Tag Archives: Edward Austin Robertson

Creepshow (For Craig D.)

3 Aug
Took the wrong turn
or maybe the right turn
on my way to Rick’s
over on 9th and Maine.
While I surveyed the block,
a silhouette
in an upstairs window caught my eye.
“Was this? Oh why yes it was!”
 Indeed. A
slender figure disrobing–shimmying
out of some tight jeans with the lights on,
no blinds,
curtains open,
in front of a full length mirror.
What did I do to get so lucky?
Look at what the Gods laid on my plate
It would be disrespectful
not to at least take a second to watch the show.
For if God didn’t want me to look,
he wouldn’t have given her such a beautiful figure.
But a voice from out of the shadows
warned
“Look at yourself!
You are a black man
leaning against a tree on a dark night,
gaping at the window of a white woman in a red state.
Explain this so called good fortune to the Lawrence police.”
I begrudgingly relented.
I knew that voice was right.
Plus someone was waiting for me.
The second half of the Lakers game was certainly under way.
I looked around and made sure no figures were watching me from their windows–
dialing up the authorities out of neighborly concern.
I took one last look as she pranced around in her bra and underwear.
The show was over.
Life can be so unfair sometimes.
~Edward Austin Robertson

Tags: , ,

Gone Forever

3 Aug
One day you will wake up and see that everyone
you once knew
has passed on,
or changed
or went away.
Someday ”this” will all be over.
It makes every high five more thrilling,
every kiss sweeter,
every hug tighter,
every smile more genuine,
every handshake firmer,
and every conversation more invested.
Cherish the good and embrace the bad,
for it is all moment to moment.
~Edward Austin Robertson

Tags: , ,

Penumbral Eclipse

5 Mar

Her bloody eye, cratered and full,
winked at us, then shut itself for what seemed hours.
What appeared to be a miracle
would have caused disorder within our ancestors
so long ago.

We ritualized our own sacrifice,
knowing that lack of sleep
would rob us of our humor
to witness this special event.

Worth it to be grumpy
considering three hundred years can pass
before future lifeforms find themselves
awake at 5 in the morning,
openly wondering about their antecedents’ archaic rituals and customs.

~Edward Austin Robertson

Tags: ,

Bayou

28 Feb

A violent interruption of my sleep
where the cold air and the red soil turn into
the thickness of the bayou.

A cozy community of commuters
descend into weirdness together
Flickers of light onto our dark faces,
waking up to the smell of fried chicken
and the sun kissing my forehead.

We have arrived.

~Edward Austin Robertson

Tags: ,

Book Review

23 Feb

My 2011 collection of poems, “Chasing Kerouac with My Credit Card” got a nice little write up on the site Sturnella Neglected; a blog, kept up by Patrick Westerhaus, a Kansas writer and musician. He’s a pretty funny guy, and he has some rather interesting musings.

Check it out yo!

Tags: , ,

Her Apartment on Stassney St.

3 Jan

Beyond the patio glass,
into the courtyard
where she walked her dog.
The dog that I’d grown to love–
the dog that had eaten a whole eighth of cannabis,
went catatonic then pissed down his own leg.

I stared out at them both
from inside her apartment,
watching her
Watching it
poop in the grass,
knowing that this would come to an end
much sooner than she wanted.

Knowing that I would miss her
miss him,
and miss this;
but also knowing it was best for everyone to move on.

I was not ready.
And to look back on things now,
I’m not sure I will ever be.

~Edward Austin Robertson~

Tags: ,

Eavesdropping

30 Nov

I listen to the trees.
The wind asks the questions
and the leaves respond with answers.
A conversation worth hearing.

~Edward Austin Robertson

2014-05-18 18.55.01

Tags: ,

Interleague Play

5 Nov

Someone threw a punch
out in the right field stands
“Big. Mistake.” I said.
Hit a female cop in the face
they all took a turn
beating the shit out of him.

As they hauled him off
I took a drink from the flask.
The guy in the next seat
offered me a little nip
the tasty whiskey
took the edge off the crazy game
.
Armando Benitez came in
to close out the ninth inning,
gave up three runs–
Giants’ fans were pissed
then grew silent.
One threatened to stab me
and any other A’s fans in the adjoining row.

The top of ninth inning over,seagulls
descended upon the trash and the garlic fries
as if they knew the game was already over.

~Edward Austin Robertson

Tags: ,

Vomit

3 Oct

Stumbled upon last week’s leavings
a result of too much Bacardi and
a failed attempt at acquiring a habit
(the one and only cigarette purchase I’d ever make)

There it was though;
the pieces of undigested wieners
mixed within the chunks of weird,
fuzz covered puke.
Not thinking I poured gasoline on it
and lit a match
only to see the flames climb
as high as the patio roof
licking the bottom of the ceiling.

Hose already in hand I flushed out the fire
before my aunt could turn around
from washing dishes in the sink.
A sure fire eviction avoided–but only barely.

Later that night,
while smoking with some friends in the backyard,
I lost it completely
when someone asked
about the smell of gasoline.
I doubled over and howled–
my body convulsing involuntarily from laughter.

“No seriously why does it smell like gas” he asked again.
I wiped the tears from eyes.
“Give me a minute man.
I’ll tell you when I get it together.”

~Edward Austin Robertson~

Tags: ,

Damage Control

11 Sep

He’d seen this movie before–
staring at his face in the mirror,
already feeling the pangs of guilt,
and he hadn’t even done anything yet.

This one was not as cute as his current gal.
No matter–
it is hard to quantify attraction.
There was something that brought him here
and now he’d have to answer for it.

Making out was pushing it (sort of)
not touching each other was skirting the line,
and mutual masturbation was definitely cheating
(But this nut was not going to bust itself).

The only way he’d be able to walk away from this
was to run—and his balls were far too full to do that.
Now was the time to decide
if it was worth lying about,
worth doing,
and worth the feeling he’d have
when he looked in the mirror the next day.

~Edward Austin Robertson

Tags: ,

← Older Entries
Newer Entries →