lord
i
dip
my brush
into
this
can of paint
to
paint
the world
that
ain't

The book of love
Have only one page
Into  one page
There is a name
That  name is love

I was once called
A communist, a fascist and an anarchist
All in one sentence
Which I thought was quite impressive
And this was because I was a union man
My fellow workers elected me to represent them
In our dealings with management
I was involved in negotiations
About the application of regulations
And other tedious vexations
And on rare occasions
I led disputes and even strikes
And, over the years
I helped to save many jobs
Not numbers
But peoples' livelihoods
Some will say I was a rabble-rouser
An agitator
Some can say as they like
All I ever did
Was stand up for the underdog
And I hope I always will

                                   By Phil Roberts

Dusty dreams clutter my mind
And my past litters the present,
Crippling the slender future.
I walk in the shadow of rumours
And uncomfortable truths
Follow me doggedly
But I refuse to lie
Or hide who or what I am.
I ask no forgiveness for how I've lived
Nor do I seek salvation
Because the truth is, you see
I've had a ball!
And if I'm ******
I'm ****** if I care

                                 By Phil Roberts

The comedian starts off with
"Ladies and gentlemen,
It's wonderful to be here in downtown Telford..."
Enid in the audience says, " Ew, I don't like his
shirt. What colour would you call that...puce?"
Edna says, " Looks more like puke to me."
Giggle giggle giggle

The comedian carries on unaware
"Yes, downtown Telford.
The Hollywood stars all holiday here y'know.
Oh yes, the place is awash with champagne and *******."
He smiles ruefully. "Asif. I'm lucky to get brown ale...
and all that gets up my nose is the wife!"
Enid says, "I don't get that."

The comic continues,
"My wife is very demanding y'know....
She says to me recently that she wants more ***!
The ****** woman's never satisfied....."

Edna says, "That reminds me....
how did you go on with him from packing?"
"Well...." says Enid.........

And the comic continues
"More *** at her age.......!
So, I thinks to meself, I'll play along, so
I says....What's the matter with you!
Ain't once a year enough for you?
Quick as a flash she says, "No it ain't.
I'm sick of waiting for Santa!"

Enid says ".....I just saw this purple thing.
I had no idea what it was 'till I touched it!"
Much laughter ensues
And comedy continues.

                                By Phil Roberts

you forget
you are a poet
and accidentally
make sense

I don't see you anymore
I can see those books
You were reading
Few still trapped in cellophane
Waiting for you to liberate
And walk with them

Your pyjamas and yeah,that grey tee
You loved it so much
That we bought six of em
All are there
Looking at me blankly now
Asking what now...

Your watch still on the table
Ticking but not
I see your ideas all over
That old blue rug
Those silly comics poster
The sickly coloured socks

And
O for god sake
That wand of yours.
Come back if it works
You idiot

I see you
Stumbling over nothing
Jumping around

I see all of you
So many of you
Everywhere

But only one of me
Looking for you
amongst all the memories
Wanting that one of you
Any-******-one
Come out and
Just look at me
And break a smile
In me;
Please


I see self in the mirror
My life shrinked to my eyes
Dead eyes
Your imprints all over ;
All over the house, the garden, the kitchen
The floor, the plates, glasses, remote, this world of ours,
The air I ll ve to breathe
On me which I ve to live with.

On me.