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Thursday, October 18, 2018

John D. Robinson Going Straight For The Throat


I HAD TO

I heard him crying
one night, alone,
I crept downstairs
from my bedroom
into the lounge,
he wasn’t aware of
my presence:
I crouched down
and watched my
father weep, drunk,
confused and
fucked-up:
for several minutes
I remained silent
and then I
returned to my
bedroom and wept,
I didn’t know why
except that
I had to.




A HURTING KIND

He hurt with
his punches
and he hurt
with his words
yet walking away
to go live
 with some
fucking pill-head
whore
and die at the
 age of 43
is a wound
still fresh
three decades
 later.




IF ASKED, I’D SAY

Write something down that’ll
kick-hard between the world’s
legs, let it know you’re
around and that you’re not
fucking-around for applause
or pages in books:
write something down that’ll
seize readers by the throat
and will force the heart to
beat faster, to take away a
breath, to leave a scar, give
no mercy and fuck the
consequences:
write something down,
scribe the truth
and don’t be afraid.


John D Robinson is a published poet from the UK: hundreds of his poems have appeared in print and online: his latest chapbook publications are: 'Hitting Home' (Iron Lung Press)  'The Pursuit Of Shadows' (Analog Submission Press) 'Echoes Of Diablo' (Concrete Meat Press) and just unleashed is 'Too Many Drinks Ago' Paper & Ink Zine publications.

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