i have no memory to trigger
for readers of poetry.
i have no memories worthy
for readers of love AND
elevated language? bullshit.
words are words regardless
of degreed wordsmiths.
It is all about emotion.
the words as bridges
the moment within you
the feet walking there.
And that is really what
poetry is about:
releasing personality
releasing flesh.
the rest: bullshit.
:: 10-02-2017 ::
A pain. Inside a hole so far
deeply, no echo.
A morning sun sinking beneath
yesterday’s promises.
And i’m running toward the
edge of a crazy world.
i’m refusing to believe
we all are so very lost
no one has anymore love.
And save me Moon because
like a bright sight you
guide the shores and waves
of all these people; the
scared, tired, and mentally
drained peoples.
Our Earth.
:: 10-02-2017 ::
 | EPRobles on The Flowers Inside of Me |
 | my valiant soul on The Flowers Inside of Me |
| EPRobles on MAY I REST MY HEART |
 | Sadah on MAY I REST MY HEART |
| EPRobles on MAY I REST MY HEART |
