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Poems
by John D Robinson

 

 

Jo Jo

 

Jo Jo was lost

and would never

be found,

Jo Jo had no

path to follow

from her first

breath

to her last,

but

Jo Jo

could sing

and dance and I

watched on

as she

survived the

abuse,

assaults,

neglect,

racism,

watched on

like a

lighthouse

until the

light was

extinguished,

Jo Jo

still dances

in me

and you,

Jo Jo

dances

enchantingly

forever

on any street,

in every

doorway,

in any

world,

open your eyes

and see,

Jo Jo

is

dancing.

 

 

 

a line, (a short blue one)

 

 

Love Poem

 

An eagle hovering effortlessly,

a tree dancing elegantly,

letting go her leaves in

a storm,

that is love –

water cascading easy,

endlessly

through the mountains

fingers,

the murmuring reflections

in a baby’s eyes,

that is love,

the touching of

hands and hearts,

the entwining of

universal dreams and the

silhouettes of

union,

that is love,

that is love

as lovers ascend the

ghosts of smiles

and bathe in

total surrender

of the self

in the shadows of

such brightness,

that is love

as a morning slides

through your windows,

as birdsongs are

beautifully scraped

against the sky,

as the breeze strokes

the rocks,

as the brush

paints itself,

that is love,

where rivers meet

and flower into

oceans,

when breath is

drawn from

another

and voices become

a voice,

that is love,

that is love.

 

 

 

a line, (a short blue one)

 

 

Poem For Percy  1791 – 1822

 

Fuck man,

200 years ago

he was

promoting

that a temple

of worship

was not

needed to

save mankind

and dismissed

the idea that

god exists,

he advocated

free-love and

encouraged his

wives to have

extramarital

affairs as he

did,

he was a

vegetarian and

animal rights

activist,

he loved and

breathed the

natural world,

he applauded

political

freedoms

and condemned

any form of

oppression,

he once blew up

a tree with

gunpowder,

he was expelled

from Oxford

university for

not admitting

or denying he

was the author

of a radical

pamphlet,

he declared the

spiritual

legislative

sacredness of

poets,

he dug deep

for just

29 years,

200 years later

we know this

cat

was gone

for sure.

 

 

 

a line, (a short blue one)

 

 

Getting There Some How

 

The breeze rests a short

while, cloud hidden

and I drink my wine:

the heartbeat quickens

and the world suddenly

changes

and I drink my wine:

war rages at our

fingertips, the outrage

has no measure, but

the world looks on at

the fucking horror,

but many minds are

thinking of money,

investments,

financial interests

and cold callous

deals and

opportunities

and I drink my wine

staring at the clock

that hasn’t moved

for some time now.

 

 

 

a line, (a short blue one)

 

 

Hell Belongs To All

 

She screamed in my face

‘Fuck you and your

fucking services!’

‘Okay’ I whispered:

‘NO! I fucking MEAN IT!

Fuck you! well, I mean

the fucking bullshit, you

make us go through!’

I didn’t have an answer, I

detested the process, it

was a piece of shit:

‘Look, I agree, it’s

bullshit and I’m a part

of it as you are too’

I said:

‘That means nothing

to me’ she said:

I nodded: ‘Okay’ I

said ‘But if you don’t

get to this appointment

they’re really hammer

you this time around’

‘Well, fuck it!’ she said

walking away with

some friends, living,

laughing at the absurdity

of it all:

yeah,

fuck it, I thought and I

walked away from the

office: back home, I

smoked a joint and got

high whilst listening to

Art Pepper

and thought,

fuck it,

 I’m calling

it in.

 

 

a line, (a blue one)

 

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