THE greatest expression
of emotion is also
mostly feared:
T. E. A. R. S.
e, m, l, e, o
n, o, w, g, u
d, t, a, a, l
e, i, y, i, //
r, o, s, n,
, n,
, s,
:: 09-30-2014 ::
Daily Archives: October 1, 2014
GREATEST EXPRESSION
SPRING SMELLS LIKE LOVE
THE mango kiss when did-lee!
heart fitting /\ sliding
throaty passion ate lay-
in, me my annabelle lee,
silent annabelle lee breath,
i am here and you–here my love?
“always within thee my love!”
my annabelle lee, my love!
:: 09-30-2014 ::
IT IS MY MOUNTAIN
i know the poem
(and many think, too)
licking like lips seemingly,
touching words with no-
body cares for thinking
slidingSloping reading
but mine are climbing
beating thinking breathing
and sundays a god rests
— unless he’s reading
my own heartBeatings!
:: 09-30-2014 ::
SHADOWLIFE FOLLOWS MY LIKE-LIFE
shadowLife, my like-life
follows, one against the ground
and who can understand
the tall-standing one?
in light, together like-be,
at night, absorbed within me
an asylum for two-sided coins
where lifePocket holds a hole
a hatch for escaping Life,
and beauty falls beneath
rushingBusy knees into that
sewer of busy street-life
:: 10-01-2014 ::
WIND PERHAPS LIKE WHEN
wind perhaps like when –then
perhaps a wish thinking-bee
busy pollinating her dreams
of all the blessings which see
golden promises above nights
weaking weeping buzzing tears
that nobody loved this, too
wind perhaps like when –then…
:: 10-01-2014 ::
I SHOULD WANT. TO BE MYSELF
a hand and it’s five fingers
each one a story
that gives emotions;
one for love,
when life is frail
the second for age,
when death tries to steal
a third for romance, when life is young
my fourth a prize-gift, she is next to me
and the fifth for Life, which allows me to remember…
life is my sweetest friend
when i go so does my love
it’s the only thing that’s real
and i have eaten pain, so familiar
i tried once, to kill it everyday
spat at the brilliant sun
and dug my heels into the One
and in the end i saw everyone
go away, like the pain i lived
and now, my broken heart steals
what feelings I had buried
beneath the hate and all the hearts
And I ask, “what did I do, my friend.
I squandered my precious ones,
all for the empty fear that ate
my heart…and I should remember,
when I start again…I should
a want to be myself.”
:: 09-29-2014 ::
VICTORIA(N) (K)NOW(S)
ti(me)
frailly
t(ick)ed
strikingly
killing me
her (man)ner
found t(he)
her(art)
within my
poe(try)
:: 09-29-2014 ::
Recent Comments
EPRobles on OWL MILK AND INDIGO SMOKE Adam Fisher on OWL MILK AND INDIGO SMOKE EPRobles on ECSTASIES OF THE REPULSIV… R. Marshall on ECSTASIES OF THE REPULSIV… Stefan on ECSTASIES OF THE REPULSIV…
E.P. Robles | Poetry 