Month: January 2015

Beyond these walls

When I first woke
There was nothing but you within these walls
Nothing but you beyond
I was content
In your fairy tales
And promises of damnation
Should I fail.

But I was born to fail.

One night Eve offered me up her tempter
She asked me
“Do you want to touch him?
Do you want to taste sin?’
Oh yes,
I knew there was something beyond these walls
And this life was no longer for me.


Sweet Child O’ Mine

Everyone has fantasies. I’m convinced of this, even if they aren’t talked about or even denied. Writers likely fantasize more than the average person. I shouldn’t say likely, I am sure of it. We have to, its how our stories emerge. Most of mine are in an imaginary land, with imaginary characters. Some of those fantasies are worth sharing and that’s how stories are written.

But I do have “real world” fantasies too.

I had a discussion with friends over drinks about odd fantasies. (Dangerous combination, I know) Everyone thought my Axl Rose fantasy was hilarious. It’s not a sexual fantasy. No I never had sexual fantasies about Axl. But I did use to fantasize that he was my dad. (Of all things) This probably started when I was about 13 or 14 and I was beginning to realize how strict my own father was and how royally fucked I was if I ever wanted to do anything fun before the age of 18.

So I used to fantasize that Axl was my dad. (Sweet child of mine was written for me btw, although Axl got my eyes wrong. They are green and not blue. I don’t hold this against him. As a writer I understand how ‘she’s got eyes of the bluest sky’ sounds way better than ‘she’s got eyes like green grass.’ )

I figured I’d be able to do pretty much anything I pleased. I imagined myself sharing a bottle of whisky and a cigarette with Slash back stage at a concert. I could have a piercings and tattoos and cuss as much as I wanted. I mean, shit, the man pisses publicly on planes, what the hell was he going to say to me?

One of my friends pointed out that if Axl had really been my dad I would be way more fucked up than I am now. But I was like, who cares? I’d be rich, and Stephanie Seymour could have been my mom, so I’d also be super hot too. If you’re rich and hot who cares if you’re balls to the wall crazy?

A few of my friends still refer to Axl as ‘”Heidi’s dad” Well, you never know. I do not remember my conception, and our hair is kind of similiar.

Being Human

Because we are human

We will always lust

over what we cannot have.

These gold rings are a trap

A “who’s going to take care of you

when I’m gone?”

No one, love.

Someone will

Snatch your guts out right from underneath your skin

and grin

as they tie them in knots.

Oh, so how I hate the flesh

Tasty sweet  man meat human flesh.

Your flesh messing with my head again

And so it begins

Go ahead, commit a sin.

So it is only my mind that creates the trap

A “who’s going to hurt me

when you’re gone?”

Someone will

Someone always will.


The Willies

Jo Robinson

Firstly I have to say that I’m not in any way religious. Not in the normal way at any rate. I do believe in a greater power, and I also believe that each of us has a purpose – something or things that we have to learn, do, or share along the way. So. I research a lot of old myths and legends for my Shadow People books, as well as ancient building sites and so on. I’ve been doing a lot of digging around about free will, death, the afterlife, reincarnation, angels and demons again too, and now I’ve given myself the proper willies. When I was writing Echoes of Narcissus I kept on thinking that some malignant narcissists are actually demonic entities inside. Having known my own, and seeing a couple of videos online they very often look and sound the part. Even if they’re physically gorgeous, it’s…

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More editing

I’m back to editing this morning. I meant to put “A Destruction of Angels” down for a time but I can’t seem to do it. I can hear Medusa’s snakes hissing at me. Do you ever get to the point where you feel satisified with your work? That it feels good enough?

I can’t figure out if this is lack of confidence, or over-confidence because I feel like I can make it better.

I also want to start on the sequel (while writing some Greek mythology shorts) I’m kind of excited because I know its going to eventually lead into this post-apocalyptic world. I haven’t tried anything like that yet and I’m stoked about it. And nervous.

The feed back from my betas so far is that my world building skills need work. No, no one has come out and actually said it, but by the questions they ask I can tell. So this after Aarmagedon world I’ll be creating will be a challenge for me.

The jar

I kept him inside a jar
I wasn’t cruel about it
I poked holes in the lid
And kept the tapping on the glass soft
Most of the time.
He said he couldn’t stay long
I screwed the lid on tighter
and insisted he tell me some flattering lies
Like my rhymes are clever
and I have pretty eyes
One time he said that I was beautiful
For that one I gave him two juicy flies.

But then he escaped
Like he always said he would
I still keep my empty jar
Waiting for him to return.

Lyrics in the asylum

It’s as if time didn’t change us
Only kept tricking me
New year
New born
We must be better now
Older, wiser, kinder
Awe, but time will heal all our wounds
You’ll see
If we live long enough.
I just kept seeing waste, waste
and poor Chuckie
With his wrists stapled shut
Some pill kill me, or better yet
You do it sweetheart (you do it so well)
I can’t tell you anything
Without feeling selfish
Can’t keep it to myself without feeling
And all I taste is bitter, anymore
You see Charlie Brown grew a fucking beard
and tried to burn himself alive
Can’t believe in anything
Not anymore.
Even pretty girls try to cut their throats these days
And ugly girls…
Well, I don’t know what it is we do.

March 27, 1998

A night with Medusa

I’m been playing around with my Medusa character as a bounty hunter/assassin more and more. I had intended only to write that one flash fiction but then I started really liking her. (Plus I needed a break from my other project) I really like the idea of this beautiful woman who has to hide her face under a mask if she wants to be in public. It’s a lonely existance having to hide what you are all the time. The only one she is able to truly be herself around (and show her face) is the Devil as he is immune to her curse. Plus to him her snakes are a turn-on. Of course he cannot be trusted and does nothing kind unless it will benefit him in some way.

Her services are in high demand and not all her work is entirely ethical. I’m sure most people can think of someone they’d like turned to stone. A cheating spouse can make for a lovely yard ornament.

I’ve seen Medusa many times as a supporting character, but I haven’t seen too much of her as the main character. Anyone have any books or movies they can point me to? I also need to brush up on my Greek mythology.