Time Framed Me
The math was simple and life seldom is .
The women are sometimes easy and the relationships often complex.
We are guessing at best on what’s our next move.
Trying to pretend we know it all.
When in reality we are all hopeless by design.
Writers need a page and another drink.
A model needs a compliment, photographer and a runway.
We all need something or someone.
And when we face the music at last
We need a furnace or grave .
I was always a bit odd so my tombstone will read closed to submissions but open to suggestions.
As I will have a mailbox standing beside my headstone.
And a sign that reads keep off my lawn and no soliciting unless you are hot.
This joke will be lost on most so-called poets.
Who will take pictures and read poems, standing over my grave.
Pretending we would be friends when in reality it is them that put me there.
Let’s not make believe and if I bump into you at some fire and brimstone bar.
Please simply pass me by
Because make no mistake we were never friends.
John Patrick Robbins is the editor in chief of the Rye Whiskey Review , Crossroads Magazine, The Black Shamrock Magazine, Drinkers Only. His work has been published in Punk Noir Magazine, Piker Press, As It Ought To Be Magazine, Mojave River Review, San Pedro River Review, Blognostics, The Blue Nibb, Sacred Chickens, Schlock Magazine, Herion Love Songs.
