John D. Robinson- Three Poems

John D Robinson was born in 63 in the UK; began writing aged 16; many of his stories and poems have appeared in the small press and online publications; Bareback Lit, Red Fez, Dead Snakes, Pulsar, The Commonline Journal, Poetic Diversity, The Clockwise Cat, Your One Phone Call, Horror Sleaze and Trash, Napalm and Novocain, Opal Publishing, The Kitchen Poet, The Chicago Record, Mad Swirl, Poetry Super Highway, Bold Monkey, Zombie Logic Review, Ink Sweat & Tears and upcoming work in Yellow Mama, The Legendary, Message In A Bottle, The Sentinel Literary Quarterly.he is married with 1 daughter, 2 grandchilden, 3 cats, 1 dog and he likes to drink wine like a fiend whilst listening to quietness.



SOME UNINVITED COMPANY

On numerous occasions
we had been warned;
“Don’t do this and don’t
do that and definitely
do not fuck around with
their women”
but of course we fucked
around with their
women;
from leaving the bar the
6 of us soon
became aware of
about 10 hooded figures
following us, armed with
baseball bats and iron
rods and once in a dark
narrow alley we turned
and faced our sudden
uninvited company;
2 of the hooded figures
broke from the group and
began walking towards
us;
O’Sullivan was the platoon’s
tough-mother and Edwards
was a close buddy of
mine, the 2 of them walked
towards the 2 hoods
and as they neared, with
breath-taking speed, Edwards
whipped out a bicycle
chain from inside
his jacket and smashed it
across the face of one of
the hood’s who reeled
backwards, screaming and
clutching his face;
O’Sullivan put the other hood
down and cried “GO! GO!”
There was no
hesitation, we ran as fast
as we fucking could and
for days afterwards I
heard nothing but the
sounds of the hood’s
screaming as the metal
chain cut flesh down
to the cheek bone,
I hear it now
as I write
and I remember how
the 6 of us felt;
jubilant and victorious
as we ran, the adrenalin
pumping, the shocking
craziness
of it all searing
through
our beings like a
volcanic lava
and how, when we
stopped running ,
rested;
how in
that moment,
we could
find no words
to say to
one another.


SOBER

Carmelina became angry and
it surprised me; a thoughtful
friend had given me some valium;
I had a poetry reading
the following day and I
really needed to stay sober;
it was a one-off special
occasion for a very dear
poet friend 18 months
in heaven;
at 52 years old
I would remain sober
at  a poetry reading for
the first time in my
life; I got through with
the valium, hash and
codeine;
I hadn’t read for
several years and I was
quickly reminded why;
the monstrous egotistical
contests; the shitty
rhyming poets with
their thick volumes of
self published perfect bound
glossy jacketed books;
the self glorifying claims
of when and where this
poem first appeared and
on and on and whining on;
I sat, sober, listening,
my brain scalding with
the bland lifeless voices
of self adoring assholes;
I read; I had chosen very
carefully;
Carmelina had come to
see me read;
“You were a fucking relief”
she said no longer
concerned about the valium;
I had read sober; it was a
whole new experience for
me which I do not wish
to repeat;
I went home and drank;
“You did well” Carmelina
said, she smiled “I’m
proud of you”
the wine tasted real good
and I nodded my head
and maybe, just for a
hint, I felt good and
trustworthy, almost.


JUST LIKE YOU

I’ve seen god
in puddles of rain
in the scribbles
of babies
in the smiles
of the lost,
in the dew
and the dust
and in the
footsteps of
the nameless
just like you
I know god
as you know
a new morning
as I know a
new morning
I’ve seen god
in garages and in
cafes and bars and
public toilets and
in the eyes of cats
and in the doorways
of sulking cathedrals,
like you
I know god in the
flight of soft things
and in the voices of
oceans and alcohol
and what we call
love;
trying to make it work
with something
somewhere;
always looking over
our shoulders for
something that we
don’t have words
for;
knowing it is there
all the time;
somehow,
a faith in
the mystery
of it all.