Tag Archives: Edward Austin Robertson

Saturdays were good for

14 Oct

Nursing hangovers and thinking about the night before.
Sitting on the porch with my roommate “Quilty”
Bong hits and watching cartoons in my pajamas
Cleaning house and listening to Flaming Lips
Grateful Dead in the sunroom
Broken Social Scene and good spirits
Cooking lunch to the “Bends” album.

Checking out music from the UNT library
Catching up on emails
College football on the couch.

Beating off and writing poetry
Beating off and watching porn
Beating off.

(Not) catching up on schoolwork
Tecmo bowl at my Dad’s house
X-Box tournaments with the roommates
Sunbathing at Barton Springs Pool
Hiking the Oakland Hills
Strolling Stinson Beach in silence.

Pickup basketball in Berkeley
Whiffle ball in the backyard
Neighborhood football games
Rec-league baseball.

Free shows at J & J’s pizza
Going to the bar in my bathrobe
Dance parties and Fela Kuti.
The likelihood of “Trim.”

Biscuits and eggs with Becki
Pancakes with Margie
Eggs over easy with Terri
Sushi with Sally
Stir fry with Mandy
Ice cream with Kathy.

Sunday

was for
recovering
and dreading
the work week.

~Edward Austin Robertson~

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Placebo

10 Sep

I don’t want to be a replacement,
merely a stand in.
Someone to physically comfort you
until the real thing shows up.

Getting through the day is easy
it’s not hard to smile
when the sun is out
and the laughter is high
and there are distractions
aplenty.

Its the nights that
are difficult to face, or
at 1:30 in the morning
and there’s nothing
left to do
but sweep
the dark corners
of your mind
for any inkling
of hope to
remedy
your heartbreak,
and rehash every
little detail
wondering
what could have been
done differently.

I could be
that late night distraction
physically healing
mentally soothing
nothing kinky
or dirty
merely
a warm presence
to lay close to
and assuage
those
doubts of
self worth.

Simply put,
a band-aid
and a lollipop.

Edward Austin Robertson

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City Girl

10 Aug

You Narcissistic bitch.

You can’t just play
games with people
like this.

Don’t you
understand that
words are things
you can’t take back?

I think you’re a liar
and a hypocrite
and one of the
most dangerous
types of people
out there.

Self righteous
and self important.

I’d rather
hang out with
the rankest
whore
in Ontario
than
be friends
with
someone like you.

At least
the whore is upfront
about who she is.

As crazy as my
last girlfriend
was. She was at least
honest
and loyal.

But lesson
learned.

I’ll certainly be
more careful
as to
who I offer
my heart
to
the next time.

Thank you
for everything.

I wish
I could take
back all the
lovely things
I said and thought
about you.

All the time
money
and energy
wasted
cultivating this
thing.

In reality
they are still
true,
just like everything
else
in this poem.

I’d be a liar
if I didn’t acknowledge
it all evenly.

Peace.

~Edward Austin Robertson~

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Effortless Reflection

2 Jul

It was unavoidable.
The pain and wonder
weren’t
worth giving
in to
the fear
of attachment.

She and the
city
worked
in tandem
to break
down
all
my defenses,

crumpling
under
her touch
until
I felt
my
whole body alive
with
self
awareness.

So when
I told
her I
loved
her

I couldn’t
have meant
the
accumulation
of all
her experiences
that
made her
who she
was.

I barely knew
her.

I didn’t just
mean
the amazingly
beautiful
woman
she was
becoming
right before
my very eyes.

Nor was I
just talking
about
the
invisible
orb
within her
that held
her
capacity
to empathize
and embrace
everything around her.

I was
also
saying
that I loved
the person
I was
when
I was
with
her.

It was effortless
to become
the person
I wanted
to be.

It finally
caught up
to me
when
the bus left
the downtown
Greyhound
station.

Passing
all
the streets
I’d roamed
just
weeks
and days
earlier.

Rethinking
my feelings
about the week
of rooftop conversations
and backyard
grilling,
and making
salads
from the
greens
in her garden.

Then I felt
myself
crying.

About
leaving her.

Crying about leaving
the city.

And finally
crying
about leaving
behind
the person

I was
going to
be.

~Edward Austin Robertson~

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Eve of Departure IV

25 Jun

She certainly
made it hard
to leave.

Without a
doubt
she was
girlfriend
material.

Cute.
Lovable
a great set
of legs,

smooth
skin
and warm
thin
wet lips.

The kind of girl
you want
to follow
around with
an 8mm
film camera
and make home
movies
in the backyard.

It tore me
up
that
I had
to leave
remembering
how much
I’d cried
last time
I’d left
Toronto.

This was
proof
that it didn’t
always
feel
good
to do the
right thing.

But I
had to
be true
to myself.

As much
as I loved
the city
and really
dug her

I wasn’t quite
ready to settle
places
to be
things to
see

waterfalls
and the
open
country air.

She’d be
another name
on
a long
list
of girls
who’d
tried
unsuccessfully
to get me
to stay.

Same old
story.

Another city
another poem
another disappointed
woman.

And me
feeling
like a
bastard.

Edward Austin Robertson

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one more sneak peek

1 Jun

another poem for the book, they are not all as somber, the funny one’s I wrote first the theme for this project is Less sex, more humor. but I guess they all have that David Sedaris sick twisted humor lying beneath the melancholy clouded lining.

Young Punk

10 years ago
I was a junky
a foggy headed
dope
addict.

No girlfriend
my bong
was my companion

I’d be celibate

for almost 3 years
but not by choice.

I’d wake up
load my
2 foot
glass
bong
and then
head to
art class.

All my free
time
spent riding
around
with my
buddy
Paul
smogging
out his
pick up truck.

We had the perpetual
reek of
swag
on our
clothes.

resin stains
on my jeans
and T-shirts
and in the
grooves
of my
keys
from cleaning
out the bowl stems.

I’d skip
lectures
to lay
in the backyard
take acid
and listen
to Pink Floyd
on days deemed
too sunny
to be indoors.

Late nights
spent in
cocaine
induced
paranoid frenzy
scared to sleep
for fear of dying
or losing control
and getting kicked
out of the
house.

yet I had
nothing to
lose
I never thought I’d
see 30.

I couldn’t forsee
the person
I am today
reflecting on myself
as a 20 year old
heart broken over
an Aussie chick
and jerking
off to Nina Hartley
and Vanessa Del Rio.

I couldn’t imagine
then
that not only
would things be okay,
but they’d
get infinitely
better and
that not only
would I become some kind
of
square
but that I’d actually grow to
like the straight life.

Happily eschewing parties
for a quiet night
of watching hoops
alone
with a
bowl of
popcorn
and a pipe to smoke.

My God,
what has become of
me?

~Edward Austin Robertson~

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