Yellow Mama Archives

John D. Robinson
Adhikari, Sudeep
Ahern, Edward
Aldrich, Janet M.
Allan, T. N.
Allen, M. G.
Ammonds, Phillip J.
Anderson, Peter
Andreopoulos, Elliott
Arab, Bint
Armstrong, Dini
Augustyn, P. K.
Aymar, E. A.
Babbs, James
Baber, Bill
Bagwell, Dennis
Bailey, Ashley
Baird, Meg
Bakala, Brendan
Baker, Nathan
Balaz, Joe
Barber, Shannon
Barker, Tom
Barlow, Tom
Bates, Jack
Bayly, Karen
Baugh, Darlene
Bauman, Michael
Baumgartner, Jessica Marie
Beale, Jonathan
Beck, George
Beckman, Paul
Benet, Esme
Bennett, Brett
Bennett, Charlie
Bennett, D. V.
Benton, Ralph
Berg, Carly
Berman, Daniel
Bernardara, Will Jr.
Berriozabal, Luis
Beveridge, Robert
Bickerstaff, Russ
Bigney, Tyler
Bladon, Henry
Blake, Steven
Bohem, Charlie Keys and Les
Booth, Brenton
Boski, David
Bougger, Jason
Boyd, A. V.
Boyd, Morgan
Bracey, DG
Brewka-Clark, Nancy
Britt, Alan
Brooke, j
Brown, R. Thomas
Brown, Sam
Burke, Wayne F.
Burton, Michael
Bushtalov, Denis
Butcher, Jonathan
Butkowski, Jason
Butler, Simon Hardy
Butler, Terence
Cameron, W. B.
Campbell, J. J.
Campbell, Jack Jr.
Cano, Valentina
Cardinale, Samuel
Carlton, Bob
Carr, Jennifer
Cartwright, Steve
Carver, Marc
Castle, Chris
Catlin, Alan
Chesler, Adam
Clausen, Daniel
Clevenger, Victor
Clifton, Gary
Cmileski, Sue
Coey, Jack
Coffey, James
Colasuonno, Alfonso
Condora, Maddisyn
Conley, Jen
Connor, Tod
Cooper, Malcolm Graham
Coral, Jay
Cosby, S. A.
Costello, Bruce
Cotton, Mark
Crandall, Rob
Criscuolo, Carla
Crist, Kenneth
D., Jack
Dallett, Cassandra
Danoski, Joseph V.
Daly, Sean
Davis, Christopher
Davis, Michael D.
Day, Holly
de Bruler, Connor
Degani, Gay
De France, Steve
De La Garza, Lela Marie
Deming, Ruth Z.
Demmer, Calvin
De Neve, M. A.
Dennehy, John W.
DeVeau, Spencer
Di Chellis, Peter
DiLorenzo, Ciro
Dilworth, Marcy
Dionne, Ron
Dobson, Melissa
Domenichini, John
Dominelli, Rob
Doran, Phil
Doreski, William
Dorman, Roy
Doherty, Rachel
Dosser, Jeff
Doyle, John
Draime, Doug
Drake, Lena Judith
Dromey, John H.
Dubal, Paul Michael
Duke, Jason
Duncan, Gary
Dunham, T. Fox
Duschesneau, Pauline
Dunn, Robin Wyatt
Duxbury, Karen
Duy, Michelle
Eade, Kevin
Elliott, Garnett
Ellman, Neil
England, Kristina
Erianne, John
Espinosa, Maria
Esterholm, Jeff
Fallow, Jeff
Farren, Jim
Fenster, Timothy
Ferraro, Diana
Filas, Cameron
Fillion, Tom
Fisher, Miles Ryan
Flanagan, Daniel N.
Flanagan, Ryan Quinn
Francisco, Edward
Frank, Tim
Funk, Matthew C.
Gann, Alan
Gardner, Cheryl Ann
Garvey, Kevin Z.
Gay, Sharon Frame
Gentile, Angelo
Genz, Brian
Giersbach, Walter
Gladeview, Lawrence
Glass, Donald
Goddard, L. B.
Godwin, Richard
Goff, Christopher
Goss, Christopher
Gradowski, Janel
Graham, Sam
Grant, Christopher
Grant, Stewart
Greenberg, K.J. Hannah
Greenberg, Paul
Grey, John
Guirand, Leyla
Gunn, Johnny
Gurney, Kenneth P.
Haglund, Tobias
Halleck, Robert
Hamlin, Mason
Hanson, Christopher Kenneth
Hanson, Kip
Harrington, Jim
Harris, Bruce
Hart, GJ
Hartman, Michelle
Hartwell, Janet
Haskins, Chad
Hawley, Doug
Haycock, Brian
Hayes, A. J.
Hayes, John
Hayes, Peter W. J.
Heatley, Paul
Heimler, Heidi
Helmsley, Fiona
Hendry, Mark
Heslop, Karen
Heyns, Heather
Hilary, Sarah
Hill, Richard
Hivner, Christopher
Hockey, Matthew J.
Hogan, Andrew J.
Holderfield, Culley
Holton, Dave
Houlahan, Jeff
Howells, Ann
Hoy, J. L.
Huchu, Tendai
Hudson, Rick
Huffman, A. J.
Huguenin, Timothy G.
Huskey, Jason L.
Irascible, Dr. I. M.
Jaggers, J. David
James, Christopher
Johnson, Beau
Johnson, Moctezuma
Johnson, Zakariah
Jones, D. S.
Jones, Erin J.
Jones, Mark
Kabel, Dana
Kaplan, Barry Jay
Kay, S.
Keaton, David James
Kempka, Hal
Kerins, Mike
Keshigian, Michael
Kevlock, Mark Joseph
King, Michelle Ann
Kirk, D.
Knott, Anthony
Koenig, Michael
Korpon, Nik
Kovacs, Norbert
Kovacs, Sandor
Kowalcyzk, Alec
Krafft, E. K.
Lacks, Lee Todd
Lang, Preston
Larkham, Jack
La Rosa, F. Michael
Leasure, Colt
Leatherwood, Roger
Lees, Arlette
Lees, Lonni
Leins, Tom
Lemieux, Michael
Lemming, Jennifer
Lerner, Steven M
Lewis, Cynthia Ruth
Lewis, LuAnn
Lifshin, Lyn
Liskey, Tom Darin
Lodge, Oliver
Lopez, Aurelio Rico III
Lorca, Aurelia
Lovisi, Gary
Lubaczewski, Paul
Lucas, Gregory E.
Lukas, Anthony
Lynch, Nulty
Lyon, Hillary
Lyons, Matthew
Mac, David
MacArthur, Jodi
Malone, Joe
Mann, Aiki
Manzolillo, Nicholas
Marcius, Cal
Marrotti, Michael
Mason, Wayne
Mattila, Matt
McAdams, Liz
McCaffrey, Stanton
McCartney, Chris
McDaris, Catfish
McFarlane, Adam Beau
McGinley, Chris
McGinley, Jerry
McElhiney, Sean
McKim, Marci
McMannus, Jack
McQuiston, Rick
Mellon, Mark
Memi, Samantha
Middleton, Bradford
Miles, Marietta
Miller, Max
Minihan, Jeremiah
Montagna, Mitchel
Monson, Mike
Mooney, Christopher P.
Moran, Jacqueline M.
Morgan, Bill W.
Moss, David Harry
Mullins, Ian
Mulvihill, Michael
Muslim, Kristine Ong
Nardolilli, Ben
Nelson, Trevor
Nessly, Ray
Nester, Steven
Neuda, M. C.
Newell, Ben
Newman, Paul
Nielsen, Ayaz
Nore, Abe
Numann, Randy
Ogurek, Douglas J.
O'Keefe, Sean
Ortiz, Sergio
Pagel, Briane
Park, Jon
Parr, Rodger
Parrish, Rhonda
Partin-Nielsen, Judith
Peralez, R.
Perez, Juan M.
Perez, Robert Aguon
Peterson, Ross
Petroziello, Brian
Pettie, Jack
Petyo, Robert
Phillips, Matt
Picher, Gabrielle
Pierce, Rob
Pietrzykowski, Marc
Plath, Rob
Pointer, David
Post, John
Powell, David
Power, Jed
Powers, M. P.
Praseth, Ram
Prazych, Richard
Prusky, Steve
Pruitt, Eryk
Purfield, M. E.
Purkis, Gordon
Quinlan, Joseph R.
Quinn, Frank
Rabas, Kevin
Ragan, Robert
Ram, Sri
Rapth, Sam
Ravindra, Rudy
Renney, Mark
reutter, g emil
Rhatigan, Chris
Rhiel, Ann Marie
Richardson, Travis
Richey, John Lunar
Ridgeway, Kevin
Rihlmann, Brian
Ritchie, Bob
Ritchie, Salvadore
Robinson, John D.
Robinson, Kent
Rodgers, K. M.
Roger, Frank
Rose, Mandi
Rose, Mick
Rosenberger, Brian
Rosenblum, Mark
Rosmus, Cindy
Ruhlman, Walter
Rutherford, Scotch
Saier, Monique
Salinas, Alex
Sanders, Isabelle
Sanders, Sebnem
Santo, Heather
Savage, Jack
Sayles, Betty J.
Schauber, Karen
Schneeweiss, Jonathan
Schraeder, E. F.
Schumejda, Rebecca
See, Tom
Sethi, Sanjeev
Sexton, Rex
Seymour, J. E.
Shaikh, Aftab Yusuf
Sheagren, Gerald E.
Shepherd, Robert
Shirey, D. L.
Shore, Donald D.
Short, John
Sim, Anton
Simmler, T. Maxim
Simpson, Henry
Sinisi, J. J.
Sixsmith, JD
Slagle, Cutter
Slaviero, Susan
Sloan, Frank
Small, Alan Edward
Smith, Brian J.
Smith, Ben
Smith, C.R.J.
Smith, Copper
Smith, Greg
Smith, Paul
Smith, Stephanie
Smith, Willie
Smuts, Carolyn
Snethen, Daniel G.
Snoody, Elmore
Sojka, Carol
Solender, Michael J.
Sortwell, Pete
Sparling, George
Spicer, David
Squirrell, William
Stanton, Henry G.
Stewart, Michael S.
Stickel, Anne
Stolec, Trina
Stoll, Don
Stryker, Joseph H.
Stucchio, Chris
Succre, Ray
Sullivan, Thomas
Swanson, Peter
Swartz, Justin A.
Sweet, John
Tarbard, Grant
Taylor, J. M.
Thompson, John L.
Thompson, Phillip
Tillman, Stephen
Titus, Lori
Tivey, Lauren
Tobin, Tim
Torrence, Ron
Tu, Andy
Ullerich, Eric
Valent, Raymond A.
Valvis, James
Vilhotti, Jerry
Waldman, Dr. Mel
Walsh, Patricia
Walters, Luke
Ward, Emma
Washburn, Joseph
Watt, Max
Weber, R.O.
Weil, Lester L.
White, Judy Friedman
White, Robb
White, Terry
Wickham, Alice
Wilsky, Jim
Wilson, Robley
Wilson, Tabitha
Woodland, Francis
Young, Mark
Yuan, Changming
Zackel, Fred
Zafiro, Frank
Zapata, Angel
Zee, Carly
Zimmerman, Thomas


by John D. Robinson


From the early hours the

rain fell hard and cold and

relentless throughout the

day; by 08:30 AM

I was soaked and

pissed-off with holes

in my shoes and on my way

to a one-bedroom

drugs-den to

meet a gentleman in need

of my support and advice;

a smashed guy in his 30s

answered the door, he

looked worried when he didn’t

recognize me and the

rain fell furiously as he

called out to my client

who came and opened up

the door and I stepped

inside the damp, bug-infested

apartment; the original door

answerer instantly

disappeared into the bedroom

closing the door behind him;

a 50-something unkempt

stoned woman stumbled around

in the kitchen, pretending

to wash dishes, in the small

filthy lounge, a beautiful

20-year-old girl is wasted and

turns away to avoid any

eye contact and then

comes a knock at the door;

a scraggy tall thin youth

bounces in and says

“I’ve got you a treat

man, got it right here”

and he taps a breast pocket

with his dirty hand.

“I’ll write to you”

I say taking my leave

“We’ll meet soon,”

I step back out into the

pelting rain and curse

loudly and wish that I

was someplace else, warm

and comfortable and I

walk through the park

onto my next visit and

walking up ahead of me,

I see an old guy doubled-over,

a big hump on his back and

the rain is smashing and

splattering off the bump

and he moves with

determination, with a

purpose; perhaps going

home and I wonder how

he can see where he’s

going and the hateful

rain crashing down and I

watched him but I

didn’t feel sorry for him,

I felt in awe of this

hunchback in the park;

he became a hero, a muse

and I walked on inspired

in a way I understand

and the hunchback

unaware of his own

beauty in the ceaseless rain,

walked on.



by John D. Robinson



Her parents weren’t to blame,

they were honest, hard-working

folk; they raised 3 daughters

and the middle girl caused them


she took to speed and

alcohol and bad men and she

had 3 children of her own;

2 girls and then a boy;

trying to bring up children

didn’t work out and the

grandparents occasionally

took custody of the children;

the baby boy was taken

into care from birth and

he never knew or met his


I’d see her on the streets,

our mothers were best

friends; we’d known each

other from our first drawn


one time she unexpectedly

turned up at my apartment,

we smoked some grass and

drank some wine and I thought

that we were going to fuck but

she was also friends with my

estranged wife and it never


just a few weeks before her death

I saw her; yellow-skinned and

bloated, I knew she didn’t

have long, her kidneys packing-

up and her heart punished

too much; she took a

beating from a dealer or a

loan shark on behalf of

the asshole she was living

with and a few weeks later

she died in hospital;

and a few years previous

her eldest daughter had been

sentenced to life for

attempted murder; she was

15 years old; a near fatal

stabbing, pushing the knife into

the gut of some enemy and then

ripping the blade upwards;

she writes poetry in her cell

and it is very good

and the bastards took her

to her mother’s funeral

in a secured vehicle

and was handcuffed and

flanked by 2 other officers

at all times;

she writes poetry in her cell

and they are very good

and she dedicates them

to her mother.


by John D. Robinson


“Fuck me man, she really

is ugly” I said “I feel kind

of sorry for her” and I

did, looking at her thin

and haunted soul hunched

alone over a drink.

“She’s not so bad, and

anyways, she gives out”

my friend said staring

at a woman known as June;

or more commonly referred

to as “June the Loon”

a notorious presence in

the local late-night

club scene;

“She’s crazy” I said

“I know” my friend

agreed “But I haven’t

fucked in weeks and

I’m aching and for the

price of a couple of

drinks I’m not going

to let it go; it doesn’t

matter what she looks

like, I just need to get

laid” he said with a

spiky passion.

He moved away and

joined June at a

table; I stood at the

bar sipping on a

beer and then I was

invited to join the

two of them;

up close “June the Loon”

was almost scary, her face

was scarred with the

harsh and dismissive

world she lived in, the

clumsily applied makeup

only made

matters worse, but, she

spoke with a very soft

and sexy voice that

seemed to somehow

contradict everything else

about her.

The 3 of us left the club

and walked the short

distance to the edges of the

town center to a secluded

stretch of grassy banks;

the 2 of them staggered away

from the footpath and

into the darkness;

I walked on and found

a public bench and

waited for my friend,

it wasn’t long before

he appeared looking very

disappointed and angry;

he spat into the air and

cursed “She laid down

and then she vomited

all over herself, I couldn’t

carry on” he said shaking

his head softly;

I patted him upon a

shoulder and gave

a thought for June, laying

alone nearby in the grass,

feeling sick and abandoned

once again, looking up into

the cold distant stars,

looking beyond the stars,

like she’s looking for

something she

lost so very long ago.




by John D. Robinson


She died aged 2 years old

weighing just 13lbs;

prior to death she hadn’t

eaten or drank for days,

100+  physical injuries,

belt marks, bite marks,

cracked ribs, missing teeth

and trauma blows to

her head, deep cuts stitched

with needle and thread

at home;

she was locked in the

bathroom and slept in the

bathtub covered in

blood and feces;

she was just 2 years old

when she was tortured,

starved and sadistically

murdered, like her life meant

nothing at all, no more

valuable than a fucking

falling leaf;

she had never once been

outside of the house,

neighbors didn’t know of

her existence;

her mother rides with

a history of drug abuse and

neglect of children and has

an IQ of 67 and

she is pregnant

with her 8th child;

her father has

a record of violent

assaults upon women and


today he was sentenced for


and well-paid legal bodies

will plead for his life

like his daughter did for hers;

he is 32 years old guilty of

vicious cruelty and murder;

she was just 2 years old

and guilty of nothing;

her life was pitifully short

never knowing of love,

knowing nothing but pain

and suffering,

seeing no one but those 2

brutal bastards;

death must have been a

true relief,

although not a believer,

I like to think that she’s

now in a different place


getting to know of

gentle love.





by John D. Robinson


My dear mom is just something

short of being clinically obsessed

with her house cleanliness

and one of the blinding golden

rules is under no circumstances

are OUTSIDE shoes worn

INSIDE the house;

the rules are drilled into you

at a very early age,

my nephew is 5 and he is

very bright and forward-thinking;

a little while ago he was playing

out in the backyard when he

needed to get something from

INSIDE the house,

without hesitation he strolled

INSIDE the house still wearing

his OUTSIDE shoes;

his mother reminded him,

“Samuel, you know you’re  not

meant to be wearing your shoes

INSIDE the house,”

without pause in his stride and

without turning around he said,

“Well, I am,”

and he carried on walking

INSIDE the house wearing his

OUTSIDE shoes;

there was a stunned silence,

open mouths, wide-open eyes

and nonbelief from the witnesses

and when told of this, I laughed

and laughed and giggled and

nodded my head;

5 years old, an outlaw-in-the-

making; doing things his way

despite the rules of others,

I raise a glass.


by John D. Robinson


“I don’t know how the fuck

you do the writing and stuff

after putting all that shit into

your system;

the pills and drugs

the wine

day after day

year after year”

she says

“Neither do I”

 I tell her reaching for my


grinning in mystery

and waiting for the


that’ll come anytime

soon enough.


by John D. Robinson


Beachy Head in East Sussex,

UK; is a famous stretch of

coastal cliffs, people travel

from around the globe to

jump into oblivion;

it’s about 15 miles from

my home:

I’d met him 3 or 4 times,

a softly spoken, polite and

effeminate, lisping gay-man

19 years old, who enjoyed

the occasional use of

booze and hash, nothing

concerning, party stuff;

his younger brother

jumped to his death 8

months ago, he attended

the funeral, flanked by

hospital staff, stood alone,

away from his family,

outcast and ignored,

like he’d always been

and just a few days ago,

he too threw himself

from Beachy Head;

I’m 55 and I thought I

knew of pain, suffering

and despair,

I don’t,

I don’t have a fucking

clue and it’s best I

keep on getting drunk

and stoned and carry on

with the slow suicide

of living.






Art by Ann Marie Rhiel 2019


by John D. Robinson


Convinced she had a lover,

hiding beneath the floor,

he told me, he ripped up

the floorboards with his

bare hands; he didn’t feel

the pain of the deep cuts

and scratches and

splinters, he was too

driven, too distant,

too spiked with


to feel this kind of

pain; his 2-year-old son

and wife watched on

crying, asking for him to

stop and at first he

couldn’t hear their pleas

until the screams of his

wife cut clean through

him like an angry

chainsaw and he felt the

terror in his bleeding

fingers and he laid

down and cried and shook

like a helpless infant

as his family looked on

waiting for the emergency

services to arrive.



Art by W. Jack Savage 2019



by John D. Robinson


He’s a 2-bed apartment

but lives in 1 room,

TV on 24/7

rarely leaves the


but buys pairs of

expensive sports shoes

online, which he will

never wear outside,

chain smokes, plates

of discarded food

and take away

packaging and

overflowing ashtrays,

the place is filthy,

not a clean surface,

he hasn’t showered

for months,

paranoid that

“they” are out to

kill him, he cannot

say who “they” are,

curtains always

drawn, artificial


no friends, no


he offers nothing

but fear and

suspicion and seeks

attention and then

rejects it: he has

an adult daughter,

no contact,

but he isn’t lonely,

he isn’t alone,

he fears life and

he fears death

and nothing but

an emptiness

in between.

Art by Cindy Rosmus 2019



by John D. Robinson


“I didn’t see it coming,

it was the drugs,

I owed them money

and the three of them

moved into my

apartment: I became

their sex-slave, they

raped me repeatedly,

I performed

disgusting sex acts and

I masturbated for

“free doses” and

when one of the

freaks beat and

burnt me and I

ended up in

hospital, they


I returned home,

it was a fucking

total mess but I

made it my home

again, it’s safe now:

I smoke weed but

nothing more: I’ve

met Gary, he’s 20

years older than me

and he looks out

for me, takes care

of me and I fuck him

now and then and

the occasional

blowjob and I’m

left alone and I

like that way:

it was the drugs,”

she said

with eyes as

dead as

wet pebbles.

Art by W. Jack Savage 2019



by John D. Robinson


He was 16 years old

she was just 6 years old

he abducted her, he

raped and tortured her

and murdered her: 115

individual injuries to

the face, skull, neck,

broken fingers and ribs;

there is something of

us that lurks in the

depths of depravity,

of the sadistic and a

viciousness that

destroys the


he’ll spend 30 years in

prison: separated,

secure, safe: the life-

sentence was handed

down to the little girl’s


wild birds and animals

prey on the young and

vulnerable for

survival, not for such

sick satisfaction:

we, as a species, may

walk tall

but without doubt

dive to hell and

bring it alive

back to earth.



John D. Robinson is a UK poet. Hundreds of his poems have appeared in print and online: he has published several chapbooks and Uncollected Press will shortly be publishing his first full collection, Hang in There.

In Association with Fossil Publications