I live in a world of words
That constantly spins around
A solar system filled with verbs
And planetary nouns

Syllables that hold me down
Like the 3 in gravity
Consonants in and out
Is the oxygen I breath

Adjectives and adverbs
My galaxy abounds
In this world I live of words
That constantly spins around

Forsaken , little brick house
Where have the children gone
Your owners are two tombstones
The yard now overgrown
No couple to make you a home
No doorbell , no holiday decorations ,
no good news on the telephone
Little brick house , you once held
love within your four sturdy walls ,
now your better days have come and gone*  ....

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

I believe there is
For it gives me strength and hope
And the will to stay
in our dream

Black smoke on the mountain
bends over the moon like flies
around rines all fed up
with the night, like a bloated
face floating by in the river
sleeping through
death's long montage,
that dark mistress sipping
gin on a balcony with no wind,
her curtains still as a blanket
placed over the drowned.