and the memory perhaps
a not — return
in me eternally
and i me-my aching
overarching burning
knows emptiness
you have my soul
— my longKiss
machine who without
and i feel no one
feeling meMy broken
soul drags me down
where noThing hurts
:: 10-08-2014 ::
When assassins cry
they run —
hiding within the city,
with white-flags hung
And the banner-regret
furloughed by tears
and storms
torn out like hair
and tears like diamonds
cutting through flesh
— i’ve seen tougher
souls, some men —
in any country everywhere
And kill or be killed
the anthem of death
sung by the lone assassin
Armed yourself you betray
the one who loves you —
she wears the red dress
to cover the color blood
Arm yourself and betray
goodwill should life die
and you cry and run
Hiding within the city
with white-flags hung
and the banner-regret
furloughed by tears
and storm —
torn out like hair
and tears like diamonds
cutting through your flesh
You know my heart and you
hate the target I placed
upon your heart —
you took a chance and now
no one can save you
A white-flag hung for you
are you willing to die?
:: 10-09-2014 ::
She, deep star as though
silence listened — far, afar…
bassLevel destruction slick
which we cannot see stand
the million-year labor like
indolent dreams…
and Majesty’s slick-finger
trigger-killing tragedy
kissing the golden tongue
of the smooth voice-fantasy
Opened doors a path-easy
for corner-cutting fools
what mama said, “Dirty-money
only buys the lies…”
and a broken heart,
We choose our ways
and die fulfilled
keeping lies next
to our soul — just another way
yeah, another way we choose to die
:: 10-09-2014 ::
RELIGION, my savior, my building
my daily ritual!
tingle-foot ant climbing hills
doctrine smacking my tenderSoul
my childLike heart weeping
(tithing for the fools)
save my misguided soul
I shall know I’m saved
when the Preacher drives
a Mercedes in Gold
:: 10-09-2014 ::
I, my love–> err, too!
the dream! dreaming soothes
seemingly! time choose;
luster0rough and dry
and blue (who knew),
one last green wishing
parchment paper stained,
tearing tearing years
that touch yellow-gray
my heart so violet!
smelling wombDirt
in casted SunBlue,
chasing grayClouds
umbeled by beeBe too!
And goldenDisc rim-breasts
pathetic InkStain Paper
rejoicing in your Grace
The ballerina of mySoul
:: 10-09-2014 ::
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E.P. Robles | Poetry 