Poems
by John D. Robinson
Rosemary Rules
Rosemary appeared and
she wasnt looking happy:
You fucking bums! get
the fuck out of my place
now! she screamed:
Gordon, her husband
began laughing as the
other four of us
looked blankly at each
other: it was 9am and
wed been drinking
all night:
Youre shaking Rose,
look, youre shaking,
you need a drink said
Gordon as he handed
Rosemary a can of beer:
Fuck you bums! she
said, snatching the drink
and taking some
healthy gulps: This is
my home, remember
that, you piss, shit and
vomit in the bathroom
or else youre out
of here, you
understand, you losers
we nodded our heads as
her husband continued
laughing: I gazed out
of the lounge
21st floor window
and looked across the
town that looked so
quiet and peaceful, but
I knew better than
that and I laughed
along with Gordon
as Rosemary belched
and tossed the empty
towards an
overflowing waste
bin.
Tale Telling
The five of us stood captured
by his tale
I got her working, I mean,
she was wetter than a
slaughter-house floor
we couldnt hold back
any longer and began
laughing at him:
he became confused
and angry with us:
Whats so fucking
funny?! he demanded:
Okay I said, smiling,
her story is that you
couldnt get hard and
passed out, she says
you never fucked her!
Fuck! he said
Weve all fucked her
I lied, as the five of us
nodded our asshole
heads, grinning:
Okay he said but
when I woke up
she told me that I was
the best fuck that
shed ever had and I
never actually
fucked her! his
face burning with a deep
eternal red, I need a
fucking drink! he said
walking away and
we followed like dumb
thirsty dogs, our tails
between our legs and
a laughter buried deep
within our youthful
wickedness.
Timely Excuses
Id paint pictures, I have visions,
I could create master-pieces,
I could write a novel,
a collection of poetry,
a play,
an opera
and Id love to play a
musical instrument as I am
sure that I would be a
natural
bullshit:
youre full of self-deceit
and self-denial,
maybe afraid of exposure.
lack of confidence,
whatever,
when art is your life you
go with the spirit or you
make excuses:
like the great
Bruce Lee
said,
Be stronger than
your excuses
The Smile
Her smiles come often,
but I could see
beyond the smile,
I knew what had been
before that smile,
she has a smile of a
survivor
of wretched torments
alive with alcohol and
drugs and
prostitution,
a smile
robbed of its
purity
and
dignity,
a smile
that even
Mona Lisa
gives a
nod to.
Atomic Mushrooms
She suddenly awoke, I felt her
movements as she rolled over
the edge of the bed to puke
over the ashtrays and empty
wine bottles and then she
fell back to sleep, she
grunted and snored like a
fucking tractor and then
passed wind with a knock-
out, at which point I slid
out of her bed, found my
clothes, dressed: and then
looked at her: she was
pretty and a nice
human being so far as I
was able to recall: I didnt
know her name and I
didnt know if I should
have any regrets because
I couldnt remember
what had happened, a
complete alcoholic
blackout of the night:
I found the front door
and walked out into the
world that cared little
for the atomic hangover
mushrooming behind
my blood-shot eyes.
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