Clouded by obscurity
the moon rises higher
fighting to illuminate
the sleeping world below.

Still they hunted
in silvery light
still they taunted,
gorging themselves on misery
growing with each hate filled cry.

The fight had been long
the road splintered,
the pain that brought comfort
coursing through her veins,
how it burned, 
open wounds revealing
the battle to take control
violently clashing,
the will to live diminishing

The war within had been lost
the knife reflecting her yesterday’s
making its mark;
the scars forever open
as the outside world echoed her deathly song,

The wind no longer sang,
its voice halted by a child born of melancholy
and madness.

Closing her eyes
silhouettes of yesterday open the door,
unleashing their will,
darkening her existence.

The battle is lost.

R.M Roberts ©2014

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Filed under Tales from a Life Inbetween

Insatiable Sensational

Bloodlust, craving,
decency a rule broken.
the younger the better.
Violation and violence
feeds the reader
never satisfied,
as they condemn
then concede,
their acceptance the catalyst,
the twitch in the loins
of a society
fucked and dying.

Sensationalism sells.
Conflict, seduction,
“Death by Welfare”
The more degrading the better.
The talk show generation.
DNA, adultery,
the parading of failures
mere foreplay in the eyes of the viewer.

The media grab the axe.
Hack the backs
of the mourning
then rejoice in “Rivers of Blood”
the licentious greed,
their needs and twisted voyeuristic
desires growing
as the public lay panting
wanting more.

Gratification gained.
No facts needed,
the victims mere pound signs
as those at the top,
caught in the act,
are exalted
their misdeeds paraded
like a moral banner.

Lying, thieving ways
toppled by words.
The pedestal crumbles
the ink still wet
as printed damnation,
and vocal displeasure
force them to feed
with the scum of their own creation.

Reah Roberts ©2013

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Animation 39

Daylight brings confusion
drug induced illusions
multiple infusions
pill popping delusions.
Drag the living corpse downstairs
place it in the usual chair
it slurps the coffee waiting there
screams inside “it’s so unfair!”
Watch it smoke a cigarette
laced with anger
pain, regret.
Then once it’s settled for the day
watch it type its life away
sitting there with nowt to say
same old shit
just different days.

Reah Roberts ©2013

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Filed under Tales From A Broken Society

“Not On My Watch”

Recession trends
it’s Twitters news
Job Centres busy
full of queues.
The middle ‘squeezed’ beyond their means
the bankers’ bonuses busting seams.
The poor are left out of the fight
their plight kept hidden out of sight.
It’s mumbled but there’s little done
who cares when votes need to be won.
Lose your job then ‘scrounge’ they shout
We’ll knock you down,
We’ll flush you out.
We’ll beat you down with policies
We’ll crush you with atrocities.
Votes on marriage another ploy
as countries threaten to destroy.
We’ll join their fight ignore our own
as Europe falls
with billions owed.
Not understood but ever near
and shouted loud despite our fears.
Of starving,
Getting by.
Despaired we live
in squalor cry.
Eviction letters through the door
as council tax and rent bills soar.
The private landlords reap rewards
while workers march demanding more.
Bedrooms victims of a ‘tax’
MPs stabbing in the back
the people whose vote got them there
yet none take time to really care.
The sick ignored, their cries are drowned
disabled rights kicked to the ground.
The NHS means nowt no more
as private firms beat down its door.
Energy prices rise and soar
their profits keeping no one warm
The students plight a stabbing poke
at those who bought the words once spoke.
New free schools and academies
reforms a backward remedy.
Food banks spring up overnight
while people slave for Workfares right
To take away our dignity
To instigate insanity.
Masses and classes
where once was war,
now friendly chatter at the door.
Just where are those prepared to stand
to stand and fight, take back this land.
To help the young just starting out
protect the old not dying out.
Once riots would be running rife
defending those who live this life,
of fear, compulsory poverty,
as we settle for complacency.
While those who lie, who cheat, who steal
are busy making backroom deals.
Smirking saying they know best
that they are blameless
…unlike the rest.
But they know there’s nowt much we can do
as they make and break or bend the rules.
So we need to fight,
show we disapprove,
as they screw us all
and blame us too!

Reah Roberts ©2013


Filed under Tales From A Broken Society