little be my Soul
what thoughts
do bring joy
a misfit my heart
that tripping
-forgiving debt
of my strange life!
To swear i saw
the cosmos
within your eyes
this i keep
to myself!
the little-Be Soul
of my tragic heart
and Poets Know;
Life is but an Art!
:: 02-10-2015 ::
AND potential forgiveness
the caught hook in a throat!
A painful pulling somewhere
between soul and heart
I choose the Ghost
who repeat in Song
“Life! That which I lost!
Over promises of empty boxes
shaped like a heart!”
:: 02-10-2015 ::
AND there within
the world
of a drop
tears falling
and history too
the memories
of all sweetness;
the songs and art
and writings
like poetry too
and like all things
that falling
eventually resting
deeply within the shelf
of universal consciousness
:: 02-08-2015 ::
WHEN long, long dreams
stridently strolled
within a meadow-briar
soul-Sole waking
came upon a brightly
-bright speck of Golden
little lighting spot!
And thumbFinger gently
raised it toward
sky and evening stars!
And so, little spot
now the light of all
the worlds; so the sun!
And we choose our love;
some pebbles others
shadows and sometime
a great Light that brightly
burns warming Souls!
:: – ::
and the homeless sing
while lost dogs howl
“loneliness is a friend
that keeps me warm”
And the moon says,
” All so sweet but so sad!”
i last had a Friend
named Armstrong who
visited me in 69!”
And like the poorest
they find kindness
in simple surroundings
and they never had
life so good for
a Saturday Night!
while the moon looks down
as an old man sings a sad
but sweet lullaby of love
:: – ::
i saw so quiently
within a dream
next to Rome burning
a thousand years ago
and next to a machine
of blue-gold humming
in my head
the thought machine
allowed me,
“we’re here to serve
you in your flesh”
i always scream when
my humanity wakes up
before the trip
Who are you? Who are you?
i don’t think i ever knew
your name –it’s so like
flesh but Machine
seeing human history
and all without truth –>
Or ever sharing dreams
Human or Machine?
so like you, so like you,
so like you
so like my ex-girlfriend
:: – ::
when they come
with hands of dirt
from solemn sleep
so, they come
one-by-one too
they come, for all
forgotten dreams
the never-bee’s
humming buzzing
with hands of dirt
from solemn wept
a life that never lived
:: 02-05-2015 ::
I have just visited love.
somewhere in vast time
above, below, and then
a white-light shed life!
a something through tinted
eyes as deep as six floors
and then I stepped into life.
And that flutter-seasoned
simple-lips she cried.
I begged to cross the street
all of me cried. The grass
of paradise too high!
And dreams grow forward
and so up into the skies
then leap from one another!
So the dead may lay dying
floating high, still higher!
A face of mortal yearning.
In the pale-drained yielding sun
we create hues of stained glass.
I stepped down upon the world
and met my mortal life.
:: 02-05-2015 ::
When i swore today
on a still summer
edge come flowers
to play
So long ago
i haven’t been
home for so long
and in a shape of man
the snow was gone
it’s the sleep of the dead
and a letter of some summer
like a dusty road
his body wore nights gone
all within snow. And fairies drew near
I saw them dancing in the leaves
and eerily played in rings
My soul grew not to fear them
And i was taken to a place
the Hall of All Knowledge
to play with to-morrow;
and death holds my heart no longer
and when i swore today on a still
summer edge come flowers
to play — so long ago
i dream to be to-morrow
only the heart knows!
:: 02-05-2015 ::
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E.P. Robles | Poetry 
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