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phil roberts Jan 2016
We come as we please
And we leave on the breeze
Away........

Distance
As an image of warm blue air
The ***** man denies seditious writhings
Coming in proud bursts of creation
Irrespective of soil or culture
Bursting thirsting creation
Heathen fertility
Haphazard geography
Lust of life beyond life

Screaming gadgetry can cowards make
Tight cages can our spirits break
But love is broad and clean
Fickle and immortal
The soil from whence we came
Without permit or permission
With honour and with relish
The ***** man denies nothing
Not one word at all

And on and on
The fairground moves on
Away

                    By Phil Roberts
Lawrence Hall Dec 2018
This house is silent now, this new smart house
The storm has downed the power lines; wild rains
Against the windows beat like hungry wolves
And all house gadgetry is silent and still

And just as still: the Barnes & Noble Nook™®
The Ipod™® unsupported, the dead FitBit™®
That failed before its third Christmas day
The La Crosse(tm)® that failed before its second

And dead are all the promises that they gave:
Our silent gadgets in this cold, dark cave
Robert McKinlay Apr 2010
Ears echoing droplets
amplified overhead,
seeking attachment to skin,
running down edges,
a soft hum of gadgetry
reminding the soul of how it's spun,
electrically...
as hours toll by tower,
and languished breath
seeps down circular steps;
concrete poured within,
anguish is met by horizon,
unsure whether
night or day,
the bells ...
the bells ...
the bells....
the bells....
the bells....


http://www.robross.ca
(c) Robert W.G. Ross 2010
phil roberts Feb 2016
We come as we please
And we leave on the breeze
Away........

Distance
As an image of warm blue air
The ***** man denies seditious writhings
Coming in proud bursts of creation
Irrespective of soil or culture
Bursting thirsting creation
Heathen fertility
Haphazard geography
Lust of life beyond life

Screaming gadgetry can cowards make
Tight cages can our spirits break
But love is broad and clean
Fickle and immortal
The soil from whence we came
Without permit or permission
With honour and with relish
The ***** man denies nothing
Not one word at all

And on and on
The fairground moves on
Away

                    By Phil Roberts
not new but apt
Adelle Stone Oct 2016
Rain drops
Cookie dough
1/5
2/5
red 1/5
blue 1/5
eccentric
esoteric
bippity boppity boo
everybody clap your hands
supercalifragilisticexpialidocious
Quite atrocious
Horrid
calamity
GADGETRY
Tragedy
To Infinity, and BEYOND
This is my
Nonsensical
Whimsical
Fickle
Erratic
Lewis Carroll like
Dumbledore Approved
Because I can
Poem.
And that's that
:-)
phil roberts Nov 2016
We come as we please
And we leave on the breeze
Away........

Distance
As an image of warm blue air
The ***** man denies seditious writhings
Coming in proud bursts of creation
Irrespective of soil or culture
Bursting thirsting creation
Heathen fertility
Haphazard geography
Lust of life beyond life

Screaming gadgetry can cowards make
Tight cages can our spirits break
But love is broad and clean
Fickle and immortal
The soil from whence we came
Without permit or permission
With honour and with relish
The ***** man denies nothing
Not one word at all

And on and on
The fairground moves on
Away

                    By Phil Roberts
Actually, I'm only half gypsy.....just the restless half :)
phil roberts Jun 2017
We come as we please
And we leave on the breeze
Away........

Distance
As an image of warm blue air
The ***** man denies seditious writhings
Coming in proud bursts of creation
Irrespective of soil or culture
Bursting thirsting creation
Heathen fertility
Haphazard geography
Lust of life beyond life

Screaming gadgetry can cowards make
Tight cages can our spirits break
But love is broad and clean
Fickle and immortal
The soil from whence we came
Without permit or permission
With honour and with relish
The ***** man denies nothing
Not one word at all

And on and on
The fairground moves on
Away

                    By Phil Roberts
Matt Proctor Feb 2014
"Make as many mistakes as you can as fast as possible"
-Doc

Some kids found their rooms:
Math room pizza parties for those held in place by statistics,
four mirrored walls where the strong bodied press iron into muscle,
a tiny box for the "Special" broken off, hidden from the general population.
Those who went to the art room followed the music:
Stacks of scratched mix cds labelled with magic marker,
curated directly from fresh teenage hearts
hearts learning to become sound and paint in Doc's Art II class,
They sketch, carve, snack and chat.
The only room where students are allowed
to talk all period and pencils work to produce souls
instead of information.
There, the ineffable takes shape, in papier-mache,
macaroni or glitter.

Here are the kids who know how
to make mistakes. Perched on stools,
napping on the couch in the back,
the duds, the nerds, building things, hanging out,
shaving sculptures into their scalps. Their minds escaping
in paint-smear, light and earth, generating amorphous blobs,
new species of globule bacteria squirming across a slide of canvas,
things laid under the microscope, not for interrogation,
but for companionship. Not for scrutiny,
but for curiosity.
They reach no understanding with the world through movement
or the way the colors talk
to each other, they only reanimate the confusion into something
they can be friendly with.
Visions surface from the blank stare
of a white page.
They know how to get rid of that white;
just start getting it *****.
Eventually it begins to look like something
clean.

Nate starts new genres every class
though he plays no instrument: oi-punk, ska-core, pinhead blues.
Corban and Chip engineer robots
from their dad's junked wiper blades and orphaned gadgetry.
Quiet Jennifer looks
into the peeled aperture of her camera.
Golden Nick sketches always,
scoring every conversation with his etching.
Eyes cast aloof
from what everyone else is trained to see,
they stare into the discouraged hallucinations.
Unable to convince themselves the visions aren't there,
they exorcise them through messes of paint, wavering clay,
kilns burning mud into permanent shape. Splotched
mistakes arch gracefully into unforeseen purposes, the erroneous made integral.
What is discarded or shamed in other rooms is here followed with curiosity,
rescued and incorporated into a perfectly rendered mess
of liquid. The rejected is what is, what becomes.
Here, kids let their hearts out, casually, without explanation,
like red paint from a shiny new tube.
My heart, can't everybody see it? It's up there on the wall, collaged out of glue-stick
and diced magazine scrap.
It doesn't have to be clarified in the desperate pomp
of a poem or the insipid glitz of jazz hands. Put on the run by the logical requests
of Spanish teachers, they can relax here,
and so they are real, and so they are different.

As adults, they still use what they learned there. I watch them. They are my friends;
bartenders or line cooks or nurses or clerks, their basements cluttered
with bric-a-brac, creative purchases, bought not out of necessity,
but because they explode the room into life:
A creek painting amended with a rhinestone deer cutout,
the orange booth of a defunct bowling alley,
Happy Meal mascots leftover from obsolete Saturday mornings.
Their dens are hung with 4th grade prize-winners, Governor's Show picks,
a woodcarving of an eagle so ugly only a Mom could keep it hung
on her bathroom wall for thirty years.
Exacto knives and staedtler erasers point
from Warhol coffee cups on drafting tables,
T-Squares and light boxes are dragged through a gamut of low-rent apartments.

Maybe in the cupboard, maybe out in the garage,
a box lies closed
but not empty,
filled with crinkled tubes
of hardened oil, a palette stained
with a multifarious rash of colors,
a forest of stiffened brushes growing
from a ceramic ashtray.
Every now and then they put a record on,
pull this box out, open it
and again, with a little insistence,
the colors come flowing.
Art, Poetry, High School, Creativity, Nerds, Outcasts, Painting
Lawrence Hall Dec 2021
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com  
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

                All Power to the People’s Soviet of Gadgetry

1.

The servile arts teach us to plan
Wars for sending our children to die
Barbed wire for penning our fellow man
Computers to sneak and snoop and spy

2.

The liberal arts teach us to ask

                                                  Why?
"He has a mind of metal and wheels, and does not care for growing things."

-Treebeard speaking of Sarumen in THE TWO TOWERS
phil roberts Apr 2016
We come as we please
And we leave on the breeze
Away........

Distance
As an image of warm blue air
The ***** man denies seditious writhings
Coming in proud bursts of creation
Irrespective of soil or culture
Bursting thirsting creation
Heathen fertility
Haphazard geography
Lust of life beyond life

Screaming gadgetry can cowards make
Tight cages can our spirits break
But love is broad and clean
Fickle and immortal
The soil from whence we came
Without permit or permission
With honour and with relish
The ***** man denies nothing
Not one word at all

And on and on
The fairground moves on
Away

                    By Phil Roberts
Damian Murphy Mar 2016
I am one very lucky Son of a Gun,
one of the worlds privileged few,
For I happen to be an Irish Mammies son;
An absolute blessing it is true!
She treats me like I am the “Chosen One”,
my Da thinks the whole thing is a farce!
She is absolutely convinced that the sun
shines out of her darling sons ****!
She tells everyone I am her pride and joy,
about all the happiness I bring,
Tells me I will always be her baby boy;
She treats me just like a king

For in her eyes I can do no wrong,
It has been that way from the start,
I have no choice but to play along,
I would not like to break her heart!
She will not hear a bad word said about me,
She always leaps to my defence!
When she looks at me all she can see
Is a true picture of innocence!
Should I ever get into any difficulty
(Obviously through no fault of my own),
My Ma is quick to sort it out for me
taking my problems on as her own.

I never have to do one thing
because she does everything for me'
Cooking and laundry and ironing
Almost anything really!
Though sometimes she loses her patience
(It happens, but very rarely),
it’s never long ‘til she sees some sense;
gets it done after apologising to me.
She is always picking up after me,
(how does my stuff end up on the ground)
but she always does it so quietly,
never wakes me, I don’t hear a sound.

I would help if she would let me,
That would be really immense!
But she takes her role of mother so seriously,
I would not like to cause her any offence!
Now I am not one to put on a poor mouth,
but can’t always afford the latest gadgetry.
But my Ma really hates to see me go without
and always ends up buying it for me.
She is forever handing me money,
tells me to go out and have some craic.
Gets me to swear an oath of secrecy
and will hear no talk of me paying her back!

My breakfast ready each morning,
a packed lunch and everything!
My dinner on the table every evening;
she will not see me want for a single thing!
Every single day she makes my bed,
Leaves my room absolutely spotless!
“You need somewhere nice to lay your head”
she says, “I will not have you sleep in that mess”.
She always tells me to have the lads over,
she likes to see me have a good party
The following day should I have a hangover
she is always especially good to me!

She vets every one of my girlfriends
which I think is really quite nice,
Any of those whom she thinks offends
get dumped by me in a thrice!
She tells me I should not worry;
That I really am quite a catch!
Tells me I need not be in any hurry,
How important it is to find the right match!
No one so far has been good enough for me,
she has not approved of a single one yet!
She says any woman should be glad to have me
but those so far she says, seemed so desperate!

Now some accuse me of taking advantage;
I do not know what all the fuss is about!
As far as I know there is no definite age
when a son should have to move out!
It is getting to the point where I know I should,
but for my Ma it will be a terrible blow,
and honestly if you had it half as good;
Would you be in any hurry to go?
I know it cannot stay like this forever,
one day I will have to move out and marry!
But it’s impossible to see how I will ever...
find a woman half as good as my Mammy!
All hail Irish Mammies!!
Ronald D Lanor Dec 2012
Money is a catastrophe
nothing but pure blasphemy.
People of the world
living in a state of atrophy.

Pardon all my apathy
for those who live too happily
but where are all the consequences
for their rude audacity?

We don’t need the pageantry
of all our fancy gadgetry.
Find it down in yourself
the reasons to dispatch of thee.

You want to sit and laugh at me
cause I live by frugality?
Money shouldn’t make us tick
and that’s the harsh reality.
phil roberts Nov 2017
We come as we please
And we leave on the breeze
Away........

Distance
As an image of warm blue air
The ***** man denies seditious writhings
Coming in proud bursts of creation
Irrespective of soil or culture
Bursting thirsting creation
Heathen fertility
Haphazard geography
Lust of life beyond life

Screaming gadgetry can cowards make
Tight cages can our spirits break
But love is broad and clean
Fickle and immortal
The soil from whence we came
Without permit or permission
With honour and with relish
The ***** man denies nothing
Not one word at all

And on and on
The fairground moves on
Away

                    By Phil Roberts
Jack Savage Apr 2013
I am barely human
My eyes twitch alike gadgetry
The light that perpetually stimulated,
Lost

The distance to my feet is immense
And unmeasurable
I am not one with me
As I am not one with them

I feel steam release through my legs,
Pushing me
Further amidst this unnaturally familiar space
My arms  fly with precise grace
Leading the wind behind them

I feel amused
The falling of petals fleeting to the floor,
Of a woodland maze
I systemically process the trajectory
Darting my hand about them
Dancing with the leaves in mathematical ceremony
However resilient to such harmony

My mind is an equation I cannot fathom
Dwelling on its probability,
Hinders the very life of me

I can't be human,
You all look the same
I will forever be different.
phil roberts Jul 2015
We come as we please
And we leave on the breeze
Away........

Distance
As an image of warm blue air
The ***** man denies seditious writhings
Coming in proud bursts of creation
Irrespective of soil or culture
Bursting thirsting creation
Heathen fertility
Haphazard geography
Lust of life beyond life

Screaming gadgetry can cowards make
Tight cages can our spirits break
But love is broad and clean
Fickle and immortal
The soil from whence we came
Without permit or permission
With honour and with relish
The ***** man denies nothing
Not one word at all

And on and on
The fairground moves on
Away

                    By Phil Roberts
PJ Poesy Mar 2016
So you're the one
who paints all the frowns
on the sad clowns
Circus life does have strife
and roasted peanuts by the pound

So you're tired of nuts
and cleaning up elephant dung
Pity, you were once
a real class act

Now reduced to ticket sales
and fame unsung

Your high wire act
turned into catastrophe
Your partner slipped through
your arms into rhapsody
No gadgetry in this galaxy
could save this fantasy

Y
o
u

h
a
v
e

n
o

n
e
t

t
o

f
a
l
l

o
n

Till    y­ou                                                 'round!
                      turn                        back
  ­                              that frown
I really did work in the circus, a most wonderfully bizarre circus. I was the emcee/janitor and had the name Erato. It was all the invention of a genius madman by the name Frank Garvey. If you'd like to learn more visit: http://www.sfgate.com/news/article/OMNICIRCUS-Robotic-theater-s-army-of-darkness-3273901.php
phil roberts Oct 2016
We come as we please
And we leave on the breeze
Away........

Distance
As an image of warm blue air
The ***** man denies seditious writhings
Coming in proud bursts of creation
Irrespective of soil or culture
Bursting thirsting creation
Heathen fertility
Haphazard geography
Lust of life beyond life

Screaming gadgetry can cowards make
Tight cages can our spirits break
But love is broad and clean
Fickle and immortal
The soil from whence we came
Without permit or permission
With honour and with relish
The ***** man denies nothing
Not one word at all

And on and on
The fairground moves on
Away

                    By Phil Roberts
phil roberts Feb 2017
We come as we please
And we leave on the breeze
Away........

Distance
As an image of warm blue air
The ***** man denies seditious writhings
Coming in proud bursts of creation
Irrespective of soil or culture
Bursting thirsting creation
Heathen fertility
Haphazard geography
Lust of life beyond life

Screaming gadgetry can cowards make
Tight cages can our spirits break
But love is broad and clean
Fickle and immortal
The soil from whence we came
Without permit or permission
With honour and with relish
The ***** man denies nothing
Not one word at all

And on and on
The fairground moves on
Away

                    By Phil Roberts
Formerly "Gypsy Heritage"
phil roberts Jun 2016
We come as we please
And we leave on the breeze
Away........

Distance
As an image of warm blue air
The ***** man denies seditious writhings
Coming in proud bursts of creation
Irrespective of soil or culture
Bursting thirsting creation
Heathen fertility
Haphazard geography
Lust of life beyond life

Screaming gadgetry can cowards make
Tight cages can our spirits break
But love is broad and clean
Fickle and immortal
The soil from whence we came
Without permit or permission
With honour and with relish
The ***** man denies nothing
Not one word at all

And on and on
The fairground moves on
Away

                    By Phil Roberts
Previously known as Heritage of the Gypsy
Jayantee Khare Oct 2017
The generation of new century
born with the luxuries.
Less responsibilities
knowing no boundaries!

Blurred is your vision
staring into the gadgetry,
Draining the life force
making you fidgety!

Nature heals and
has beauty abound,
Brings happiness immense,
don't be nightclub party bound!

The happy moments
in life you miss,
When stuck in
messy relationships!

Quick pleasures
can be catchy,
Helping, supporting elders
is all worthy!

With siblings, cousins
learn to make merry,
Celebrate life
with the family!

Messed up life
is not the end of all,
A bright future
stands tall!

Live life to the fullest
but remember the values.
Sometimes, put yourself
in your parents shoes!

Their cherished dream
You have to touch the sky,
Don't stuck in past
you have to fly high!
A debate on some news site's fb post is on.
Many youngsters slammed me when i posted a comment on that post. I have been little traditional in thinking. I suggested a balance between freedom and university rules. Many youngsters didn't like it. The kinda freedom they want may lead them in trouble and regretful future.
It was thought provoking for me. I was shaken from inside to see the new gen kids.
I maybe wrong at present but it's the safe approach.
Out there in the gadgetry of space lies truth unspoken
as a robonaut delivers with precision dexterous air tasks
we  dreamers await  spacefaring races by God's millennium
and explore the starlit mysteries of the great beyond

With futuristic discoveries will scientists find evidence
of alien civilizations or will they find just a Universal void
from the footage of a comet to journeys towards the Sun
we never tire of searching out galaxies and their mysteries

Up there in the great unknown space stations ready for dock
it is a privileged place of research surrounded by innovation
studies of movements and relative positions of celestial objects
tell us so much about the inner mechanisms, of outer space

If God is eternal then space  is a sky light carousel, a perpetual room
of wonder, that carries particles of light dispersed across the moon.

— The End —