That blade which takes i took that made what cuts did so did I bleed and took my road: that dust and blood the path my blade had cut for me. My blood your blood my bad my flesh machinery.
i cried aloud to see if the gods were indeed touched by my rage; they did not answer and all my rage is now dust and blood without a single whisper on the sand below.
i did not fall in this glade but it made me fall.
Back to the Restaurant Hip hip ho!
There’s a man in the town who has a silver tongue and so hard to hear, but loud and clear,
he could read the babbles of the natives, they say he can see into people’s hearts
just by looking at them.
That he is wise beyond his years when it comes to the things of the heart, or at least the heart of men.
For this reason we cannot quite explain he is the host of the good banquet and so the heart in the heart of man is a place that deserves his much deserved
tender touch.
What are you looking for? You have asked me many times before. And each time cannot seem to find you. Is it my age? i am an old man. Maybe it is my hair maybe i am ungainly. Perhaps i don’t look the part. The thing is i don’t like them as they’re everything a man should be.
But then there’s a thought maybe they’re trying to eat you. In the middle of winter the sun won’t shine and a man will see only darkness, but the sun isn’t what i mean but you’re a man so you know what i’m getting at.
Of course you do — you’re a man and you have your masculine way of thinking.
Maybe they look different, a lady with makeup she wears it as camouflage as her intentions are to seduce you and are veiled in its many colours.
i am the first to say a woman can’t make a man do anything they don’t want to do. But a man can, a man with a small piece of metal can do what he wants.
If they say no you can leave, leave them be.
But most aren’t like that; they seem to be of that sort, you know why, because most men have never known what real courage is.
i do.
i have it in me.
It’s inside me.
That desire that secret desire that we think will never exist
when we’re a boy.
It’s a lust, a dark lust and i have it. i am a man and you are not.
You look for it though just within you — that thing which you don’t know you had but now you do, and this thing you now desire/ you can’t help but see
it’s in you all along.
It’s you.
it’s me.
it’s her.
We’re all of this and it will only be her.
It’s you.
It’s me.
It’s her.
In the middle of winter the sun won’t shine and a man will see only darkness,
but the sun isn’t what i mean but you’re a man so you know what i’m getting at.
Yes you are a man and you know something else: a man with a small piece of metal
can do what he wants.
There is no need to look far and see what that thing is, or what she has to offer and you’ll know it when you see it.
04.03.2021 ::
E.P. Robles | Poetry 