I kiss the air of night
and never bite the lip
but pin my importance
upon the wings of knights
and the sword of steel
gleaming – reflecting eyes
All my shadows – accusations
and the sight-of-sees
my anomalous life
They come from fears breath –
ing within my heart
I’m a low-down witch,
taking steps not taken
by the shadow of death
no, never taking them twice
Most of which the night
never remembers — sweet stride
and a tithe for my Church
of life
:: 09-26-2014 ::
Stellaric amplifier
cosmoganic
deep orgasmic
[playing] ==> lover
whose thin body
i ate in full
great space surpassed
the future yow-ee,
i beg you, please…
find me, and in a sec
i would recognize you
even though i saw you
just a moment while
you passed filaments
lady…lay-den prayers
oh, when i walk & dream
do i even cross your mind
when I saw you…you were
color and scent and love
just in a moment…
my stellar ampler fire
gently eating my cosmos
:: 09-26-2014 ::
I present the mouse,
it’s scurrying ways,
necessarily to speak,
the theory unique,
a way to transcend
literature and art
all together!
Invading space and
domains of philosophy,
psychology and even
politics!
The surrealist poet,
that holds, like blade,
sublime point and all ways
that which human mind
and spirit communicates
Like the mouse, inside house,
freed from constraints,
convention, logic, morality,
to feast upon aesthetic beauty
I present the surrealist poet,
and the great enigma…
where words make love!
:: 09-26-2014 ::
LYING, that death of many betrayals
TOO, my teeth broken by force
And tongues bleed upon whitened truth
I dreamed the color autumn, like God
for each death, some resurrect
I dreamed the month of December too,
within my lying castle-ice i froze,
the tears, like diamonds but cold,
a jewel for death and not the heart
I dream of love, the month of Life
within a dying wish beside Astoria
:: 09-26-2014 ::
A walk though my valley
and even death —
laughs, and snow-shower
— lives disheveled
sparrows
: hope! it’s very small
my delicate dying paradise!
What’s cold to him
makes that thing live
trip, sliding-banking
death, a thing nothing like
twenty-three and living
in a violent paradise
A universe full of motion
and the power of money
hour after every dying hour
watch out where your talking
the devil smiles sodium lamp
— light in my darkened heart
We’re all living in a delicate
situation, a dying paradise
where mothers and fathers too
contemplate skipping life
for that dying paradise
We’re all living, oh yeah
in a world of hurt and pain
We’re all living, hell yes
in a dying paradise!
Where death is nothing but
a heartbeat away and we sing,
“what’s cold to him makes
that thing live, trip, sliding-
banking death, a thing nothing like
twenty-three and living within
a violent paradise!
:: 09-22-2014 ::
What trust placed — anyone!
Bequeathed garlic fly,
“One, the child, beat,
a jester-cheat, brute!
What soul unknown this world!
“My modesty died in beauty, girl”
I believed the brimstone kiss,
lust laid me, honestly, magically!
And between these worlds, parted lips,
drank the dream of lasting love…
“so believe me, then do not!”
I only understand truth, and love.
Said the pure fly in blue skies —
“Then upturned noses smell fungus!
and in mornings, lonely abdomen!”
:: 09-22-2014 ::
bastards, you — the one,
when glory is ill
like autumn leaf
falling
crashing
down
|
|
V
dead like time,
years,
moments ago,
and now caught
y | elling
o | ut s i d e
u | nderWorld’s door
hearts, shining ships
passing thru
harbors burning
sails n’ver wanting
ship wrecked souls
sinking
|
|
V
down into Davy
Jones’ soul
:: 09-09-2014 ::
all considerations aside
beside my lonely thought
when stuck there between-
inside my mind — that heart
lo
ve
ly
thoughts
what night
devours
and all left,
the crumb
of my single
t
h
o
u
g
h
t
a baited
HOOK
and my
Pisces
bites keeping
all quality
under wraps!
:: 09-09-2014 ::
you have a wonderful
smile…
atomic…
the light of a sunset
before it explodes
across the horizon
:: 09-19-2014 ::
To thee I say,
what is the most
beautiful poem
That kindles your
heart so brightly
For mine heart surely knows
what brings the morning light
and the sing-song of birds
Before me, I clearly see
such prose —
Your heart, face and soul
is thoust most beautiful poem!
:: 09-19-2014 ::
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E.P. Robles | Poetry 
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