Phil Roberts

The foul universe

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






The foulness of the universe
Is in plain sight for all to see,
From the born idle-rich,
To paupers in great need.

Such an awful universe indeed
Where evil stars hang overhead,
And needy folks living in the streets
Pray to the Lord to soon be dead.

An evil place with evil stars
That glare down like foul messengers,
Messengers of doom and despair
Evil, tormenting harbingers.

Harbingers of a doomed race
Living in the foul universe,
Trying frantically just to survive
Wondering what could be worse?

Far worse than anywhere you’ve seen
Is the foul universe we live in,
A universe besotted with hatred
A universe wreaking of sin.

A dreadful sky looms overhead
Glaring like the face of doom,
A sky with black stars that don’t shine
Blotting out the sun and moon.

The foulness of this septic place
Is almost far too much to bear,
Polluting all the pure at heart
Like toxic gases in the air.

The foul universe holds goodness in
Refusing to let anyone escape,
The clutches of the monstrous sky
A universe that oozes hate.

A universe so bland and foul
Stinking up our hearts and souls,
Until our mind is almost dead
Until our hopes are all on hold.

The foul universe will win again
As all the good folk ever lose,
And as a nightmare life goes on
The living wonder, “What’s the use?”

THE END
© Copyright 2021 Philip Roberts
Melbourne, Victoria, Australia

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