have to be poetry bound like it's all you have left
to be here sending out heartbeats thoughts
nothing left to do on Saturday night
and no one to do it with
and no good times
left
but to try to make
another reader who is just
like you
but In California
or Brazil
see he or she is not alone
and when you see a plus or heart
you breathe again

I'm told that this is home, where I'm
Ignored and feel locked out;
Where I'm marginalized, I don't fit
In, a new culture -
A new generation.

Yet even the me of many yesterdays
Would disapprove of me now:

The opinionated academic who still
Says all the wrong things to all
Whom he loves.

So tell me,
What is one to do

When you don't fit in

Even with yourself?

Throughout my long life
I've been fortunate enough
To know many colourful characters
However, it's also true that
I've met lots of monochrome people too
Now, I ask you, dear reader
Knowing me as many of you do
Which do you think are my friends?

                                                By Phil Roberts

​
i was such a good little boy, right?
                  *with such potential, wasn’t that it?

​
you know something? nobody ever does anything to be nice. they always want to get something out of it.

I woke up this morning wanting to cry,
and when I called him I realised why.
Although he was honest, he spoke with a cold tongue.
I broke down in the courtyard when it came to light,
He broke every promise in the space of one night.
He made me hate this city, immediately.
I thought he was something else,
but as it turns out he was just someone else.

​
i never meant to start a war
i never meant to make you bleed
i never meant to hurt you
i never meant to start a fire
i never meant to make you cry

The long rope hung in the air
The song was playing in his head
The barrel spins, click
He heard the voice
You are in charge of your weapon, always
The day the weapon takes charge of you, is the day we find you
The song plays in his head
The barrel spins, click
He wouldn’t die
The rope shook, but he wouldn’t die
He unloaded the magazine into his head
He done the decent thing
The song played in his head
The barrel spins, click
Images started to appear
He wouldn’t sleep
The house was the fortress now
The song played in his head
The barrel spins, click
The long rope hung in the air
He watched him walk away, smiling, inviting him
Destiny
The song played in his head
The barrel spins
The song plays into the distance.