Sometimes when i say goodbye.
I wonder how I hold it togather befor
the phone touches the reciever.

Does she know the pain I mask.
Memories make us drunk with emotion.
Time makes us bitter from the cold.

And in the darkness she brings light.
Under the ice she creates warmth.
She kisses  the past away.

My shelter in which to run
If I choose to lead so does she follow.
Two halfs of one heart.

Weve walked across broken glass to lay
in a feather bed.
The nights passionet flow
her head apon my chest.

And how could I find one so perfect for me.
Distance takes the heart and traces the tear.
Such comfort brought from the understanding.
That pain would be erased if she were here.

Jules i see that next day as a promise
set in stone.
That from that first hello
we found in one another a reason to never be alone.

The highway rolls into the horizen
eternal is the love.

As a sun sets apon the ocean we stand
my arms wrapped around you waves crash into the shore.
In love I give everything.
For i could spend a lifetime here with you.
And still thirst for more.

With words we struggle to say.
What flows from the pen.
Also bleeds form the soul and that
shall never go away.

The page laughing at me the canvas cold and blank.
Winter filled room in the middle of june.
Why had my heart run a ground on such jagged shores.

Now I scavage for remains of my soul.
ragged I wonder would anyone remember me apon my return.
Would she stand smile apon face and regret in heart.

The page stayed empty for a reason.
They were all gone the great titles along with there writers.

Me the fool brave or foolish enough to  attempt the
impossible  with little to show for it.
A broken relationship and some bad tattoos  in
some  weird places.

To be stuck down in a  hollow .
Is fine  with suplies low and the truth a sober mind brings
time was ticking the false deadline was apon me.
And like a kid trying to cram in every answer on a school test.
I was stuggling  waitting for the teacher to say times up.

Hands shaking from the need throat dry  and a headache
that would last for a week.
Why had it always come to this  isolation.

Maybe it was the roads way of calling me back.
Like a lover calling me back to bed.
To entangle untill the mornings light.

Yet just like a passionet affair the struggle for the title
kept me trapped to this place for nights on end.
You cant grasp what is never yours its
like trying to see that sweet southern breeze.

Everytime you find  one with which your heart agree's
You find the titles taken.
life and love will always  bring you to your knees.


This is taken from what will be my first book
once through many long gin soaked nights is finally at it's final stages
and thank God cause it's been hell.
as of  now the title will be The Road Begins ?
Hell my friends if you can think of a better title to describe my writting feel free  to let me know   Always your slightly crazy  friend John Patrick Robbins

Better watch watcha do around the lab.
Dont let your hunch backed assistant play with chemicals.
Get your head out the coffin and your mother and law
off the slab.

For strange brew.
Can re animate old fiends.
And really mess with you.

One two three four.
You blink and from the grave rises more.
Yes your new discovery wont get your fellow mad
scientest clappin.
they just eat my neighbors oh well you reply.
Zombies happen.

They called out the national  gaurd seems ive created a mess.
People screaming what shall we do?
well run would be a good guess.

His worm filled mouth is open and i dont think
mr zombie wants a kiss.
people sreaming and running in terror shopping at
walmart has never been like this.

Uncle Walter after only seventy years its wonderful
thoose skeletal toes a tappin.
It's become wide spread so I must say.
My bad ya'll but zombies happen.

Hey it"s been awhile how ya doin like I care.
Writting little bits of misery isnt my style.
Drinking till dawn writting low brow poems is something
I do with such great flare.


John Patrick  you know the rest.
Never got a degree but i got something else.
more than a few times incase you havent guessed.

Turn off the lights i'll just use my hands to see.
Yes im way worse in person.
But ya know it just aint a party without me.

Were theres gasoline so should  there be fire.
Far from a saint.
But I have dated a couple girls who once sang in the choir.

You may won the contest but I really didnt lose.
cause you gotta ribbon and me  I gotta bottle of *****.

Guess who never paid attention in class?
I was to busy staring at the teachers.
Uhh miss hotness could i please have the hall pass.

Wonder what slowed us down  uhh probaly
when we hit that tree.
You know my friends it just isnt a party without me.

Hey folks they dont all have to be deep meaingful  im not nicknamed  gonzo for  nothing  cheers  my friends

For thoose of you who may not know.
Just call me gonzo I write the absurd for life is insane and sometimes
it takes a madman to speak the truth so very clear.

I write for the broken vacant faces that have lost all hope.
To the dreamer who's well is slowley running dry from everyone
telling him to stop wasting his time.

I write like a endless highway fueled by whiskey and wild women
every adventure leads to pain but life is pain and i love in spite of it.

I thirst for every unseen mile the desert my brother it's people dwell
in the spirt of the west the ***** parlors and brothels spirt still linger.
I write with a hint of danger and a promise of disaster.

Im a blues player whos trying to out run the devil.
Im a outlaw riding to cross the border a woman looking to the
empty range for my return.

I write because I breath in a world were the creative air has gone
stale.
The bottle sits apon table and I welcome any strangers company
I just rather that stranger be a warm woman instead of a
unfriendly amigo who is a little jelouse.

Write to be more than just part of the highways landscape.
Some may call me crude crazy insane some even ****** and
liar and thief.
But aside from thoose compliments.
No matter what you may call me.
Dont ever forget to just call me gonzo.

Paper latterns light the gardens path.
To a splendid night and a summer bath.

Rose peddles trampled under her feet.
As her form fill's the darkness.
hiding in the shadows trying to catch a peek.

Of the beauthy who gives life with her
kiss.
Magic seems real on a night like this.

On a night like this the world stands still.
when feelings are spent.
And emotions serve there own will.

She tempts the angels and makes the old young.
Climbing the invisable ladder.
Rung by rung.

Green tea she sips while drifting down
a lonley night.
A painters brush draws a tear at her sight.

Golden hair cold blue eyes.
She breaks hearts with sugar coated lies.

Jasmine fills the air.
With love and memories to share.
nothing about her seems real.
She acts unfazed  with mass appeal.

Often is her coldness mixed with rejection.
She surrounds herself with walls for
constant protection.

Living in a world of her own making.
Giving visions of passion for the dreamers taking.

No matter her ways still someone she does miss.
As the wind travles  through the trees.
She reflects on a night like this.

She fills the emptyness with a secret innovation.
On a broken dream and a promised vacation.

Standing in the shadows soaking up her eternal bliss.
Romance and passion.
Come togather on a night like this.

this is a very old write of mine i found in one of many old comp books
just thought it sounded decent  i belive i wrote this about five years ago when i was to scared to show a friend let alone strangers my work.
anyways alot has changed since

In many travels across this melting *** of a country I have found that every small town has it's own cast of characters every group has the ******* who cant handle
*****.
The party girl who gets crying and wishes she could start all over again.
And the one to busy living this life to give a **** about what you think or how your
feeling.

After a couple  of weeks it gets to anyone the sense of not belonging.
the constant movement  it eats away at you like rot gut whiskey.
Once even though in agony you so joyfully keep pouring down your throat.

And the conversations become the same are we but playing a game
saying whatever it takes to get what we want.
But what is it we truley want?

Comfort of a warm body by are side the feeling of flesh apon flesh.
It has to be more than just *** but out here I belive its to feel
what its like to benormal and for one moment pretend you wont  be
walking out that door to chase sun once agian.
Living like a pirate apon the land.

Not matter her body's warmth when you leave you never havea chance to
know the bad or the reallity of people.
thats why im forever a tourist.