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Dave Robertson Aug 2021
There are tough days
too much in the way days
heavy in the soul days
no feeling of control days
no clear thought days
no witty retort days
my body is a mess days
where do I confess days
******* in the mirror days
too much to consider days
what if I’d have done that days
where is all the fun at days
picking at the scab days
checking in to rehab days
the I’m no good to anyone days
someone should just shoot me days
there are
but they are days the same as all
and though they may come thick and fast
they fall
so stay x
Dave Robertson Aug 2021
I drove a raised road
which gave a view of fields
much different to home
though mere miles away
vast, dark-rich soil potential
where words couldn’t fail to grow
but in a syntax not my own

There, the syllables of rushes stood clear
arrogant, apparent
with no lost edges or liminal blur
where I would speak my words

Heading back, a driveway sign said:
ROSES, BEANS
and now, at home
I’m lost to what that means
Dave Robertson Aug 2021
I love you

from a tickle to a thrum

a bothered everything for now

for now is a time indeed

same as others gone

and others still to be
Dave Robertson Aug 2021
Bubbling in summer’s bouillon
my vegetal notes abound
leaf and fruit under glass
swell quick but threaten

as a base for my tin *** stews
it’ll do in a pinch
but I already yearn
for the inching roots and tubers
colder autumn brings
when sweats are chosen
and frost rimes
glamourise my grin
Dave Robertson Aug 2021
I think I know my breadths and depths
but the steps of these incandescent souls,
those that have given their whole
to muscle memory,
contusions, cuts and late night
doubt filled miseries
just to fight themselves,
podium or not,
teaches me that what I’ve got,
we’ve got,
is just unknown
Dave Robertson Aug 2021
The bull necked man
with a single thought
could only muster one retort
“****” he said
and a million Wildean thoughts
cascaded in my head
and ultimately I said
nothing
Dave Robertson Aug 2021
Tell me you see ice cream,
cold British beaches, amber filtered
hanging bright buckets and spades
and pebbles and sand
tight lanes through time lost green fields
with only hedges passing judgement
tell me you see *****
(the good kind)
and flabby dad *** abs
that remember the potency of other times
tell me you see the sea
tell me you see me there
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