I remember
The night you said
‘I love you’

I remember
When I was too scared to say it back
I screamed and cried

I remember
I told you
No one loves a ugly girl like me

I remember
You told me to calm down
You held me in your arms

I remember
My family scared
That one night I might take my life

I remember
The night you said
‘I love you’

I remember
I said it back
I was still scared

I remember
Finding you
The perfect one who understands me

I remember
When you took my hand
Promised me that you would never leave

I remember
How you love me
And always will

Hello my friends
What do you love?
Crave? Adore?
Put above
Every motive
Every act...
You are hooked
And that's a fact!

Albert Adler wrote of this
What's YOUR bag?
What's your bliss?

POWER
ACCEPTANCE
COMFORT
CONTROL

You have a master... play a role.

If power is your greatest joy
You love your money.
Love your toys,
Then be ye girl
Or be ye boy,
You'll find that what
you most enjoy
Has the power
to DESTROY!

If acceptance is
What drives your ink,
You're all about
What people think,
You give ALL
(including kitchen sink)
If a bad comment
Makes you drink...

You may need to
Change your link!

Here's a thought
May hit the bone
Take you out o' your
"comfort zone"
You are out here all alone
'Til you believe
That Christ atoned!

Want to hold on to your fate?
Have a fear that won't abate?
It's not yet over... not too late!
You can achieve a blissful state!

This IS the TRUTH
Which I have found.
And, folks, I searched
ALL AROUND!
Until my feet hit Holy Ground
Now the GOSPEL
Is what I pound...

AND DON'T IT MAKE
A LOVELY SOUND!

You are all engaged
In a powerful thing.
It is WORSHIP!
How do YOU sing?

What you do is your own style.
But if it's your master,
Can you smile?

I'm profoundly glad

That mine's WORTHWHILE!

I move slow, sometimes plod,
Most people find me very odd
But the One I most applaud

Is a kind and loving

GOD.



SøułSurvivør
(C) 9/4/2017

I let your hands explore my chest and I pretend you're searching for my heartbeat.
Feeling how it chirps for yours, like a bird calling out to its lover in the storm.
Pretending your body's intention was to keep mine warm when your mouth was leaving kisses like small fires burning across my skin.
I didn't feel the smoke in your breathe till I was burned down,
and I blamed myself for playing with fire.
I let you whisper ***** things in my ear and pretend the sounds are still the birds, which is to say I've forgotten the sound of my own voice.
So I let you build a nest within me, forgetting that I lived here too once.
What once was does not know my own body now.
Where you touched does not know how to exist without you.
Which is to say,
Who I was then does not know greedy hands like now.
Oh how I envy the oblivion.

i'm a 30 year old male
that can't watch Forest Gump
without crying at least a dozen times.

i'm a sibling of 5
that only sees or speaks to
my siblings on holidays or family events.

i have no formal secondary degree
with stamp of approval
or specification in a field of study.

i know that cigarettes will **** me
the sun will do the same
but i enjoy those things.

i'm a 30 year old male
with no prospects of a life
or any idea of how to create one.

i only know, i am alive.

i can't stand the behavior of most people
but i love everyone, and try to forgive
because i know not their demons

i hate that i hate.
i hate that i am not as forgiving
with myself with the life that i've lived.

i think of what my life could be
outside of my life that is
and i lift away in dreams

i think of killing myself while addressing
daily responsibilities.  
moving one load of laundry to the dryer
becomes "this belt feels stressful and the buckle is harsh
upon my adams apple"

but cold nickel and leather remind me of such contrast
so cold. so warm.

i'm a 30 year old man, and i realize that age is only
significant to those that have not done so.
but i still cry at odd moments.

i'm a sibling of 5 that feels no love.
at christmas, buys the best most poignant gifts
but still forgets birthdays

i'm educated in what matters
which means it doesn't pay
and i love how poor i am.

i'm a 30 year old man.
broke. single. nearly homeless.
and i have nothing but love.

i only know, that i'm alive.

After a while you learn the subtle difference
Between holding a hand and chaining a soul,
And you learn that love doesn’t mean leaning
And company doesn’t mean security.
And you begin to learn that kisses aren’t contracts
And presents aren’t promises,
And you begin to accept your defeats
With your head up and your eyes open.
And you learn to build all your roads on today
Because tomorrow’s ground is too uncertain for plans
And futures have a way of falling down in mid-flight.
After a while you learn…
That even sunshine burns if you get too much.
So you plant your garden and decorate your own soul,
Instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers.
And you learn that you really can endure…
That you really are strong
And you really do have worth…
And you learn and learn…
With every good-bye you learn.

-JLB

Searching low and high
Open wide of heart
Clear and bright of eye
Kicking around dusty memories
And unintelligible dreams
I've missed something
And something's missing
A precious thing has left my life
A purpose for living
A reason to carry on
A glint of meaning
And a hint of heaven
I've waited and I wait
All to no avail
My inner cynic was right all along
So set a place for me in hell
I'm ready to come home

                        
                       By Phil Roberts

Shiny bricks and skeins of yellow grass
Barely perceptible colours
Hung with liquid haze
Dog **** and thunder
Heavy close and thick
Miasma
Clings to sweat
Running with drizzle
Clings to damp
Drowning the pores of the skin
Making collars clinging sticky
Rubbing and abrasive

In view of the towering flats
The greyly awaiting wait
Standing at the bus stop
Speaking quiet weather talk
In the distantly English way
So safely meaningless
This polite evasion
Ignores their damp dilemma
Soon, as they sit inside the bus
These bodies shall steam
Like cattle in a byre

Kids hang around the shops
Emptying and kicking cans
The younger ones
Run and shout manically
Their elders spit
And swear casually
All hoods and shadows
Asking adults to buy them lager
Because they can't get served at the "offie"
Rain changes nothing here

A bedroom guitar plays
Weakly electric
And the Turneresque sky
Swallows the sound whole and flat
Sophisticated trash
Crying into a cloudy breast
Shaded darkly round
Full and swollen
Grey and sodden
The distant rumbling
Tumbling closer to home

                                    By Phil Roberts

well

ironic how emotions can be turned off by one conversation

your warmness is not so warm anymore
your eyes tell me different things now
your honesty about other people is now off-putting

your existence no longer has an affect on me

i’m sorry

not for you

(for me)