Archive | October, 2017

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

B Side From 2009

25 Oct



What ever happened

to the good old days

of getting trim?


It was the gentleman’s

way of saying he’d scored.


For example,

“Man I went over

to Sheila’s house

to get a haircut

and ended up

getting some trim.”



you hear something



“Yea she let me hit it.

Yea she let me beat it up.

Yea I got to smash.

I dug in them guts.

I stabbed it.

I got to poke.

I got me some cut-up.”


Listening to these

dudes talk

about sex

will make

you wonder

if there

is something violent

going down.


~Edward Austin Robertson

B Side from 2010

25 Oct

Bedroom Jollies


One time an ex-girlfriend

and I were

fooling around

while I was battling the flu.

She tried giving

me a hand job

while I was standing


and I passed out against

the wall.

It felt so good

I couldn’t

dare ask

her to stop.


That night

was not nearly as


as when

I didn’t


my hands thoroughly

after making a

pizza with jalapeno


I guiltily


when her hoo-hah

started burning

and she immediately

jumped from

the bedroom

to the shower.


It was funny

until my balls

started burning so


that I strongly


dipping them

into a bowl of milk

(I settled for

the sink.).


When it subsided

she and I

went back to bed

freshly washed

to get

down to business.


Another reason

why food

and sex isn’t

always a good mix.


~Edward Austin Robertson

B Side from 2009

25 Oct

Apollo’s Offspring


From amidst the constellations and half moons

come the ideas and questions

that drive us

to worship the elite company

who’ve stripped down the barest

elements of

math, physics, and chemistry,

holding the keys

to the universe.

~Edward Austin Robertson

in their brains.

Power Couple

20 Oct

Spent the sunny afternoon driving around town

looking for a birthday present

for her.

Struggling to curb my enthusiasm.


Looking at what was ahead of me

the period of time that all my favorite poets wrote about

The phase of life where stimulation, excitement and thrills

segue into stability, focus, and domestication


This was probably the happiest time period of my life

but I wasn’t going to admit that to her

or to myself.

Because it was when you let your guard down

that life hit you the hardest

I wasn’t going to get carried away.


If my cumulative experiences have taught me anything,

it was that you never knew what was waiting around for you

around the corner.


I wasn’t going to get caught slipping,

running around town

smiling like shit was sweet.


But I was happy enough.

She asked me to grade our relationship

I said “right now, a 90 percent. Because we still have room to grow.”


She feigned an appalled look,

as if things were perfect,

or that they could ever be.


I knew plenty of couples who would be happy with an 85 average.

I felt like we were the fortunate ones.

We were in a situation of our own choosing

And still free to pursue lots of dreams together

–albeit with very little time to waste.

Not only was 90 a passing grade

But it is considered an A in most of academia

Under the circumstances, a 90 percent was pretty damn phenomenal.

I knew plenty of couples who’d never even hit 90 percent in one day.

~Edward Austin Robertson


Geeking Out on Bobbito Garcia

13 Oct