Robinson
‘John D
must try harder
in every subject;
he appears to
spend a great
deal of time
day-dreaming and
preferring his own
company, he
may struggle to
establish a career
for himself in
the future if he
continues with his
present attitude’
scrawled school
reports year
after year –
“Robinson
Mr Mathews wants
to see you right
away, you’re
no longer wanted
here” said the
grinning floor
manager of the
warehouse –
“Robinson
you think you’re
something special
don’t you?” snarled
the angry Corporal
“Yes Corporal”
I replied,
this was the wrong
answer and he threw
the contents
of my locker across
the floor –
“Robinson
you’re one hell
of a lazy bastard!”
numerous factory
supervisors have
observed –
“Robinson
how the fuck
you’ve made it
this far in life is
beyond my
imagination”
is a frequently made
statement by friends
and enemies –
“Robinson
John D; you are
guilty as charged”
said the bloated
red nosed magistrate
sending me into
the arms of probation –
But for many
years, by far the
most frequent
echo is
‘Dear Mr Robinson
thank you for
sending us your
work to our
publication,
unfortunately
it is not what we’re
looking for at the
moment, but we wish
you luck in placing
it else where’
John D Robinson was born in 63 in the UK; his work has appeared widely in the small press, most recently in Bareback Lit, Red Fez, Dead Snakes, Pulsar, Poet&Geek, The Commonline Journal, The Kitchen Poet, The Chicago Record, Mad Swirl.