Put the kettle on
The Dodger's here
Him and me sat chatting in the sun
As happy as gypsies leaving town
We have a lifetime between us
Over forty years of friendship
And a thousand events and people
Indelible memories
Me teaching him his first chords
Fingers stumbling on the frets
Now he plays like a dream
And he's taking the band
Into the studio next month

All down the years
It's been music and laughter
And a few daft adventures
A few rows but then
We're both fiery characters
And they were soon forgotten
In favour of a laugh or a song

And now we sit in the sun
Remembering old friends
And "Do you remember when"s
The summer of '76 was rich
Guitars in the hills
Writing songs and poetry
Happy days, old friend
Happy days indeed

                                 By Phil Roberts

Let me be easy
to let me rest my head and close my eyes.
Let me be at peace
with the world and even myself.
Let my weary soul rest.
May the demons sleep tonight.

                                       By Phil Roberts

Slender and tenuous reasons
Run through the droplets of motive
Which impel us in our actions
Direct us to  our self-fulfilling fates
Our cleverly devised mistakes
For we each bear the scars
Of our own fatal flaws
Victims of our own design
As I have been of mine
Haven't you?

I am the saboteur of my dreams
Picking at the seams
Of a braver me
A wiser and unlikelier me
All my tendencies and traits
Conspire and defeat me
To subtly beat me
About my empty head
With every word I've said
Every thought I've had
And that's why

                       By Phil Roberts

These days it seems
I remember my early childhood
Better than the contents of my last meal
Dementia creeps.......

Right now,
I'm remembering one early evening
With four of us small boys
Sitting on a wall
Discussing the realities of the world
As we knew it

The moon was pale but visible
And a subject for discussion
As serious as old men playing chess
We wondered how far away it could be
One lad said it was farther than London
But we knew that was obviously wrong
After all
We could see the moon
No-one had seen London

                                       By Phil Roberts

I was once called
A communist, a fascist and an anarchist
All in one sentence
Which I thought was quite impressive
And this was because I was a union man
My fellow workers elected me to represent them
In our dealings with management
I was involved in negotiations
About the application of regulations
And other tedious vexations
And on rare occasions
I led disputes and even strikes
And, over the years
I helped to save many jobs
Not numbers
But peoples' livelihoods
Some will say I was a rabble-rouser
An agitator
Some can say as they like
All I ever did
Was stand up for the underdog
And I hope I always will

                                   By Phil Roberts

Everything seems to be
cold to the touch.
I can't remember if that means something.
Maybe it just means everything's cold.
Not that it matters all that much,
as long as I'm not'
I suppose there's hope

                                           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

These long nights
Leave far too much room
For reflection

                                  By Phil Roberts

Now that I've lived all these years
And experienced so many things
With my march to Oldfartdom
On it's inexorable way
I've been thinking about the things I've learned
Perhaps to pass on to others

Well.......
It's like this
Life is wonderful
And life is ******
Love is elating
Love is devastating
Birth is a true miracle
Being a parent is scary
Money is a blessing
Whilst wealth is a curse
So......
What do I know?

                              By Phil Roberts

Look at me
Look at me
I'm scared into flames
And I feel there ought to be a joke round here
Somewhere
Hold onto me
Hold onto me
I'm flying into space
And I can't find anything that matters here
Nothing really matters

Flying high
Flying way too high
With nothing to hold onto
And needing nothing at all
Because everything is possible
So, let my wings glisten in the sun
For tomorrow I crash hard into the ground


                                           By Phil Roberts

Just in the pubs and clubs
******* our own gear around
Seemingly, always upstairs
For weddings and birthday parties
Sorting out miles of wires
Well-worked practise

But when those amps were turned on
With an audible amplified thud
As switches are flicked
And their lights gaze like tiny red eyes
That's when I am ready

First number and the drums and bass
Connect to create new heartbeats
And now I'm into it
Not the man in the mill anymore
I'm the frontman for the band
And the music soars through me

As the night goes on and grows
The crowd has grown and is dancing
Gaining energy from the music
And feeding it back to us in turn
Now THIS is being alive

And so it was

                                 By Phil Roberts

Dripping with gory sarcasm
The sharpest tongue cuts a dash
The house speciality is cruelty
Naturally
And so, gathered revellers
To the evening's main course
An innocent
A babe amongst blades
Who'll carve?

With glinting teeth and cutlery
Feasting on the lamb begins
An ideal from each bone that's chewed
Is spat upon the floor
And they're snatching and snarling for more
More succulent and pure
Fresh blood for the body politic
Come to the party
Who'll pour?

                                By Phil Roberts

It's midnight soon
So I'm off to bed to read
May all of your dreams
Make you smile in your sleep

                                    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
For Teresa....and the many thousands like her.

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
For Teresa....and the many thousands like her.

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

A hippy sits on the ground
Eyes glazed and idiot smile
Singing loud and proud
"Were you there when
they crucified my gourd!"
Night-eyes see as they prowl

A group of young girls passing by
Look at him and laugh out loud
All dressed in their weekend best
Bright and tightly fitting dresses
Their aim is for an older sophistication
But their unknowing youth makes them miss
And night-eyes miss none of this

Around the corner there are three guys
Too busy to even watch the girls go by
Two are hustling the one to do deals
They've got something he wants to buy
"But it's the price boys, it's the price."
They haven't  noticed the cops close by
Night eyes see all that passes in the night

"Hey baby, d'you want a little fun?"
Says the woman in the short tight skirt
"You want a date with me, hon?"
She continues her professional flirt
But she knows it's too early yet
They need drink before they pay for her dirt
But the Friday night-eyes see the hurt

                                                       By Phil Roberts

A hippy sits on the ground
Eyes glazed and idiot smile
Singing loud and proud
"Were you there when
they crucified my gourd!"
Night-eyes see as they prowl

A group of young girls passing by
Look at him and laugh out loud
All dressed in their weekend best
Bright and tightly fitting dresses
Their aim is for an older sophistication
But their unknowing youth makes them miss
And night-eyes miss none of this

Around the corner there are three guys
Too busy to even watch the girls go by
Two are hustling the one to do deals
They've got something he wants to buy
"But it's the price boys, it's the price."
They haven't  noticed the cops close by
Night eyes see all that passes in the night

"Hey baby, d'you want a little fun?"
Says the woman in the short tight skirt
"You want a date with me, hon?"
She continues her professional flirt
But she knows it's too early yet
They need drink before they pay for her dirt
But the Friday night-eyes see the hurt

                                                       By Phil Roberts

You can call me hapless,
Hopeless and feckless
All true
You can say I'm irresponsible
disrespectful and disreputable
Fair enough

But don't call me a liar
Not because I'm St Phil  of the Truth
Or because I crave purity and integrity
It's because I'm too ****** lazy
To remember what I've said
So if you think I've lied
You've read what wasn't written
You may have seen what you expected to see
And read words you thought I'd write
But it was not lies
Believe me

                        By Phil Robert

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...peuce?"
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

She cries tears of mother's ruin
"Look at me!
It's been so hard
All of my life
And I've had to fight
For my own patch of light
Still, no-one ever looks at me"

He turns his eyes to the floor
Saying nothing
Feeling stupid
And his words burst like bubbles in his mouth
He is desperate to say something
Anything to make her happy
But he cannot turn disappointment
Back into youthful optimism
Or bitterness back to hope
As she sinks into smeary sobs
Wet and bleary loss
He takes her home

He undresses her and puts her to bed
Then he holds her as she cries
And he holds her as she sleeps
He hushes her when she stirs
And calms her when she starts and cries out
When the dreams become too real
And he shall never be more than this
Never more fulfilled
Caring for her is his only purpose
Making her happy is his holy grail
Willingly trapped within her pain
He is nothing else at all

                               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

Some things are indelibly written
Where mysteries and fates dwell

                                      By Phil Roberts

Coughing like a cold start
Wheezing like a bag
Spitting through the back door
Have another ***
Doing the dying thing

Filling up an ash-tray
Feeding a fat face
Drinking cans of lager
Getting in a state
Doing the dying thing

Reading ****** papers
**** and bingo cards
Have another lager
Another pound of lard
Doing the dying thing

Sitting watching game shows
Rattling paper bags
Looking bored and farting
How the sofa sags
Doing the dying thing

Working for a *******
For very little pay
Yes boss and no boss
For eight hours a day
Doing the dying thing

Safely empty headed
Dull of thought and eye
Ignorant and vacant
There are many ways to die
Doing the dying thing

                                       By Phil Roberts

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

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

Now that I've lived all these years
And experienced so many things
With my march to Oldfartdom
On it's inexorable way
I've been thinking about the things I've learned
Perhaps to pass on to others

Well.......
It's like this
Life is wonderful
And life is ******
Love is elating
Love is devastating
Birth is a true miracle
Being a parent is scary
Money is a blessing
Whilst wealth is a curse
So......
What do I know?

                              By Phil Roberts

Narcosis wafts on the air
Pollinating the senses
Spreading dust on the years
Softening corners and edges
Disguising shapes
Until there is no point anymore
Nothing clear to be seen
But something pierced the skin

Wrecked witless and reckless
I have walked here all my days
In this land of rant and cant
Home of the brave and me
And I, the sentimental fool
Would keep the dream alive
Of gentle Wodehouse summers
And a myth of Christmas snow
Victorian values

Daylight is brighter here
So bright it laughs for joy
Dapple-dancing and doting
With no thought of cloud or rain
Not one word of unpleasant truth
No hint of hypocrisy
Here in Narcosis England
Everything is fine

                            By Phil Roberts

In this distant place
High and remote
Beyond the planet's pull
Gone for good and all
Hanging nowhere

Spacial, spacious solitude
Sounds appropriate
Cast unto shadows
Deeply unmoving
Deeply unnerving
Inertia

But within this
Atoms collide and spin
And soundless explosions
Cause panic-breaths
And splintered heartbeats

And in this distant place
Nothing happens
Nothing moves
But within...........

                       By Phil Roberts

Dripping with gory sarcasm
The sharpest tongue cuts a dash
The house speciality is cruelty
Naturally
And so, gathered revellers
To the evening's main course
An innocent
A babe amongst blades
Who'll carve?

With glinting teeth and cutlery
Feasting on the lamb begins
An ideal from each bone that's chewed
Is spat upon the floor
And they're snatching and snarling for more
More succulent and pure
Fresh blood for the body politic
Come to the party
Who'll pour?

                                By Phil Roberts

After all
They only lead to hell
Via hell on earth

                           By Phil Roberts

There is no reason or right
for the night
to own your insecurities
to marshal your killing nightmares.
The endless fall.
The leaden-legged chase.
The faceless, nameless monsters
But you know who they are.
Every restless twitch.
The over-heated bed.
Angels feathers
would not be comfortable.
Don't let it be!
Call the night into question.

                                 By Phil Roberts

She cries tears of mother's ruin
"Look at me!
It's been so hard
All of my life
And I've had to fight
For my own patch of light
Still, no-one ever looks at me"

He turns his eyes to the floor
Saying nothing
Feeling stupid
And his words burst like bubbles in his mouth
He is desperate to say something
Anything to make her happy
But he cannot turn disappointment
Back into youthful optimism
Or bitterness back to hope
As she sinks into smeary sobs
Wet and bleary loss
He takes her home

He undresses her and puts her to bed
Then he holds her as she cries
And he holds her as she sleeps
He hushes her when she stirs
And calms her when she starts and cries out
When the dreams become too real
And he shall never be more than this
Never more fulfilled
Caring for her is his only purpose
Making her happy is his holy grail
Willingly trapped within her pain
He is nothing else at all

                               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

How's the new car goin', Mickey?
It's brilliant, man
It goes like **** off a hot tin blanket!

                                                   By Phil Roberts

Now that I've lived all these years
And experienced so many things
With my march to Oldfartdom
On it's inexorable way
I've been thinking about the things I've learned
Perhaps to pass on to others

Well.......
It's like this
Life is wonderful
And life is ******
Love is elating
Love is devastating
Birth is a true miracle
Being a parent is scary
Money is a blessing
Whilst wealth is a curse
So......
What do I know?

                              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

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

This night is beyond you
Just out of control
Grins and curious eyes hit you in the face
And you are staggering again
Get to the bar and try for sanity

Don't think too much
Slow down your mind
Get another drink to soften the edges
You're asking for a gin and panic
Everyone's a stranger
And everyone knows who you are
And  everyone's talking

You've seen all this before somewhere
This is some kind of reality
And you are outside of it
No-one warned you that your words
Would be taken down as used as trivia
Don't laugh, you fool
It's not that funny

And those faces are staring again
There's a table to hold on to
Something to stop you from sinking
Keep swimming through the noise
And the smoke and the eyes
And the wet mouths
And the liquid glasses
And the moving walls
And the approaching floor

                             By Phil Roberts

Calmly
Serenely
The sun slowly subsides
From the still-starless sky
And the moon is still a ghost
A time of mystery and myth
Half-light illusions
Unusual shadows
And strange delusions
When memories and dreams
Wander from one to the other
Blend beyond relevance
And I once remembered
A memory I never had

                                       By Phil Roberts

Empty-streeted footsteps ache
A lonely echo from behind
Itching suspicious notions
Finger nails and splinters
Screeching cracked sopranos
Not quite, not quite reaching
A beat and half a beat too late

Kissing cold, kissing cold and naked
Space in blackness consumed
Awareness of the endless fall
Just below, just below your clasping toes
Listen with a stretching ear
And something coiled inside
As seconds drip slowly into eons
Smile like a wolf and carry on

                                                   By Phil Roberts

Caution?
I never quite got the hang of that
Never a gambler as such
I have been a creature of impulse and instinct
Of uncertain intent
Unknowing and unmeaning
I have created crackling static
Out of consequence and recrimination
Trying not to hurt anyone
I do right by no-one
But I cannot change my gypsy way
I have always said and will always say
I won't die wondering
I hope I will die laughing
But not today

                                             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

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

This night is beyond you
Just out of control
Grins and curious eyes hit you in the face
And you are staggering again
Get to the bar and try for sanity

Don't think too much
Slow down your mind
Get another drink to soften the edges
You're asking for a gin and panic
Everyone's a stranger
And everyone knows who you are
And  everyone's talking

You've seen all this before somewhere
This is some kind of reality
And you are outside of it
No-one warned you that your words
Would be taken down as used as trivia
Don't laugh, you fool
It's not that funny

And those faces are staring again
There's a table to hold on to
Something to stop you from sinking
Keep swimming through the noise
And the smoke and the eyes
And the wet mouths
And the liquid glasses
And the moving walls
And the approaching floor

                             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

My words and my poems
Are no more than explanations
And embellishments
My means of expression
For my life is my "art"
It's what I am and what I write
It's why I need to write
To make sense of the things
I've seen and done
And there are times when
I think I've done far too much
Then, in deep contemplation
I realise I could have done more
And that kind of inner debate
And discussion with myself
Are a large part of my life
Which becomes my version
Of something like "art"

                                         By Phil Roberts

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

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

It's midnight soon
So I'm off to bed to read
May all of your dreams
Make you smile in your sleep

                                    By Phil Roberts