jhrh

My full name is Robert L. Short

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Remnants of my favourite recipe by jhrh, literature

Literature

Remnants of my favourite recipe

- 1/8 bar exfoliating soap - middle shelf - 1 half-crescent coriander infused lip smudge - wine glass, drying in sunlight - 2 full servings mushroom spag. sauce - freezer, top shelf above cod tongues - 3 pizza dips of various flavours (throw these out, these are horrible) - 1 pillow, well flattened & marinated in ginger - approx. 9-12 strands (curly only) - 1/2 bathing suit, fermented and barrel (backpack) aged in cold water and crisp memories - 1 bottle Portuguese wine, empty - rinse and leave to dry in sunlight - 1 chair, empty across from me at dinner - and just enough burnt coffee for one mug in the morning now. - thoroughly hand mix wet and dry ingredients together in a large mixing bowl. Preheat oven to 375 and pray for her return.

you, through food. by jhrh, literature

Literature

you, through food.

morning snack: a joint - rolled loose from the night before. salty neck sweat and chip crumbs in your bedsheets. a quick scroll. not too long. and a curl back into me. breakfast: a craving. like baguette - stiff and still steaming inside and served fresh with coffee, french pressed -light and delicate. a short story then, where the main character is sincere yet vulnerable. she dies in the end - a heroic death. you put your shoes on. hair a mess. a CLIF bar to go. iced coffee for me. lunch: fly bites on knobby ankles and gravel between our toes. i grasp your shoulders like an apple or hot buns out of the oven. a dip into frigid water. still and holding underneath - it quences our thirst and tightens our bellies. dinner: i taste your skin while you gnaw at my chapping lip. the flesh is tender, cold and fresh. a nibble of your wiry hair as your stomach quivers like it does in a dry heave. dessert: a sad one. in the bitter end of burning candle light. ice cream, half melted and

to the blonde girl sitting in the cafe by jhrh, literature

Literature

to the blonde girl sitting in the cafe

Did it hurt to get that earring through the cartilage of your ear? I wonder if that is a real leather jacket you are wearing? Are you a vegetarian? A pet owner maybe? A Shiatsu or a Siamese kitten, perhaps. I wonder what your thoughts on Hemingway might be or what type of music you might listen to in the mornings. Have you ever watched a loved one suffer? Through cancer, the stomach flu, a difficult divorce? I know how you take your coffee - 100% Colombian with just a hint of cream. I know your name is Angela because I heard your friend calling out to you from the back of the coffee line. I know you read the local paper

A Question from a Troubled Man by jhrh, literature

Literature

A Question from a Troubled Man

they will catch us in the night a heart on fire - flaming life drinking pints of pony piss and spilling lips, stuttering lips upon a filthy counter top. in cheap hotels and rundown pubs full of thick and well-trimmed beards and cheers from aliens and scientists, shedding pipes and cigarettes wrapped in plumes of fishing nets where paintings cry upon the walls. the nightlife creeps out of the corners of coffee tables, percolators, big and shiny empty bottles. breaking time upon the narrow one-way streets in libraries leather bound upon the backs of turtles of poets renowned and in the vegetable garden of the old man's home. h

A Series of Love Poems for Cecila Tallis by jhrh, literature

Literature

A Series of Love Poems for Cecila Tallis

Shall we both submerge ourselves Into the shallow seas, The eyes, the lives, the lies, the Irresistible simplicities of things Such as stone or bone? Shall we both undress ourselves, Remove the ties and binds Of class and family and the leather strapping Which wraps us into separate realms, Forbidding our touch, our taste, Our love? I think of you in metaphors and similes, Cecilia. A frail virgin – White and glistening in undergarments, Stampeding, barefoot, Drifting from my view like a wild horse Moving through the afternoon Unsure of where to roam. Your heavy mane bearing incredible weight Upon your dainty shoulde

I am Faithful, I've Told Them All by jhrh, literature

Literature

I am Faithful, I've Told Them All

i hear it sometimes at the bottom of my heart. down there with the dust balls, the mucus, the shitty love poems, and the unpaid bills. it comes out of all the darkness, shaking the pen between my fingers, trembling the legs and spilling the coffee all across the pages. Laura has said she could not hear it even when i've turned off the radio or television, or stoped the engine from running. neither could Amanda, or Jan, or Kim, or the skinny little asian girl who's name i never bothered to steal. it is louder than the whiskey, louder than the piano down at the bar, louder than the cigarette machines, the hobos on duckwo

The brushing of the teeth by jhrh, literature

Literature

The brushing of the teeth

we had been seeing each other for a number of weeks and the love she made was good. her apartment was rather messy and dank and it smelled of cigarettes and citrus air freshener, but i liked it that way. "it makes me feel much more comfortable, this cluttering of things," she said, while drinking wine on her bedroom floor one evening. "it makes me feel like i am not alone, like there is somebody else who is here who may have just slipped out to buy us coffee or a carton of milk." "i think it looks beautiful," i told her. we stayed up very late that night and got drunk off a couple bottles of the cheap stuff, and in the morning

A List by jhrh, literature

Literature

A List

your dad lost his job at the office for sleeping with the secretary who was also the boss's wife. he became a traveling salesman trying to scheme off sets of kitchen knives he carried around in a little brown briefcase. your small town wasn't big enough for him, so the two of you packed up and moved out here next door to me. your dad began to paint the picket fence around your house white and i heard you listening to the strokes from your bedroom window. you didn't go out much - shy i guess - or embarrassed because your dad sold knives from a briefcase for a living. i came home drunk one night and saw you smoking

A Lonely Writer by jhrh, literature

Literature

A Lonely Writer

I sit at my typewriter in my loose collared work shirt and worn down shoes. The clicking of the keys and heavy pants from my smokey lungs are all that can be heard in my cold and lonely apartment. A cup of coffee grows cold on my desk next to the typewriter as I run my hands through my oily hair in search for something to write about. The silence kills any creativity hiding inside my mind, and the starless sky outside the window of my apartment is void of any hope I may decide to search for. I can feel the bagel I ate for lunch three hours ago digesting in my stomach, churning about with the orange juice I consumed with it like a rusty can-op

The Dogs by jhrh, literature

Literature

The Dogs

I lay atop the sheets of my bed in the early morning hours with a cigarette between the fingers of one hand, a jug of wine in the other - my head pounding like a driving steam engine - while the murderous howls of the dogs drill their way through the brick walls of my apartment. Grace makes us coffee and places the dirty mugs on the kitchen table. The dogs run wild through the room, wagging tails and striking the legs, spilling the brew upon the filthy tiles. The dogs never stop to take a break. They have drank the oceans dry and chewed all the rubber off of our favorite cars. They have covered our sidewalks and gardens w

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Remnants of my favourite recipe by jhrh, literature

Literature

Remnants of my favourite recipe

you, through food. by jhrh, literature

Literature

you, through food.

to the blonde girl sitting in the cafe by jhrh, literature

Literature

to the blonde girl sitting in the cafe

A Question from a Troubled Man by jhrh, literature

Literature

A Question from a Troubled Man

A Series of Love Poems for Cecila Tallis by jhrh, literature

Literature

A Series of Love Poems for Cecila Tallis

I am Faithful, I've Told Them All by jhrh, literature

Literature

I am Faithful, I've Told Them All

The brushing of the teeth by jhrh, literature

Literature

The brushing of the teeth

A List by jhrh, literature

Literature

A List

A Lonely Writer by jhrh, literature

Literature

A Lonely Writer

The Dogs by jhrh, literature

Literature

The Dogs

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Untitled by bluebutterfly11, literature

Literature

Untitled

Satisfaction at it's finest. Who even knows how to live life happy, constantly happy? When daily routines take away inspiration, sinking into repetitiveness looking for something new. Something to draw new lines, a path to an open road for endless adventures with no 6 o'clock wake up call. Life ends and life begins, we're all selfish and don't give a fuck about anyone else. Humanity at it's finest. Are you happy about this rat race? Are you happy about these foundations? Because they're nailed to the ground. Happiness at its finest.

Touch and Go by iamchlorine, literature

We'd Been Smoking Pot by elzorrito, literature

Troy 1 - Mike and Madonna by SuburbianTrash, literature

bears make war. by SpiffyChicky, literature

Literature

bears make war.

I do not love you as much as I would like to because you wouldn't be able to appreciate the simple joys of old Polaroids, found notes, or standing outside in a fresh snowfall. You couldn't read deep and meaningful books in Border's cafe while sipping on hot chocolate and watching artists create beautiful drawings out of oil pastels. You couldn't love cobblestones. You wouldn't understand why I used to believe in third eye kisses, and you didn't appreciate Little Miss Sunshine, so I know you wouldn't appreciate Running With Scissors. You'd probably just laugh because the kid was gay. You'd want to live in the sixties for the VW buses, and I'd

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That's All There Is To That by jhrh, literature

That's All There Is To That

jhrh

About jhrh

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Canada
Deviant for 19 years
www.myspace.com/joeharveysmusic
He / Him

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My Bio

Current Residence: on the rocks
Personal Quote: stay true to yer shoes.

Favourite Movies

good ones.

Favourite Bands / Musical Artists

rararaara

Favourite Writers

rararararaaa

Favourite Games

dominos

Other Interests

black coffee, highways, polariod pictures, salt shakers, & pretty girls

Posts

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jhrh

Jul 21, 2011

it's a hard way to fall

0 min read

glancing back in the rear view mirror i realize your beauty could kill, you know. i know i've let you down, many of you. but i love you all the same.

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jhrh

Apr 18, 2011

smoke me

0 min read

what do you do with your cigarette smoke? do you swallow it? does it make you choke? do you spit it out as some quick witted joke? or are you just trying to tease me?

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jhrh

May 3, 2010

in control

0 min read

You said, "Driver, please, don't go that FUCKING way"

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Profile Comments 192

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Do you live

Barely. I've moved countries (continents, actually). How are you?

www.youtube.com/watch?v=IuUDRU…

fylm

Jun 25, 2016

Where have you gone now

jhrh

Jul 12, 2016

I've been living in London for a year now but am making the move back to Canada next week.

Fill me in on everything you these days.

It's been forever.

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