Beyond The Deception
A snake in the snow is but a stick that breathes.
When ice meets flesh, no matter it's venom.
It is rendered useless.
I am always that ice, when I have to be.
Death In Doses
Lines can be perfect in such a fractured sense.
Baring truth with your soul.
Breaking your heart and shattering their delusions of the label they have cast upon you.
I won't break this false image, but I never pen these lines for anyone but myself to begin with.
It's never about praise nor is about trying to capture anything more than emotion.
Like a firefly in a glass jar.
It illuminates the soul of the moment and fades just as quickly.
I am something far beyond rumours spoken by bitter souls and lost causes.
I live here and nowhere you will ever truly envision.
Let them dream in delusion while I drown in past sorrows and paint in misery for rejection.
False hopes never trouble me.
For I never see it for anything more than it was intended to be.
A death rattle upon the page.
I pen my epitaph one word at a time.
New Poems In Old Shoes
I have known many women.
Some good, some bad and that usually makes them even better.
Love is strange in its ways.
Pain can seemingly make someone yearn for something that never truly was.
Some people are just not meant for the chaos that is love.
And that's why they are supposedly happily married.
John Patrick Robbins is the editor in chief of The Rye Whiskey Review and The Black Shamrock Magazine.
His work has appeared in Fearless Poetry ZIne , Punk Noir Magazine, The San Pedro River Review , Piker Press, The Blue Nib , San Antonio Review, Red Fez, Sacred Chickens.
His work is always unfiltered.
John Patrick Robbins is the real deal. These are stunning poemsReplyDelete