an anticipation hit me
in dim lit periphery
a darker sky swathed out
over a sea
set off so tender
stroking the reef
white light hung so low
a wash of pale and navy
poured onto lush green
as he leaned in to kiss me

if the ******* could be so easy
if we were caught in such a dreamy scene
carried ashore by the cling
of his hands wandering
sailing with the sting
and like the hacking and the coughing
when out of lungs came pouring
every unsaid thing
sand soaking up the drippings

I was perched on the cliff side
sent to stoke some man's eye
took the body but not the mind
wracking the shell I sleep inside
to test the careen on different tides
air under feet as the moon hung high
bargained for a swift crack on the collide

the subtle heat death

of the universe

the slow, soft burning of all things

and in every man

lies something worse

and only after you've been burned

does anything start to hurt

You can put me
in the ground.

You can surely do that.

If you have hands,
sure

and a knife, yes.

a gun, of course.

or,
i don't know..

run me down
with your car

toss me in
a vat of acid

or maybe
train your
Lioness

to maul me

and

to eat me.

you could get inventive with it.
inventiveness is good
i'd adore you for that.

or,

well..

i'd say,
make it
an old fashioned
kind of affair.

swing a shovel
well into my head
and bury me
where i lie.

you'll want a shovel.
yes you will.
your hands,
they're ***** enough already,
i'd say.

and,
it's an awful lot of work-
those graves.

can't make em too shallow.
you don't want to hang.
cuz they'll find you.
and they'll hang you.
they can't dig enough graves
when they forge for themselves
the RIGHT to do so.

...above ground cemetery...

They make Junkyards
out of neighbors.
strangers..

-anyone..

..anyone they can CATCH!
that they can get
enough sets of HANDS on
to hold down.

To judge.

With the collective mind
of the many-headed-beast.

and you're one of the moving pieces
in that swarm of hate..

..that frenzy of Blood-thirst.

that Madness of Zombies...

You are a vital *****.
I've seen how you Pulse,
like the red in your eyes..

and,
so,

my friend.
my enemy.
I tell you this:

You can bury me,
i'll allow it.
I might flinch.
I might scream.
The body is involuntary.
It's a shaky contraption.
And you can bury it,
however you want,
but you can not **** me..

THAT....you can not do.

No matter how much you might hunger for it.

No matter
what DEVIL
your name may be.

You can not **** the Heart
which beats outside of this body.

You can not **** the Heart
which beats beyond this world.

In the night somewhere
A baby cries
And somewhere else
Lovers sigh
And as time passes
An old man dies

Somewhere out in space
A planet turns
And light years away
A star sun burns
Making us merely dust
And no-one learns

                                 By Phil Roberts

an ode to a dance of symbols
to the tangle of the esoterist's threads
and a cacophony of voices bumping heads
as they bustle under the table
and knock the loosened legs
to fall south side to the dregs
wine whiter than the wiser's robes
spills and spreads like soft seafoam