Portrait of a Poet 
S. L. Robinson   
 
 

~ featured poetess 

interviewed by duana 

Coveted

S. L. Robinson's twisted verses seem to be unearthing themselves from dark tombs everywhere.  Her highly coveted creations have been featured in such publications as Dreams of Decadence, Haunts, and Shadow Feast.  Her writing reveals haunting visions swathed by dark whimsical images and the seductive language of words all mixed together in a macabre soup.  They are compelling, in a sweetly tortuous manner—like sex and candy—that persuades the reader to savor them slowly again and again, tasting each savory phrase upon the tip of their tongue.
 

 

Troubled Sleep
 

Escape from
troubled sleep,
though freedom from fear
is not achieved.

Bedclothes on the floor,
still the sweat-soaked
blanket of darkness
can't be kicked off.

Staring at the ceiling
only invites the shapes
hiding in the corners
to advance.

Squeeze shut your eyes
and try to drift,
escape to
troubled sleep.
 

 

Writing is a Disease

S.L. Robinson is a word junkie and writes to keep the writing jitters at bay.

‘Writing is a disease.  I contracted it in December of '92 after a dream of watching television in a house under construction.  Specifically, I was watching a movie based on a non-existent Stephen King novel called "Sweet Chariot."  The images on the TV screen were of a large, black carriage, drawn by black horses, a cemetery, and a tombstone with the head of a woman, her hair beautifully coifed. . . The images inspired my first story (which still needs to be rewritten and marketed) and I became a writer. . . At the time, I was working retail hell with a bitch of a manager who stressed me so much I had bad dreams all the time.  "Blood Bath" came from a dream in which I was a small boy chased down and strapped to the back of an older kid for a game in which the object was to drench each other in blood with huge water guns (like Super Soakers) that drained blood from the victims on their backs. .  In the dream, I felt the blood drain from my veins, my body tingle, go numb, then fall unconscious and die.  Very intense.  With just a little imagination I added a simple plot and set it in the future and behold! my first story sale. . .'

 

 
Dark Dreamer
 

 Hollow laughter, stifled screams
 punctuate dark, cryptic dreams.
 Acrid haze stings nose and eyes,
 effectively blurs my sight,
 though the visions here devise
 to be seen through gloom of night.

 Night after night, shadows press
 to suffocate and caress;
 cool touches threaten to stir
 emotions best not explored.
 My resistance is no cure,
 wishes to wake are ignored.

 Ignored, too, my cries and pleas,
 as they morph to vortices,
 swirling in a turbulent
 tempest to place me in throe,
 guts, blood, muscles sucked out, leaves
 my skin deflated, hollow.

 

 

Obsession

Her obsession with all things dark and creepy began at a tender age.  As a child, she would lull herself to sleep by crossing her hands over her chest and pretending she was a vampire in a coffin.  Although raised by Christian beliefs, Ms. Robinson now embraces pagan values that have freed her to delve into the darker side of her desires.

‘Dark writing came easily because it's what has always interested me.  The erotic part crept in along the way.  I was raised Christian and that's a tough disease to cure when it's all you've ever been exposed to.  It's not until I was able to find my true self as a pagan that I
could confront my sexuality honestly. . .  I would call myself a fledgling eclectic witch.  I don't like to be pigeon-holed into a certain doctrine.  My studies are broad and my mind is wide open.'
 

 
 
 
Widow's Nadir
 

His fervent eyes met mine
just above the topmost lily
on my husband's casket.
 
The unexpected twist
and flight of my stomach sent grave
warnings to my brain cells.

He continued to stare;
I chanced several glances his way
until he knew he'd won.

I could not pretend to
misunderstand when his fingers
signified ten plus two.

Thus, we met at midnight;
my body still draped in mourning,
his too, but not for long.

We fornicated on
the worm-rich soil of my husband's
freshly dug, unmourned grave.

 

 

Style

S. L. Robinson's lyrical style and dark visions were influenced by Clive Barker and Canadian rock band drummer/lyricist, Rush's Neil Peart.  The first book to have a creative impact on her was Alexandre Dumas' The Three Musketeers, which she read in third grade.

‘I was instantly drawn into the medieval world of duels, royalty, rich clothing. . .   It inspired me to pen my own medieval adventures in which the woman could still wear the beautiful brocade and lace gowns, but also have the strength and skill to fight a duel and ride horseback from Paris to London.'

She met her idol Clive Barker three times.

‘When I read "The Great and Secret Show" in '90, Clive Barker became the brightest star in my sky.  Immediately, I was sucked into his warped fantasy world and sought all his previous works and then couldn't wait for his next book.  Then I saw his art. . .  then I watched  his films. . .  then I watched a performance of "The History of the Devil," and, interspersed among those events, I met the MAN three times. . .

The first time was at a Portland book store signing for "The Thief of Always".  In '96 I met him again at the World Horror Convention in Eugene, Oregon, where he drew a demon in black and silver on the red leather jacket I wore at our first meeting.  The third time was in Portland for the book tour of "Sacrament".  He signed it 'To a fellow author'!  Plus, he drew another demon on the same jacket!  Needless to say, it's my prized possession.  Clive rules my world.'
 

 

Understudy
Previously published in Dreams of Decadence, 1998

Red wine
fills the void
as best it can.
Graveyard dirt
flakes from
patent leather shoes.
Black crepe and lace
drape my body
and my mood.
Sunshine is something
I hear of
on late-night news.
A pathetic mortal vampire
since you revoked
your invitation.
 

 

Future

S. L. Robinson's work has appeared in many horror and pagan 'zines,  such as ‘Dreams of Decadence', ‘Haunts', ‘Shadow Feast', ‘Altered Perceptions', ‘Goddess of the Bay', ‘69 Flavours of Paranoia', ‘Open Ways', ‘Luna Sol' and, of course, ‘Blood Moon zine'.  She is a member of Horror Writers Association and Garden State Horror Writers.  She is well on her way to accomplishing her dreams.

‘I would be thrilled to have honed my craft to the point of being recognized by my peers.  This would be achieved by winning a Stoker award from Horror Writers Association. . .  This summer, I'll be attaining one of my goals:   To visit the palace of Versailles.  I would love to interact with the ghost of Marie Antoinette, as I believe I knew her in a past life.'

And of the future she sees herself traveling the world with her husband, with the income she would receive from her writing.  If she could live anywhere it would be:

‘I would live on ocean-front property so I could constantly be in tune with the rhythm of the waves.  The house itself would be made of gray stones and have many, many rooms and lots of windows to let in the light.  Proximity to a cemetery would be a must!'
 

 

Bent on Blood 
Previously published in Altered Perceptions, 1999

I wake from the drowning dream,
gasping for air, head bobbing between
visions and the mundane world,
drunk with too much sleep
like a lazy good-for-nothing;
some would say that's what I am.

I fancy the bloody dream ocean
still coats my skin, drips from fingertips,
cleaves my ragged clothing
to my cold, shaking form.
I thought only junkies got the shakes;
some would say that's what I am.

I prefer to drink the life, but I
wait in line with all the others,
those that dream and wake as I do,
when I acquire cash for a transfusion.
They're all mainliners;
some would say that's what I am.

I hope to steal a set of sharp canines,
the ones they call "Vampire Fangs,"
so I can collect my own, fresh blood,
free from anticoagulant,
as a true, immortal vampire;
some would say that's what I am.
 

 

Here and Now
 

For now S. L. Robinson is content to live in the NorthWest with her husband and two wolf hybrids, ‘Fenris' named from the wolf god in Norse mythology, and Schultz, after Sergeant Schultz from the TV series "Hogan's Heroes", who she calls her ‘big babies'.  Ms. Robinson's love for animals has influenced her professional life as well.  She works as a Certified Veterinary Technician in a 24-hour emergency animal hospital which ‘feeds her need to interact with animals and pumps adrenaline into her veins'.  Although she loves furry animals, furry humans are at turn off, which may be partly due to her love of flannel sheets.  Just imagine the combination of flannel sheets and superfluous body hair!  It's enough to make you shudder! Other than her obvious interest in reading horror, S. L. Robinson enjoys listening to alternative music, and playing racquetball.  She is a Sagittarius, and finds that the particular characteristics associated with this sign which apply to her are the lackadaisical joy for slumber, tardiness, and a preoccupation with multiple tasks while fixed for time.

 ‘It takes an act of the goddess to get me out of bed in the morning, as I always want that last precious second of sleep.  The thing is, I seem to go beyond that last second and end up being late for work.  Even if I'm already up and about, it's difficult for me to make an appointment because I like to work on—whatever—around the house until beyond the last minute.'

 

Eternal Lovers
Previously published in Dreams of Decadence, 1998

Ashen draperies shield
against the foe.
Slumbering, enveloped
in blackest of satins;
perceived safety
until darkness reigns.

As the sky swallows
it's hot evening meal,
fine skin anticipates
a lover's tender touch,
soft neck kisses,
searing, lovely pain.

He rises to the
call of his beloved,
seducing, weakening
his frail steadfast resolve.
Dissolving to
mist, he travels forth.

Window silhouette,
she prepares, tingling,
for his undead embrace,
losing raw innocence
to the promise
of eternity.

Bracing winds escort
a lone swirl of fog
toward passion's promise.
Seeping through the keyhole,
he surrounds her
in a soft caress.

Eager hands delight
in his solid form,
hardening to her touch.
Her own fevered body
melts in response
to intense desire.

Life exchanged for love
as one consumes the
other in a nightlong
feast of sensual greed
until they are
eternal lovers.