John Patrick Robbins

DOGS TO THE CHAIN

I remember the moment life stopped and time became
something to serve not live to its fullest.
He was a drunk he was also my father in name only.
He was a bitter old fool too weak
to kick another mans ass but as for his wife,
kid, and dog it was prime time for his frustrations.

Some blamed it on the bottle but he was spineless shit without it.
I remember the last time I looked into his eyes.
He was coming off another binge.

Taking his vengeance for a pathetic existence.
I stood before him busted nose I was beyond tears anymore.
You can only beat down a dog so long
before it comes back at you ready to rip your throat out.

"You ain't got the balls you little bastard!"

It didn't take balls to pull the trigger.
It took something far more broken inside than he could ever understand.

We both lost our lives that night.
Except in his case it was a mercy killing and long overdue.
I never knew freedom I simply knew a bigger cage.


John reads "Dogs to the Chain":



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John confesses: "The inspiration behind Dogs To The Chain came from a old friend of mine who has passed away, Robert Lee White. I got the idea from a conversation in which he had mentioned no matter how much you even truly hated someone. Nobody was worth giving your life up in turn to take theirs. For in pulling the trigger, that is exactly what you do. Nobody gets away with anything, for even if you avoid prison, you still have to live with the fact you took another's life. He was a true brother of mine and this one is for him."

JOHN PATRICK ROBBINS is a barroom poet who's work has been published with Horror Sleaze Trash, Spill The Words, The Romingos Porch, Red Fez, Blue Pepper, Piker Press, Your One Phone Call, and The Outlaw Poetry Network. His work is always unfiltered.