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James WF Roberts
Daylight cuts savagely through
the mid-morning gloom
another miserable night.
another night of hands upon the neck
feeling the love of her first man’s fist.
head in hands, she moves naked through
the house. Wiping the sleep from her eye
wiping the misery, the streak marks
under her eyes.
On the street below
he walks by. Arm in arm
with the special one.
is this just an illusion
just a painful reminder of
what used to be…
his love for his euphoria
his boredom with her finally took hold.
Old man sits on a bench, devoted
to his only long term lover,
Life-long partner, whatever he
gets in a brown paper bag.
she knows what it’s time for
morning ritual. Same spot in her left arm.
belt around the forearm
the sexual desire, the burn for this feeling
the religious glow across her face
I watch her from my window.
Kids playing in the street
kicking a ball, wrestling, mocking each other’s
strength…girls walk by, the boys try desperately
to hide the fact they love what they just saw.
roaring beasts of burden
soaring high above the world.
harsh green smoke hisses out around
kids on playing on this new avenue.
a crack of thunder deafens the world
no more kids are on the street.
Rivers of blood
stain Holy Places.
I’m drinking coffee
wondering why I’ve lost another
lover—before the passion faded.
Bitching and moaning in the unemployment line
masturbated more than
I care to remember in the last few days.
People on the street begging just for a shiny coin.
they walk through the food courts and parking lots,
blue cobble stone steps of a train station,
young boys indoctrinated into a street culture
they’re the wrong colour for, five thousand miles
across the other side of the planet…
they see these wretches—these the silenced
Boys see their chance. Lighter fluid and a mobile phone
kicking and pissing the poor old bastard on the street.
light him up—quick click here to watch it on youtube.