You forget there's a sky above
Birds don't chirp trees are few
Gone is the hamlet that shaped your love
For a blade of grass cries the morn dew.

Mesh of wires runs over the sky
Air is thick with the reek of petrol
Scare you the trucks heavily passing by
Dazedly you search for the village of the ole.

Here was the home your soul's green abode
Where winter was cold March sprightly Spring
Your feet ran the soil not dusty metaled road
Dreams soared high on boundless wide wing.

Now all around are the townsfolk on race
Ruthless pace crushing ole hamlet's peace
But so is fated by the wheels of progress
That shows the gain more than all that you miss.

Spinal necessity exists
Between ludicrous *****
And the pulsating brain
Lumbering and slobbering
Separate from the mind
Which is tuned to distraction
Feeling every nuance
As a ricochet
For this sensitivity is not delicate
But damning and demanding

Tentative toes step around
Lightly sleeping memories
Which will bawl upon waking
Demanding delivery
Into the light of recognition
But, evading perspective
They become demonic in aspect
Causing crashes
Stamping all over corpses
Bringing them alive
And each of these ghastly debutantes
mutters softly
"Dream of me"

                                By Phil Roberts