B-Side from Upcoming Collection

22 Nov

A Serious Situation (Life is)


One could win baseball games

trophies, awards and championships.

One can even win the money game

but no one has ever beaten death.


It was a losing battle

one coming in the form of a

grizzly bear

shark attack

house fire

home invasion

cycling accident

plane crash

heart attack

broken neck from slipping in the bathtub,

a peanut allergy

a mugging

innocent bystander in a bank robbery

choking on his own vomit

suffocating from his own fart

and being eaten alive by house cats

or swallowing a whole octopus.


Seemed pointless to worry about it.

If he was going to fully embrace life

then he’d have to fully embrace dying inevitably.


Drinking fresh snow water

melted from the mountain

reinforced everything pleasant

he’d ever experienced in life:

the musical epiphanies

the road trips, birthdays and sporting events

all paled to the natural phenomena

he’d been lucky enough to witness.

He’d seen shooting stars that were so vivid

that their trails trailed off into the Milky Way’s band.



He could still hear the stream nearby rushing past their campsite.

Alone in his tent

his head on a makeshift pillow,

he fell asleep listening to the dying roar and crackle of the

wood in the campfire.

It was quite possible that his life

couldn’t get better than the one he was already living.



~Edward Austin Robertson






I See the Body Electric!!!

7 Nov

Deep breaths are taken,

feels me up with her current

with no need for touch.


~Edward Austin Robertson



Paula (2013)

25 Oct



He was hurting—possibly reeling.

Thinking a trip down to Austin

could cure his ails

He and the old perky blonde

with big tits and a fake tan

bought floor tickets to watch

3 old Jewish dudes in Adidas sweatsuits

jumping around

and rapping on stage.

Just the fix he thought he needed.

The show was good

and the head was amazing

but it didn’t make him feel any better.

In fact nothing would.


~Edward Austin Robertson

Jeffy (2013)

25 Oct



Jeff had every brand of Jordan tennis shoes ever known to man

and most of the Nike shoes of that era.

He had every G. I. Joe ever created

and best of all,

he had an adjustable graphite backboard

that we could dunk on when we pulled it down to 8 feet.

He even had a great porno stash.


His dad owned a baseball card and his mom

bankrolled the family as a hotshot lawyer.

She looked like a poor man’s Geena Davis.

I always hoped to catch a glimpse of her in her lingerie

whenever I spent the night over there.


Hanging out with him came at a price though.


He was goofy and asinine

and frequently tried talking us guys into playing naked freeze tag

in his enormous two story house

(I’m very proud to say he never succeeded).


This white boy would pull his pecker out

and slap it against his stomach

while watching “Saved By the Bell” on his couch.

Hard to believe I ever had a friend like him.

Today I wonder about those weird days

and what could possibly become of a guy

who grew up fingering his cat’s butt hole for fun.


~Edward Austin Robertson


Sticky Fingers (2012)

25 Oct



Her birthday was on September the 11th

now known as 9/11.

Her parents forbade her to date outside her race

but every night during our senior year in high school

I’d come home with a piece of chicken in one hand

and my dick in the other to enjoy the dirtiest and filthiest phone sex,

only to sit awkwardly next to her in English class 3 times a week.


Once I was foolish enough to let my friends listen in on us

(the only time I ever faked)

and they paid me back by telling her what I did.


She cut me off after that.

But hers was the first female orgasm I’d ever heard

outside of porn,

before I’d had a chance to have any real sexual experience.

I never thanked her for that.

That is until today.


Lines (2011)

25 Oct



The third line was chopped out for the two of us to share

but the garage door distracted us long enough

for my 15 year old brother to

sneak the rail off the kitchen counter.


It was on.

Never drove so confidently in my life

listening to “Badge”

giving  him a ride home later.


It didn’t last long though

and soon I was in misery

sniffing coke off the basin of the toilet

eating weed out the bag because my pipe was busted

and I had run out of papers.


Watched helplessly as the daylight bled onto the walls

of the living room

the day’s sun threatening to arrive before I could get comfortable.


Had I known where my mother kept her .44

I’d have shot myself just so to get some shut eye.


My jaws hurt.

My nostrils were irritated

and my throat felt severely burnt

a chalky taste of phlegm and drainage.


The last time I did cocaine

was the last time I’d do cocaine.


~Edward Austin Robertson


Brief Moments of Shared Experiences

25 Oct



My baby blue vehicle from 1987 got me around Dallas

like a “Midnight Cruiser” admiring the skyline

escaping my troubles

by becoming the Talk Show Host and Wu-Tang Clan hype man.

Carrollton to Grapevine

Lewisville to Duncanville

Cedar Hill to Allen

Garland to Flower Mound

for this girl and that girl.

Eventually the car broke down and all I could do was walk away

My problems I could always drive away from

but now my car was one of them.




My older cousin had a beautiful smile

that he loved sharing with all the ladies in his life.

He was a smarmy but cool devil.

I once stabbed him in the hand with a pencil

because he wouldn’t stop teasing me.


When things were calm between us he’d come

over to play video games before heading to his girlfriend’s house down the street.


I only saw the hugs

never the drugs

and I’m still naïve enough to believe

that he didn’t deserve the fate

that awaited him outside the door to his home.


It left me more perplexed than sad

and still seems rather unfair.




Uncle Bobby died in his sleep

in some far away city

alone in a hotel room.


He was my favorite because he was fun

super laid back

and never gave me shit.


We both liked music, sports, and women

the basis of most of my adult friendships.

The last time we ever hung out was in Austin

eating seafood and doing shots

our last conversation about Lakers basketball.


I said I’d call him soon

but 2 years went by

and my mother phoned me with the unfortunate news.


He was relatively young

but he impressed upon me that

you can squeeze so much out of life

before the age of 44.

In fact I will feel

extremely lucky if I get another 12 myself.




I’d joked for quite some time

that the only thing my father

had given me worth keeping

was a big dick.


Perhaps he held a grudge

because I chose to live with

my mother when it seemed

perfectly normal to do so.


I’d grow to develop grudges

of my own for all the missed occasions and events

moments and conversations.


The tragic apathy I developed

only compares to the attitude

I exhibit towards strangers.

The difference being I have a better chance

to cultivate a relationship with most strangers.


Too late for us.

Too much time has passed

we don’t need each other

at this point in our lives.


He said many years ago

that I’d understand when I got his age

and had my own kids.


No sons of my own yet

but in a way I do get it.


I know what it is like to choose the wrong woman to love.

To have her say that the way she feels has changed.


I know the pain and anguish of rejection

to be denied access to parts

that were previously accessible.


I find it easier to sympathize with the old man.

He must have been terribly alone in his early 20’s.

Mother dead, his father gone and finding himself newly divorced.

It must have been horrible seeing his first born

call another man “daddy.”


Yes. I feel for you old man

as I should have felt for you then

as I feel for myself now.


I’m a little closer to understanding

how you felt and what you went through.

Though I wish to God I didn’t.


~Edward Austin Robertson