I ride the path by mouth
and nothing more
The pen is dried and tears
have taken a road by south.
Who should feed my vagrant words
they starve at day and flee by night!
And detours, forked by white S paces
And pregnant pauses give birth
to tiny doubts upon my ink!
I watch the children drown there.
A fountain in the square of town
is where I dip my quill,
and the Crier shouts,
“Oyez, Oyez, Oyez!”
Remember all the good souls!
:: 08-23-2014 ::
I would fear for the world,
yes, I would fear.
If not for the smile
of your kind soul.
I would fear for the world,
yes, I would dear.
but not for your soul,
you’re Love — I’ve told
I would fear for the world,
yes, I would fear.
If others were not so lucky
to find one as you.
But there’s no fear
when there’s love,
and even a snowflake
could survive hell.
:: 08-26-2014 ::
I mouthed the morning,
and dew and petal!
I ate the soil but not
the bee, but even thorn!
I saw the gnome too,
inside a root of tree!
I kissed his conical hat
and kissed his feet!
This I did all before
but never in my sleep!
:: 08-26-2014 ::
My dreams! Oh! My sweet dreams!
Each night so many scenes!
I dip my eyes into ink-night
and blink and there’s the stage!
The actor’s call and there we are!
All our lines thrown to the winds,
and the props do change on a dime!
Last night I kissed a whale —
and then flew my car into the moon.
I laughed and then I cried tears
as I turned around and saw Mother Earth!
It’s a lump in your heart when you see
no countries or war or death,
and only one world as a whole!
My dreams! Oh! My sweet dreams!
:: 08-26-2014 ::
There you were, locked
in a wintry summer
that long cold
volcanic winter
by Mount Tambora
eruption
You spewed German
ghost stories
by German-French tongue
Your th ou ghts
fragmented
by the silky touch
of cold
a kiss from abyss
to heart
And you, Mary!
Born the Modern Prometheus!
And what say you, maker!
Mot of the clay of monster
but the soul within!?!
A brilliant mind of prose
Imagination beyond the horror
you created that day
A literary monster itself!
No thing that dispose!
:: 08-21-2014 ::
Countess
Elzabeth
Bathory —
Psychosis
or remedy
for tuberculosis?
You — eccentric
woman of red
drank the souls
of all the dead
And Mary Shelly
licked the dreams
a color of Carmine
— raw pigment
of creativity!
:: 08-21-2014 ::
I HAD a poetry club
but they all got fired.
The strip club said
I was taking away
all their business.
:: 08-21-2014 ::
Microscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis
I ate you in all my youth…
buried my face deep inside
The depths of your soul
inside mother earth’s
vaginal soul!
I smoked two packs a day
but lived and worked
deep inside between
her thighs — mother
Silicone of death
and I hear…
a murmur of love
she loves me
And I love you!
could you let me
If I said I cared for you!
microscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis
Words, so lovely trip us
long love and life
I keep talking to you
and I want to know…!
I dug inside your soul
and fed you my heart!
So I want to know
what’s the name of the game
So small and large
I ate you and died
but dear lover…
tell me you love me
I dug inside
you ate me
I loved you
and now
We’re one
:: 08-21-2014 ::
I ride the path by mouth
and nothing more
The pen is dried and tears
have taken a road by south.
Who should feed my vagrant words
they starve at day and flee by night!
And detours, forked by white Spaces
And pregnant pauses give birth
to tiny doubts upon my ink!
I watch the children drown there.
A fountain in the square of town
is where I dip my quill,
and the Crier shouts,
“Oyez, Oyez, Oyez!”
Remember all the good souls!
:: 08-23-2014 ::
I built an edifice
of glory
by the fountain
near the river
I sweat the tears
and the labor
I made my home
by the gallows
E la mia vita, come
i momenti …
appendere dall’illusione
[And my life, like the
moments…
hang by illusion]
:: 08-21-2014 ::
E.P. Robles | Poetry 
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