Five Poems
by John D Robinson



Spiteful Annie


Annie was a long term junky

and then switched to being a

spiteful alcoholic;

she came from wealthy

country folk who constantly

bailed her out of jail and


one cold night I took

‘C.E.O. Tony’ around to her

place, it was busy and

filthy, best I could I made

‘C.E.O. Tony’ a sandwich;

‘Why the fuck do you keep

bringing these bums around

here? Annie asked and then,

‘He’s not going to shit

himself is he?’

‘I hope not’ I said

Tony had fallen asleep,

slumped in a wooden chair;

‘I’m going, I’ve got work

tomorrow morning’ I said,

‘Fuck you’ spiteful Annie

said, ‘You pussy’

I didn’t argue with Annie,

she was spiteful and it was

getting late and she was





a black line



The Alien Object


We’d been drinking for

several hours, moving

from bar to bar and when

drunk and staggering

towards the next drink,

she suddenly stopped

and said

‘There’s been something

in my shoe all fucking

day and its really giving

me shit’

she sat down on the

cobbled stone street and

forced off a shoe;

a dog’s bone, as thick as

a thumb and as long as a

forefinger, fell from the

shoe and bounced into

the street;

‘That fucking flea-fucked

dog’ she said

and as we continued

on our staggering,

I started laughing.





a black line



Business As Usual


She said to call round

late afternoon and she’d

have something sorted,

and later, when she

answered, I could see

she was looking

flustered and on edge

and in a feint whisper

she said ‘I’ve got some

company: the police:

that fucker son

of mine

has fucked up

somewhere’ she

outstretched a hand

as if in a


gesture and as I

reached out,

she slid

 the small lump of

hash into

my palm and

said softly

‘square me tomorrow’

I smiled and


my head as

she closed

the door and


to deal with her





a black line



‘I’m Making Movies’


Aggressive in voice, she

moved in close to me, her

scent was cheap and her

breast implants were

impressive and


her father sat silently,

drinking rum from a

paper-cup and staring out

of a soulless window into


‘I’m making movies’

she said ‘Adult movies’

‘I’m making a name for

myself’ she said quietly.

‘I’m okay’ the old man

said, ’She looks after me’

I looked at her, she nodded

her head and winked at me

and said ‘You’ve no

business here, unless that

is, you have some other

interest you’d like to


I could feel her sultry and

alluring warmth and then her

father belched violently

as I made for the door.




a black line



Welcome Back To Work Interview


‘What? if anything

did you miss about

not being at work

during your 2 weeks

annual leave?’


‘The use of the

company printer’

I answer honestly

‘and nothing else’

I add


‘Are you sure?’

I’m asked


‘Yeah; I’m as sure

as Hemmingway was

the very moment he

pulled the trigger’


he shook his head,

frowning and then

finished the routine


‘Welcome back’.








a black line


More poetry from Winamop

Copyright reserved. Please do not reproduce without consent.