An invasion crept upon our shores
Like poisoned flotsam and jetsam
Of a ship dashed on to the rocks
And swallowed in to the darkness
Da Vinci, Keats and Shakespeare
And left a society of artistic whores

© Donna Roberts

your eyes x-rays,
my fragile bones laid bare.
blood sings to your siren

voice. in my blood,
intrinsically, you lie, always
part of my hollowed flesh.

disjointed, bones quiver,
heart stops; only beating
if yours leads. into you, i

Fall.

I wonder,
if someone else,
someone far,
far away,
just maybe,
stopped to think,
is there anybody out there?

Face to the wall
Back to the world
I lay in my empty bed

My body shivers from this loneliness,
seeking the touch of a lustful man.
My head rests within my cupped hands,
the warmth reminds me of company -
Something I haven't had in a long time..

My eyes dance around the pain on the wall,
as the nights breeze casts a cold blanket over me.
I run my finger nail behind my ear,
to pull back the hair from flowing in my face -
Butterflies absorb the moment of intimacy with myself..

Face to the wall
Back to the world
I wonder why...

some things
never change
maybe we can
start all over again

maybe
maybe not

some people
never change
so maybe we can

maybe
maybe not

*By sweat session I mean going to the gym. Since todaaay I fell asleep for three hours and had a lovely dream and then deciding to write this :)
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


It’s the kisses I miss most.
Tis sad when the closest you’ll even come to passion,
Is when you’re passed out on the couch after a sweat session
Dreaming a scene from the latest mega-hit,
Replacing the heroine with yourself –
Even if it’s Twilight –
Such kisses are electric and restore the fight,
The strength, and the gumption required to face the day alone

With your head held high,
Such dreams are little secrets and treats,
While family and friends are berating and harping on your feats  
Tsking your taste in men, like it was a fatal bad habit

death is life's only joy
tomorrow is arsenic
hope is only a toy

Cherry flavored cherub
lips, flavor of humanity,
weightless encompassing of angels,
cherry cheeks cheering me
to chide her modesty,
sweet honey words pouring
warmly flowing sticking,
told her she deserves more than she wants,

"You know what else is beautiful?
Making fun of people at the casino."

Said I did that at work, too.

"It makes me feel
more sane than I really am."

"Isn't that all action, love."
Especially love does that.
Wonder how she took that...
perception a breaker of truth,
breaking of truth called experience,
truth always resolidifies,
breaks perception and experience.
Love honey cures the symptoms of the human condition
while the body lets the virus
run 'till it faces truth.
Sometime truth doesn't come,
left to our own senseless perceptions,
vulnerable to be shattered by any passing glance.

"Are you OK, Devlin?"

"Yeah just a bit tired. Tired and sick."
Reverse it and they won't recognize.
Tired of people calling truth sideless,
doesn't matter if its only matter
is the balance of life,
life is a side.

If I could be that final bell
After a long and hard day
Or a secret to never tell
I wonder what you'd say?
Or to be that good news
You'd been waiting to hear
Then you could be my muse
And I'd have nothing left to fear

© Donna Roberts

i want to die
there is no point in living
fuck you all
there is no forgiving

What is poetry if bereft of love?
Is it as fruitful as the barren tree?
Or as empty of promise
As the clipped wings on a dove?

© Donna Roberts

the life not worth living
needs no follow up sentence
needs no poem
just a snap decision
and a decisive action
when the room is too bright
i just flip off the light switch
and sit there in the darkness
until sleep finds me

race is a place where a face
my face
is not a member seen or heard
but a proclamation
I am not a race I am white
I am middle class
and I have a cock in hand
so I am there for upper rung
right
am I in/visible to you too

discourse
is a focus on points of interest
and while you assume or I assume you assume
I live on a silver plate
not a platter
I meanwhile have to keep my window closed because
the rats crawl in with ghosts at night
my heart is hurt
I work to scrape rent and I am
a crack in the seam on the wall

I am in a pastry box
myself
filled with sweet bread though it may be
sometimes
sure but
it is a white little take out box
can’t see in
or out

race is a place I am without
aging scars on wrinkled
white hands
I am not in the know and
no
I do not know you because
your box is closed up for
take out
too

Every life is many days,
day after day.
said Stephen
and I have not met you
I am only always meeting
myself
your race is my race is not myself
and you are not my neighbour
but are my sistermotherdaughterlover
and my neighbour
too
I saw you in my mid-blackout last night
and forgot you in my bed
this morning
and you reminded me at noon of white paper
and black ink and
red blood
and then I saw you in the sky
from the roots of a tree
and saw you down there
too
but I don’t know what your aging face looks like

tell me

day after day
open up my box and pour us
out into
that stolen sea
together

I do not know -
Тhе to to a
К 1 Philosopher-

- Son of Kharol'd Abandonments at Door-
Deputy ThesSalloniY-
-
After Khristmas the Greek -became-
Or Brother of Mefodia MammoNth-
-AnD-

KirilL reformed and wrote about EN
NibelungIA-
Mefod - Glagollitca and their
Receiver of -
-
Saint Klimen't reproduced Khirilic
About-
Oh nibellungyi whose amore-
But that side--
Onogondrow...

-a hare cristmas-

everything is shit
but the toilet is clogged
let's take a bath
then maybe a sun shower

oh death death
sweet bloody death
free me from the chains of life
this mortal anchor
in the sea of tedium
keeps me tethered
there are no sails
and if there were
no sufficent wind
not even the one
im wasting
right
now

It's gotten to be
that the only way
I can find someone
is through taste in music.
I would fuck you if
you would just listen
to some indie shit.