ceiling
Making cartoon shadows chase
Crazily around the walls
She stands on one leg
Quite easily and bizarrely
And types with her other foot
Tapping the lettered keys
With the stiletto heel of her shoe
And hanging in the juggling rays of light
There is a trilby hat with teeth and no eyes
Wearing a raincoat indoors
Ectoplasmic cigarette smoke coils
A trilling piano
Tickles around a neon light
Somewhere
Out there

The stiletto becomes a cigarette holder
Daintily dribbling ash
****** trumpet notes insinuate
Sliding brass around the walls
Overlaying the chasing shadows
Teeth do a flash-bulb grin
The top comes off a bottle
And two glasses are splashed into
Negotiations are pursued
A flirting of commerce
Flash!
That grin again
A service has been purchased
Glasses *****
The light still swings
A jazz singer sings
Pouring sweetness over the neon light
Somewhere
Out there

Outside the moon scowls in silver
A pistol writes an anonymous threat
And with inappropriate optimism
The chorus presents
A monstrous garish dance routine
Bang!
And screams off-stage
The dance becomes the soft-shoe scatter
Hands slide inside double-breasted jackets
The cops howlingly arrive!
Car doors slam, bam!
But all players have dispersed
The night is seamless again
And a lazy jazz band plays
Behind the neon light
Somewhere
Out there

                     By Phil Roberts

I've got to be honest
I don't give a flying ****
About the queen's birthday
When all's said and done
She never sends me a card

                                    By Phil Roberts

All of the shining mad ones
With their heresies of reality
And other visions and other voices
Are not diminished
By the multitude of choices
That is their truth
Upon each waking day

They are woken by the howl
From beyond the first ear
And into the deeper mind
Where there is other language
And blinding colours of emotion
For madness has the purity of pain
That martyrs can only long for

                                           By Phil Roberts

When I was a younger man
Time moved so much quicker
There was always something happening
Always something changing
Somewhere to go
Something to catch up with
Or even to escape from
People came and went
Then came and went again
"Where's he living these days?"
"Who knows what's happening?"

Now things are quieter and calmer
In this age of ghosts
In the land of the lost and lonely
Where once there was speed
There's nowhere to go
And nothing much changes
Even my dreams remain the same
As, with an unaccustomed patience
I write poems
And wait

                              By Phil Roberts

Death patiently files his nails
And smokes a casual cigarette
Grinning and eyeless
He says so calmly
"Catch you later
Brave little dreamer"

Despite such brittle certainty
Men and women build
Despite such small mortality
Every space is filled
In the midst of death's destruction
Men and women build again

Fear, like a cringing bowel
Exudes an acrid stench
And whimpers and whines
Simpers and cries
"Don't you dare
Don't you ever dare"

Despite this clinging dread
Some will need to dare
Despite the bursting head
Dreams insist on birth
In the midst of our stupidities
Something wondrous strives

                                    By Phil Roberts

That's me in the middle
In the middle of the world
Just as everyone else
Is in the centre of their's
And we'll never meet
Or even live in the same climate
A thousand miles to west or east
And yet
By the grace of various miracles
Your words may move me
And hopefully, mine will move you
To defy distance and differences

                                                    By Phil Roberts

We were both wounded when we met
And, like fools
We thought our heat would heal us
And the heat became fire
Consuming us in full flame and blinding smoke
But we are too alike, you and I
Both wild and crazy
With matching dualling tempers
Until healing became fresh wounds
And reasons to part

Now we've been here before
And one time too many
I'm too tired for the battle
If we ever meet again
What you always said will be true
We'll meet in the flames of hell
Good-bye Faded Blue

                            By Phil Roberts

Those days are still around
Right there in the eyes
Small pieces of scripture
Spiritual desperation
Down all those long years gone
Gleaming
Needing
Seething
Spitting teeth and grieving
And a child still cries
In all the bleakest nights
Within the shell of an adult
Still cries, still cries
Still prays for someone kind
To stop the shaking
And wipe away the tears
To fill the belly
To count the injuries
And fill in the forms
But nothing ever -
Somehow never -
Helps

                By Phil Roberts

I dreamed that I knew you
But that was only a dream

I once met a man
In a pub full of gangstas and dealers
And fools like me
Who thrived on the adrenaline and the anarchy
This young man returned my buddy's keys
Not the place to leave them on the bar
So we got talking, as you would
And this young black guy was impressive
He was obviously intelligent and articulate
As straight forward and easy going
As the place allowed
We got on pretty well
Saw each other and said hi a few times
Chatted at the bar occasionally
Then I didn't see him for a while
Until I saw his picture in the papers
He had shot and killed a man
For machete-ing his younger brother
It just goes to show
We never really know

                             By Phil Roberts

You could take her home
To meet mom and dad
Yet still the secret desire
Of a young boy's *******

Sharp eye make-up and gleaming smile
Yes, bright white constant smile
Presenting neutral facts in a neutral way
With loose-cheeked speech
Like a child whose face has yet to become fixed

The auto-cue leaves little room for sincerity
Though sympathy is shown at appropriate times
In an appropriately professional way
A slight pause, then the smile switch flicks again
And on once more to less somber items

                                                         By Phil Roberts

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

My emotional life
Is a blind three-legged mule called Idiot
He limps around, occasionally falling over
As he wanders in circles in his darkness
Because he is an idiot
He makes no sense of the sounds he hears
And so, out of compassion
I've decided to put him out of his misery
Click
Bang!

                        By Phil Roberts

Won't you sing for me,
Please?
It's been so long
Since I thrilled to the trills and warbles
Of your living song
This confused and bruised winter
Has defied nature's logic
So, set the world to rights
And sing for me
To remind me
That I'm part of something
That still remains wild
And vivid

                            By Phil Roberts