I remember the great stone work and the names.
The oldest ones impressed me the most.
It was on the way home from school I would always stop here.
There were no asshole kids looking to kick my ass.
And I thought it was sad that the dead were far better than the living I had up to this point known.
It was here I first began to write. It was nothing but it was a start.
I stayed there awhile then eventually made my way back home.
Getting hassled by everyone from kids on bikes to dogs letting me know it was best to keep moving.
I rather have stayed amongst the tombstones.
And seldom after all these years has my opinion changed.
There is peace eventually.
It's just sad I have to die to know it.
About John Patrick Robbins:
He is the author of A Cold Beer Beats A Warm Heart.
Available on Amazon published by Alien Buddha Press.https://www.amazon.com/dp/1725615576/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1534539089&sr=1-1&keywords=john+patrick+robbins
He is also the editor and chief of the Rye Whiskey Review.
His publications include:
Blognostics, Angry Old Man Magazine, Outlaw Poetry Network, Ariel Chart, Romingos Porch, Red Fez, Spill The Words, Under The Bleachers, Horror Sleaze Trash, Blue Pepper, Synchronized Chaos.
His work is always unfiltered.
Randomly came across this poem of yours - fantastic!!
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