2/14/2017 0 Comments Three poems by John D RobinsonTHE VERY, VERY OLD TIMER Within a few moments she noticed my finger rings as genuine works of the Navajo Nation and right away told me that in her past lives she had lived as a native american, not once, but twice and she could see my native american profile- aura and feel my distant heritage back in peaceful and harmonious times in north america before european whites invaded and introduced their treacherous trash and diseases into the inhabitants lives in the most deadliest and ugliest of ways; ‘Throughout the centuries I’ve seen so much tragedy and cruelty and I’ve seen so many inspirational rainbows’ she told me looking over my shoulder; I dropped my dead cigarette into an ashtray ‘I’ve no doubt’ I said ‘Ancient Egypt was simply amazing! and Cleopatra!’ she said; ‘Listen’ I said , ‘ ‘I’m sorry but I’ve got to go, I need to take a piss, then find my wife, I’ve got a sense that she may need me right now’ THE UNANNOUNCED VISIT Theresa was several years younger and we’d been lovers for just a few weeks; she had a beautiful pair of pert breasts with wonderfully inverted nipples and I took her on an unannounced visit to meet my father, he answered the door and he was drunk and he was dressed in a fake-fur women’s shawl and little else; he welcomed us in and we stepped into the apartment to see his wife, high and fucked-up on numerous chemicals, dancing half-ass naked to some Jerry Lee Lewis; Theresa didn’t say a word, she didn’t even look at me, she turned around and walked out of the scene forever; I sat down and joined the party, ‘Who was the woman?’ my dad asked, ‘Someone who doesn’t appreciate Jerry Lee Lewis’ I said, he nodded his head and Theresa was forgotten. AIR RIFLE I felt bad the moment I pulled the trigger, I heard a soft thud and watched as the small sparrow tumbled, flaying its tiny wings in fear and panic through the dense gorse bush; I lost sight of the poor thing but could hear it writhing on the ground, fighting, holding on to its last and I felt a painful and horrible shame and I was 13 years old beginning to encounter myself and the cruelty within and without and I knew right there and then, that it would be something I’d battle with for the rest of my days. ----------------------- Image - www.flickr.com/photos/40745211@N00/ Bio: John D Robinson is a published poet; ‘When You Hear The Bell, There’s Nowhere To Hide’ (Holy&intoxicated Publications 2016) Cowboy Hats & Railways’ (Scars Publications 2016); a contributor to the 2016 48th Street Press Broadside Series; his work appears widely in the small press and online literary journals including Rusty Truck; Red Fez; Outlaw Poetry; Bareback Lit; Degenerate Literature; The Commonline Journal; Haggard & Halloo; Beatnik Cowboy; Boyslut; Anti Heroin Chic; In Between Hangovers; Grandma Moses Press; Yellow Mama; Hobo Camp Review; Eunoia Review; Zombie Logic Review; Rats Ass Review; Sentinel Literary Quarterly; A Cavalcade Of Stars; Dead Snakes; Hand Job Zine; Horror Sleaze and Trash; Outsider Poetry; Your One Phone Call; Spokes; Grandma Moses Press; Down In The Dirt Magazine; Walking Is Still Honest Press; he is married and lives in the UK with his wife.
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