I have a devious
minor chord
: it begat life
which I knew —
the fallen stems
of walking
lifeless shadows!
I could hug a
section of any
street if it
loved only me!
and the god-
damn birds
are lovely lean-
ing Songstress
words I am
compelled to die
for! Raw throats
of morning song
— I die.
:: 03-23-2015 ::
It’s the experience
of life that sculpts
the soul!
I too wondered why
then knew! My flesh
spoke too loudly while
the sun baked my fields!
I had the ultimate choice:
to tend to flesh or clean
my own — I choose life
and damn the flesh!
:: 03-24-2015 ::
The morning’s yawn is street-like sounds after
pre-dawn rains. I remove the stems of my waking
body from bed. This day the sun is a lazy un-
procured star that hasn’t yet met her bride but
the horizon hides hungrily behind the promise
of a martial morning. Yet again, today I divorce
last night’s dreams from today’s wakeful place.
:: 03-18-2015 ::
if by the largest mistake
i should find love
then by that mistake
i should be measured by
when mountains have crumbled
and oceans be dry
i shall embrace my mistake
and too, remember my life!
:: 03-18-2015 ::
I read the federalist papers
of your sun-scorned heart
a congress of pin-faced
something like dying babies
and purple smiles dying
in sun-beamed pixie twirls
>>she knew me<<
Yeah! we ate sunflowers
drawing down our clothes
across that vastness field
of lies and dying fleshness
she kissed me on my bruised
bleeding lips >> a personal
note of all the corked-pinned
notes i left when my heart
gasped, “you’re personally
responsible…for my eternally
soul-sucking prose — tongue
and quill dying like i loved
watching silver snail walking
into eternity!”
:: 03-14-2015 ::
we crushed love
being so easy!
just simply
you and me
yes longings linger
just singing,
‘sweet dreams
a dreaming’
we got to keep
dreaming,
a tip-toeing
across hearts
ain’t too simple
but bravely kissing
the sweetest dream
i beamed a sunday
dreaming windows
breathing wind
all across the sheets
of my only loving
i know; and my
stars fading braving
your kiss lingering
all saying maybe
— sweet dreams
i always knew of you
:: 03-14-2015 ::
i better gather
falling tears
in mid-air
a thumbnail
gently places
the weeped sorrow
than screaming
returning home
I am better gathered
into bunches of
bundled love;
more-so than tears
that have hit the floor
:: 03-14-2015 ::
The step I took
forward met
my leaning shadow
to step upon one’s
head is meaning
thoughts shouting!
The step I took
backward sadly
upon the dead shadow
never said I love you!
:: 03-14-2015 ::
after my first glass of Merlot
the world releases its painful
biting grip and although i always
know grass was sometimes green
i never knew just how green can
leap into a heart like a lover
too long separated from her love
kissing once again. And just
because its that way I’ll have
another glass of Merlot.
:: 03-15-2015 ::
 | 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 
You must be logged in to post a comment.