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30 Year Manifesto

15 May

Make money

Be kind
Be kind
Be kind.

Work harder
and smarter.

Be patient
be gentle
be lovingly aggressive.

Maintain a good sense of humor.

Do the right thing
for the right reasons.

Be conscious of what I ingest.

love my partners
provide higher quality of life
for my offspring that the
one I was afforded.

Be grateful.
be faithful to the moment.
Don’t waste the days.

Don’t chase tail
because that’s all
you’ll wind up with.

Don’t pass up things
you’ll regret not doing.

Vote with your wallet.

Only get drunk when
you’re happy.

Believe in the silver lining.

Have realistic expectations.

Travel.

Appreciate beauty.
Become beauty.

~Edward Austin Robertson~

February

13 May

February

February is always the toughest month of the year for me,
November is no picnic to deal with either.
One signals the beginning of winter
the other signals the end.

Nothing is as it appears in February
the month itself
is an illusion
an anomaly
28 days
sometimes 29.

From the farcical celebration
of Black History
to the fictional Puxatawny Phil.
Valentine’s and President’s Day
rest arbitrarily in relation
to other “holidays.”

I distrust February
so much
that I find
it hard
to trust Aquarians
which includes
me
half
the time.

~Edward Austin Robertson~

Dark Gable

12 May

Growing up
I fantasized about
being a 70’s porn star.

Why the 70’s?

Bushier beavers
natural looking women
the kind you
see at the grocery store
the kind of woman
who
I actually had a
chance of fucking.

No intrusive
bright lights
fake tits
or runway
strips
where there should be
a mossy forest
of pubes.

I prefer
the texture
of an alfalfa
sprout
sandwich
when I’m
going
down on
a girl.

Kay Parker.
Honey Wilder
Jeanna Fine
Hyapatia Lee
Vanessa Del Rio
Nina Hartley
Juilet “Aunt Peg” Anderson
and Janey Robbins

all women I’d fuck this very
day.
Women who all had distinctive looks
and sexual characteristics.

Not like these carbon
copy actresses
making the same
unimaginative films

They took chances
in the 70’s
good funky
background music
with deep bass grooves
jazzy organ
and swanky guitar licks.

The German
and French flicks
from those days were
even crazier
and more depraved
with their nutty
premises
and wardrobes.

Maybe my
ex-girlfriends
are right,
maybe
I am
addicted
to porn.

Though it
could
be worse.

I could
be addicted to
smack,
or crack.

Edward Austin Robertson

Poem For Meg

9 May

Meg was one of the most attractive women
I’d ever met.
She was stunning
clever
quick
and slightly vicious.

Creativity oozed out her pores.
It was impossible to be
in the same room
and not take notice.

We all were digging her
(even our female roommate
Julie).

She started dating
the mercurial stud of the
house, PJ
but eventually
married
our talented
goofball friend
Gibby.

We were happy for both
of them.

They made each
other better people.

Which was the reason
for my shock
when I got that
call.

One of the worst things
you could imagine
had happened.

I had never gotten
too close
to her
to spare myself
angst.

She was off-limits
and I had this
proclivity
for falling in love
with every
smart and
beautiful
woman I came across
(even if they weren’t
my type).

Now I wish that
I’d had the maturity then
to consciously acknowledge
my attraction
to her
and appreciate
her presence,
then simply move
on to another subject
like normal
adults
do.

It wouldn’t have even
been an issue.
Nothing would
have changed
for anyone involved.

One thing her
passing has taught me
is that no matter
how many times
you suspect
someone has heard it,
it never
hurts to
tell them
how brilliant
you think
they are.

~Edward Austin Robertson~

Regional Bias PT.VII

11 Apr

East coast women are great to talk to.
West coast girls are great to look at.
Southern gals know how to party.
Midwestern women know how to take care of a man.

None of them can be taken too seriously
They will ALL drive you crazy
if you let them.
~Edward Austin Robertson~
.

Bukowski knew what was up.

This is the time when they kill horses

8 Apr

The construction of destruction

Was walking by a truck
with a bumper sticker
that read” Freedom has a
taste that the protected
will never know.”

Seemed profound.
Until I looked at the driver
and saw that
he couldn’t have been
any older than 50.

Which made me wonder
about the last time
we truly fought for freedom.

Anyone who’s ever
played
Risk
or Axis & Allies
understands the
difficulty
in capturing a
strategic foothold
in this country
of ours.

The only possible
invasion from Mexico
is through the restaurant
kitchens and construction yards
along our borders,
armed with their culinary skills
and mechanical inclination.

From everything
I’d read about Nam
it wasn’t our fight
to begin with.

Often referred to
as unfortunate
and unnecessary.

WWII is arguably
the last real fight
for freedom
involving this great
country,
more about
seizing the role
of superpower
than saving Jews
from the sadistic
Nazi party krauts.

As much as an afterthought
as Lincoln freeing
the slaves?

Imagine the horror
of opening the
daily papers and
seeing the blitzkrieg
gain momentum
capturing Europe
one city at a time.

I was at home
with flu,
lying in bed
during the first
Gulf War Invasion.

I was 12 years old
and my 103 degree
fever
left me wondering
if I’d suffered brain damage.

Surely what
I was watching
on TV wasn’t
real.

I’d had no concept
of real violence
or war and started crying
thinking the
end was near.

That WWIII
was underway
while Peter Jennings
read the names
of the American Allies
off the teleprompter.

The world
was involved
but it wasn’t
in fact
a world war.

It wasn’t
the terror
of seeing missle silos
go up an open
in the 1960’s
in territories
like New Mexico,
Nevada,
west
and north
Texas.

Watching
those
snakey lights
shoot
into
all those
buildings.

Splashes
of fireworks
and volcanic
sparks of energy,

as the reporters
talked of things
that I couldn’t
quite grasp.

It all seems
like
some sick feverish
dream that
never completely
ended.

~Edward Austin Robertson~

So I met this gal (For Adrian)

20 Feb

And of course we hit
it off.
She was a red headed
secretary at the office
I worked.
We started dating
even though we couldn’t see ourselves
getting married to each other.
Nine months later
we broke up.
All I got out
of it was
a bunch of lousy poems
and a little bit of sexual experience.

So I met this gal
at a bar near campus.
She bought me drinks
all night and followed
me home.
We fucked for a
while
and though she left her earrings
I never saw her again.
All I got out of
the deal were a
couple of lousy
poems
and some naked
photographs.

So I met this gal
through a friend
of a friend.
Tall
gorgeous and
superficial.
I didn’t fuck her
because I thought
there’d be other
chances.
There weren’t
and all I got
out of it
were a couple of lousy
poems
and memories
for the spank
bank.

So I met
this gal
while
on tour doing
comedy.
She was married
but very very
kinky.
We had a two week
fling
that ended badly.
All I got
out of it
were a few lousy
poems
and a yeast
infection.

So I met this gal
while visiting
Canada
and we decided
to stay in touch
and fall in love.
She broke things
off two weeks
before my next visit
and all I got out of the deal
was an open ticket
going anywhere
in the world
but Toronto
and a few more lousy poems.

Finally I decided
I didn’t want to meet
any more gals.
I’d had enough lousy
experiences
and
poems
to fill 3 books.
So it seemed logical
to just leave
the girls alone
and work
on the lousy poems.

~Edward Austin Robertson~

Food Stamps

7 Feb

Food Stamps

There was a woman who
worked at the DHS office.

She struck me as a prettier
version
of a gal I’d
had a fling with
in Toronto.

Just talking to her
put me
in an uncomfortably
shy disposition.

She shared the receptionist
duties
with five other
employees

and I was afraid
that my
obvious attraction
would be apparent
to everyone else.

She was the kind
of woman
that you’d have to
stop on the streets
and tell her
how pretty she
was even
though she’s
probably heard
it a million
times since
the day she
was born.

And really
that was all I
wanted,
was to just tell
her that and get
it out of my
system.

I didn’t
want anything to
come of it.

In fact there
was a chance
I’d be moving
north to
Portland in
less than a month.

Besides there was
a reason I was in that
office,
to get food stamps.

What could
I really say to her
besides that?

“Baby girl
let’s say you and me
take my EBT card
and go back to
my place

I’ll make us some
lobster and salad
and we can fall asleep
on the couch
watching French films
on Netflix.”

Nothing says
sexy like
abusing
the very system
that employs her.

Now THAT’s
being a rebel.

As it was,
something would have
to give.

I was running out
of reasons
to come bother
her
with questions.

Soon I’d have a
job–
I needed one badly–

and unfortunately

that took
precedence
over
everything else.

~Edward Austin Robertson~

Easy Access

15 Nov

If there weren’t any
reservations
about who could
obtain reservations
then vacancy
wouldn’t be the issue.

Anyone could
physically be there
but sometimes
one can feel
lonelier
with others
than they
would by themselves.

Finding
someone isn’t
the issue,
its finding
someone
who deserves
the access,
smells
taste
and touch
of such a forgotten
and rare delicacy.

Easy access
isn’t altogether
easy.

Edward Austin Robertson

Toy on Target

2 Nov

1.
Dropping
toys
instead of bombs
for the Festival of Children

that
said the market researchers
will doubtlessly make
an impression

It has made
a great
impression
on the whole world

2.
If the aeroplane
had dropped the toys
a fortnight ago
and only now the bombs

my two children
thanks to your kindess
would have had something to play
with for those two weeks

~Erich Fried~