Nobody seems to listen
And nobody seems to care
All these words I’ve written
This nakedness I've bared

Still I continue to write
Like a scribe whose kingdom’s come
The words of a poet
Are never said and done

To live with bitter madness
To reconcile with past
To dodge the angry arrow
Is a poets unconscious task...

Still these words keep coming
Like a fool without a cause
An annual case of writer’s block
Dictates my only pause

Perfect is the world we seek
On the wings of trust we embrace the flight
Dark are the waters we drown in
As we hold on to love with all our might

Perhaps I’m but a beacon
In a storm that will never cease
Anchored to this ocean
By a soul that’s never free

She screams
You keep quiet
She begs
Your mouth still shuts
She cries
Your lips are sealed
Now she's quiet
The silence
You can't help but wonder
Maybe, just maybe,
If only you had opened up your mouth
and said something
Instead of keeping it mute
She might still be alive today.

G.A

In this very moment
I am free
I no longer regret
the past nor obsess
about the future

Today is a gift
A free gift
I get to keep by
giving it away

A Bottle Full Of Whiskey

He used a bottle full of whiskey
To dull the memories of his past
Knowing that the pain he felt
Would not fit into a glass

As he set there on his barstool
In his eyes I saw regret
He talked about the life he lived
How he wished he had it back

Would drink straight from the bottle
Just to make the numbness last
The story of his lonely life
He would tell to all who ask

He talked about lifes lessons
The mistakes that he had made
Said he lived with regrets
For things he cannot change

Thought the view from the bottle
Would help to make his life more clear
But the bottle got the best of him
And wasted all his years

He used a bottle full of whiskey
To dull the memories of his past
Knowing that the pain he felt
Would not fit into a glass

Carl Joseph Roberts

I stopped
inside a light house
on a dark and foggy night
and in the beacon
in the fog
I saw far too many sights.

Lovers lost in their pasts
uncompleted tasks
of shoulda coulda wouldas
"If only's"
blocking their
paths.

The ferrel human beings
with eyes of gold
but no money
to buy a room
running to nowhere soon.

The poetry outlaws
with no words
left to sing
lost within their prisons
and know one knows
what they mean.

The beacon flashed
and in the light
I saw those
trapped in drudgery
and fading dreams
of being free.

And lonely souls
in darkened rooms
of four white walls
with no where to go
and no one coming that they know.

The beacon flashed
in that fog
the horn it rang
to no one listening
but the ships lost at sea
heard something
but asked themselves
was it really meant for me?

It
Spotlighted lovers
on the far sides
of the bed
their love lost
in what is now
misery and dread.

Wage slaves breathing toxic air
and what's this life for
their breath asks
captured in the foggy air.

Stopped at that lighthouse
to look out at that foggy sea
was all about the poetry
and what it means to me
a light
on a foggy
populated sea
and
life told in scenes
about
those who struggle to be free.