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

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

I live on the Hurdsfield Estate
To the north-east of town
Set on the edge of the countryside
And at the foot of the hills
It's idyllic in many ways
But with a character of it's own

For a start there's the H.A.T.
Which stands for
The Hurdsfield Assault Team
Which has existed for generations
With sons following fathers
They see themselves as protectors
Of the place where they live

There was one memorable instant
When two policemen entered the flats
To arrest someone several floors up
The H.A.T. boys gathered around
The unattended cop car
Whilst someone blocked the lift
They bounced and bounced that car
Until they turned it on it's roof

Now, I don't know if this is true
But it's said that Santa won't come here
Apparently, the last time he did
Before he got back up the first chimney
His sleigh was on bricks
And half the estate were eating venison
But as I said
That's just what I heard

                                   By Phil Roberts

I live on the Hurdsfield Estate
To the north-east of town
Set on the edge of the countryside
And at the foot of the hills
It's idyllic in many ways
But with a character of it's own

For a start there's the H.A.T.
Which stands for
The Hurdsfield Assault Team
Which has existed for generations
With sons following fathers
They see themselves as protectors
Of the place where they live

There was one memorable instant
When two policemen entered the flats
To arrest someone several floors up
The H.A.T. boys gathered around
The unattended cop car
Whilst someone blocked the lift
They bounced and bounced that car
Until they turned it on it's roof

Now, I don't know if this is true
But it's said that Santa won't come here
Apparently, the last time he did
Before he got back up the first chimney
His sleigh was on bricks
And half the estate were eating venison
But as I said
That's just what I heard

                                   By Phil Roberts

I live on the Hurdsfield Estate
To the north-east of town
Set on the edge of the countryside
And at the foot of the hills
It's idyllic in many ways
But with a character of it's own

For a start there's the H.A.T.
Which stands for
The Hurdsfield Assault Team
Which has existed for generations
With sons following fathers
They see themselves as protectors
Of the place where they live

There was one memorable instant
When two policemen entered the flats
To arrest someone several floors up
The H.A.T. boys gathered around
The unattended cop car
Whilst someone blocked the lift
They bounced and bounced that car
Until they turned it on it's roof

Now, I don't know if this is true
But it's said that Santa won't come here
Apparently, the last time he did
Before he got back up the first chimney
His sleigh was on bricks
And half the estate were eating venison
But as I said
That's just what I heard

                                   By Phil Roberts

I live on the Hurdsfield Estate
To the north-east of town
Set on the edge of the countryside
And at the foot of the hills
It's idyllic in many ways
But with a character of it's own

For a start there's the H.A.T.
Which stands for
The Hurdsfield Assault Team
Which has existed for generations
With sons following fathers
They see themselves as protectors
Of the place where they live

There was one memorable instant
When two policemen entered the flats
To arrest someone several floors up
The H.A.T. boys gathered around
The unattended cop car
Whilst someone blocked the lift
They bounced and bounced that car
Until they turned it on it's roof

Now, I don't know if this is true
But it's said that Santa won't come here
Apparently, the last time he did
Before he got back up the first chimney
His sleigh was on bricks
And half the estate were eating venison
But as I said
That's just what I heard

                                   By Phil Roberts

I stare into the distance
And see nothing
Only the pictures behind my eyes
Images of faces and places
People and towns I'll never see again
Why revisit the empty past?
Memories still linger
But there is no place for regrets
So now that I am too tired to try
And my eyes are too dry to cry
I don't care anymore
When innocents are blown out of the sky
And Parisian walkways run with blood
What does any of it matter?

                                     By Phil Roberts

I stare into the distance
And see nothing
Only the pictures behind my eyes
Images of faces and places
People and towns I'll never see again
Why revisit the empty past?
Memories still linger
But there is no place for regrets
So now that I am too tired to try
And my eyes are too dry to cry
I don't care anymore
When innocents are blown out of the sky
And Parisian walkways run with blood
What does any of it matter?

                                     By Phil Roberts

I fell
out of a dream
and I'm still falling

                           By Phil Roberts

If ever
I get too old to laugh
**** me

                   By Phil Roberts

Tripping over words of trust
Crawling backwards
Breathing dust
Mingling with the mental rust
Well, if I must
Then I must

I'll march right through the gates of hell
Me and satan
Playing show and tell
The sulphur
And the smell
Yes it smells

Yes I'll crawl through the deepest slime
However hard it is
I'll keep  on trying
But there's an end to the line
And there's a limit to my time
See,  I'm running out of time

                                  By Phil Roberts

Tripping over words of trust
Crawling backwards
Breathing dust
Mingling with the mental rust
Well, if I must
If I must

I'll march right through the gates of hell
Me and satan
Playing show and tell
The sulphur
And the smell
Yes it smells

I'll crawl through the deepest slime
However hard
I'll keep trying
But there's an end to the line
So don't waste my time
I'm running out of time

                                  By Phil Roberts

Tripping over words of trust
Crawling backwards
Breathing dust
Mingling with the mental rust
Well, if I must
Then I must

I'll march right through the gates of hell
Me and satan
Playing show and tell
The sulphur
And the smell
Yes it smells

Yes I'll crawl through the deepest slime
However hard it is
I'll keep  on trying
But there's an end to the line
And there's a limit to my time
I'm running out of time

                                  By Phil Roberts

It's definitely still in here
Though I've not seen it for a while
It'll be in a corner somewhere
Where the light doesn't reach
But I never did get rid of it
Though I've done nothing
As a result of it lately
The thing is still integral
To my living reality
The wildness within me
Has never left
It's in a corner somewhere

                                           By Phil Roberts

After all
They only lead to hell
Via hell on earth

                           By Phil Roberts

There's a quiet murmuration
Of figments of my imagination
Dreams and broken notions
Feelings and emotions
Swirling and rearranging
Into ever-changing shapes in my mind

There are absent gods and howling dogs
And the broken backs of the poor
While jugglers perform tricks with wealth
As nobody seems to care anymore
Amidst marching boots as children shoot
And hope lies dead on the floor

There seems to be a ghost somewhere
Wandering high in purple mountains
And low in deep green valleys
And this roaming soul may well be
A kind of long lost truth
Inside my hidden mind

                               By Phil Roberts

There's a quiet murmuration
Of figments of my imagination
Dreams and broken notions
Feelings and emotions
Swirling and rearranging
Into ever-changing shapes in my mind

There are absent gods and howling dogs
And the broken backs of the poor
While jugglers perform tricks with wealth
As nobody seems to care anymore
Amidst marching boots as children shoot
And hope lies dead on the floor

There seems to be a ghost somewhere
Wandering high in purple mountains
And low in deep green valleys
And this roaming soul may well be
A kind of long lost truth
Inside my hidden mind

                               By Phil Roberts

There's a quiet murmuration
Of figments of my imagination
Dreams and broken notions
Feelings and emotions
Swirling and rearranging
Into ever-changing shapes in my mind

There are absent gods and howling dogs
And the broken backs of the poor
While jugglers perform tricks with wealth
As nobody seems to care anymore
Amidst marching boots as children shoot
And hope lies dead on the floor

There seems to be a ghost somewhere
Wandering high in purple mountains
And low in deep green valleys
And this roaming soul may well be
A kind of long lost truth
Inside my hidden mind

                               By Phil Roberts

There's a quiet murmuration
Of figments of my imagination
Dreams and broken notions
Feelings and emotions
Swirling and rearranging
Into ever-changing shapes in my mind

There are absent gods and howling dogs
And the broken backs of the poor
While jugglers perform tricks with wealth
As nobody seems to care anymore
Amidst marching boots as children shoot
And hope lies dead on the floor

There seems to be a ghost somewhere
Wandering high in purple mountains
And low in deep green valleys
And this roaming soul may well be
A kind of long lost truth
Inside my hidden mind

                               By Phil Roberts

The only place left to go
Is inside my head
And thereby
Out of this world

                          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

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

Spinal necessity exists
Between ludicrous *****
And the pulsating brain
Lumbering and slobbering
Separate from the mind
Which is tuned to distraction
Feeling every nuance
As a ricochet
For this sensitivity is not delicate
But damning and demanding

Tentative toes step around
Lightly sleeping memories
Which will bawl upon waking
Demanding delivery
Into the light of recognition
But, evading perspective
They become demonic in aspect
Causing crashes
Stamping all over corpses
Bringing them alive
And each of these ghastly debutantes
mutters softly
"Dream of me"

                                By Phil Roberts

Spinal necessity exists
Between ludicrous *****
And the pulsating brain
Lumbering and slobbering
Separate from the mind
Which is tuned to distraction
Feeling every nuance
As a ricochet
For this sensitivity is not delicate
But damning and demanding

Tentative toes step around
Lightly sleeping memories
Which will bawl upon waking
Demanding delivery
Into the light of recognition
But, evading perspective
They become demonic in aspect
Causing crashes
Stamping all over corpses
Bringing them alive
And each of these ghastly debutantes
mutters softly
"Dream of me"

                                By Phil Roberts

Spinal necessity exists
Between ludicrous *****
And the pulsating brain
Lumbering and slobbering
Separate from the mind
Which is tuned to distraction
Feeling every nuance
As a ricochet
For this sensitivity is not delicate
But damning and demanding

Tentative toes step around
Lightly sleeping memories
Which will bawl upon waking
Demanding delivery
Into the light of recognition
But, evading perspective
They become demonic in aspect
Causing crashes
Stamping all over corpses
Bringing them alive
And each of these ghastly debutantes
mutters softly
"Dream of me"

                                By Phil Roberts

Spinal necessity exists
Between ludicrous *****
And the pulsating brain
Lumbering and slobbering
Separate from the mind
Which is tuned to distraction
Feeling every nuance
As a ricochet
For this sensitivity is not delicate
But damning and demanding

Tentative toes step around
Lightly sleeping memories
Which will bawl upon waking
Demanding delivery
Into the light of recognition
But, evading perspective
They become demonic in aspect
Causing crashes
Stamping all over corpses
Bringing them alive
And each of these ghastly debutantes
mutters softly
"Dream of me"

                                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

Did you take your soul to a land
Where those with hope do not linger
And apprenticeships have been served
With cuts and broken fingers

Oh these days of hardships swell
Cries the mother with howling baby
Who would care and who would dare
To risk their spare change lately

And now you walk on broken stones
With your feet wrapped in newspapers
But they say it's alternative news
Perhaps you'll learn the truth later

So is this the place your soul should be
In this land of hate and anger
Where you would place your fragile fate
In the hands of a stranger

He may be God he may be not
He could be a fallen angel
In this land of decay and rot
Who would trust a stranger

                                           By Phil Roberts

Did you take your soul to a land
Where those with hope do not linger
And apprenticeships have been served
With cuts and broken fingers

Oh these days of hardships swell
Cries the mother with howling baby
Who would care and who would dare
To risk their spare change lately

And now you walk on broken stones
With your feet wrapped in newspapers
But they say it's alternative news
Perhaps you'll learn the truth later

So is this the place your soul should be
In this land of hate and anger
Where you would place your fragile fate
In the hands of a stranger

He may be God he may be not
He could be a fallen angel
In this land of decay and rot
Who would trust a stranger

                                           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

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

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

If something needs to be said
Don't let it stagnate in your head
Don't chew your lips or bite your tongue
Just sing it out 'till your song is sung
It may end in love or even a fight
But at least you'll know the truth in the light

                                   By Phil Roberts

If something needs to be said
Don't let it stagnate in your head
Don't chew your lips or bite your tongue
Just sing it out 'till your song is sung
It may end in love or even a fight
But at least you'll know the truth in the light

                                   By Phil Roberts

If something needs to be said
Don't let it stagnate in your head
Don't chew your lips or bite your tongue
Just sing it out 'till your song is sung
It may end in love or even a fight
But at least you'll know the truth in the light

                                   By Phil Roberts

If something needs to be said
Don't let it stagnate in your head
Don't chew your lips or bite your tongue
Just sing it out 'till your song is sung
It may end in love or even a fight
But the truth will be known in the light

                                   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

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

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

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 blood ran hot and fast
And my lungs were still full bore
With limbs as supple as water
And joints that never ached
My body could be relied upon
For the rigours of life and more
I had muscles that were hard
And other things as well
I could see without wearing glasses
And the mills hadn't ruined my ears
Throughout those happy years
It never occurred to me
That it wouldn't stay that way

                          By Phil Roberts

It seems to me
There's no reason to be
Now I'm too old
To be as bold
As I used to be

My legs are weak
And I can hardly sleep
My race is run
When it comes to fun
Now I've begun
To think too deep
:/

                       By Phil Roberts

Edges of shadows
In the corners of eyes
Too fast to see
It might be me

Is it true
What you see?
Is it real?
Is it really me?

You do not hear my voice
Or know the colour of my eyes
You would not know me in the street
Or recognise my accent
Should we meet

And yet
You have seen my soul
In the words I write
And even the spaces between them

Those who care to look
Can know my story
My frailties
My vulnerabilities
My reality

This may be my curse
And my gift to you
Whatever it may be
You know that it is true

                                   By Phil Roberts

Edges of shadows
In the corners of eyes
Too fast to see
It might be me

Is it true
What you see?
Is it real?
Is it really me?

You do not hear my voice
Or know the colour of my eyes
You would not know me in the street
Or recognise my accent
Should we meet

And yet
You have seen my soul
In the words I write
And even the spaces between them

Those who care to look
Can know my story
My frailties
My vulnerabilities
My reality

This may be my curse
And my gift to you
Whatever it may be
You know that it is true

                                   By Phil Roberts

Edges of shadows
In the corners of eyes
Too fast to see
It might be me

Is it true
What you see?
Is it real?
Is it really me?

You do not hear my voice
Or know the colour of my eyes
You would not know me in the street
Or recognise my accent
Should we meet

And yet
You have seen my soul
In the words I write
And even the spaces between them

Those who care to look
Can know my story
My frailties
My vulnerabilities
My reality

This may be my curse
And my gift to you
Whatever it may be
You know that it is true

                                   By Phil Roberts

Is it possible
to care too much?
Even when
pieces of hope fall away
like parts of a derelict house,
yet belief endures.
Outside logic's doors
deep within
the heart and soul
I swear, beyond the grave.
And so it is no.
It's not possible
to care too much.

                             By Phil Roberts

It was a Thursday night
As dull as mud
And the guy I was with
Was as much fun as a broken tv
Then this bloke came into the bar
Who knew my companion
And came to join us
He said to our mutual friend,
"Eyup, Brooksy.
D'yer fancy gettin' ******?"
Brooksy sat there moaning
With a face like a slapped ****
"Nah...I'm workin' in the morniin'"
I, who was also working next day
Said, "I'll get ****** with yer."
And a lasting friendship was born

Now, my mate and me
Both needed the kind of friend
Who would calmly say
"Now hang on....that's not clever."
But instead we were both the sort
That said, "Yea, let's do it.
It'll be a laugh!"
Which led to dubious adventures
Sometimes things got dangerous
And others just plain daft
But I have to say, on the whole
It usually was a laugh

                                      By Phil Roberts

It was a Thursday night
As dull as mud
And the guy I was with
Was as much fun as a broken tv
Then this bloke came into the bar
Who knew my companion
And came to join us
He said to our mutual friend,
"Eyup, Brooksy.
D'yer fancy gettin' ******?"
Brooksy sat there moaning
With a face like a slapped ****
"Nah...I'm workin' in the morniin'"
I, who was also working next day
Said, "I'll get ****** with yer."
And a lasting friendship was born

Now, my mate and I
Both needed the kind of friend
Who would calmly say
"Now hang on....that's not clever."
But instead we were both the sort
That said, "Yea, let's do it.
It'll be a laugh!"
Which led to dubious adventures
Sometimes things got dangerous
And others just plain daft
But I have to say, on the whole
It usually was a laugh

                                      By Phil Roberts

It was a Thursday night
As dull as mud
And the guy I was with
Was as much fun as a broken tv
Then this bloke came into the bar
Who knew my companion
And came to join us
He said to our mutual friend,
"Eyup, Brooksy.
D'yer fancy gettin' ******?"
Brooksy sat there moaning
With a face like a slapped ****
"Nah...I'm workin' in the morniin'"
I, who was also working next day
Said, "I'll get ****** with yer."
And a lasting friendship was born

Now, my mate and me
Both needed the kind of friend
Who would calmly say
"Now hang on....that's not clever."
But instead we were both the sort
That said, "Yea, let's do it.
It'll be a laugh!"
Which led to dubious adventures
Sometimes things got dangerous
And others just plain daft
But I have to say, on the whole
It usually was a laugh

                                      By Phil Roberts

(to be read with slurred speech)

HEEEEEEEY!!!!
How the hell are ya?
Good to see ya again
:D
Listen, right...
I been thinkin' 'bout love
And there are two I was going to talk about
One who wants to leave her hubby for me
And one who turns up to ****** torment me
But I can't be arsed
Sooooooo
I'll drink and smoke myself to oblivion
And to **** with 'em all

                                  By Phil Roberts