Phil Roberts


I am 64 and loves cats, rock music, and horror fiction and poetry

Thanks for the world
For all that it's worth,
It's rotten through and through
It's entire girth.

Thanks for the planet
It isn't worth a damn,
But thanks all the same
For all that I am.
Thanks for the wishes
I know you mean well,
Girl I'm so glad to hear
That you're doing swell.

Thanks for the words
Only spoken in jest,
I know that you mean me
All the very best.
Yes, thanks for the heartaches
That you're sending my way
Now that our love is over
What more can I say?

Thanks for broken promises
All the lying that hurts,
I know that your own neck
Must always come first.
Thanks for the build-up
That the boss men ignore,
Thanks for the sleeping mat
Left outside your door.

Thanks for the heartaches
And thanks for all the pain,
I still cry for your love
But I'm crying in vain.
Thanks for the misery
And thanks for all the tears,
I longed for your body
But you wouldn't let me near.

© Copyright 2021, Philip Roberts
Melbourne, Victoria, Australia