NATURE states what natural beings
do -=-
that season of pause
between sunrise sunsets, & lastly come?
the tending of maturity’s
sun
:a role berates the youthfulness
of life, then takes a toll
and overworked/ i know i know\
not of spirit but body!
My dying soul.
:: 04-04-2014 ::
Sometimes uh
sometimes love
melts inside love
and how love came down
to touch deeply
for many forget safety
Oh weep.
Please don’t kiss me so sweetly dear
oh do not touch or embrace my shadow
cause i’ll make you cry centuries
while flowers sprout these tears
feed dirt inside your soul
_______<+>
Baby oh baby coo’ing
and when you look inside eyes
your hurt is inside tender hands
not my arms — how i cannot understand
as a pure artist i see colors and hear
songs by clouds and weeping winds
— all within my heart: lies the
snake called Robert//hiss\\ i hear
you squeal again lovely one.
No disgrace no ageless stinch only
how we scream again — BABY COO
COME AGAIN and be my friend as sometimes
in my skin i pray how no one knows
; how space and time are just thought
bending memories://|| release come
oh won’t you come: release your dreams.
:: 10.29.2021 ::
SKIP shoe gum eye-dog wait he is as together as
gangster song word-cornflake and stupid dirty
boy; mister police little flea screaming how
blood sits on the corner of circle K stores;
hey yellow Custer-general fish eye’d
naughty girl: sasquatch coat inside an
English garden waiting for the sun
koi fish moping for fresh water inside
this crazy world
I am THE WORDSMITH TEXT-PERT JOKER
SMELLING how pigs squeal for Eiffel Tower
Edgar Allen Poe e.e. cumming days —
Shoop /channel/cost/life\ —- entertaining
devil dragging humanity (naughty people) by
their heart and weak minds. I saw you sitting
in an English garden waiting for me.
I AM THE WORDSMITH TEXT-PERT JOKER SMOKING
JOKER WATCHING you — crying inside surreal
cloud and praising false gods you created.
I AM THE EGG MAN
I AM THE WALRUS
soop…shoop. hah ha ha ha ha (everyone
COME)
shoe gum eye-dog
w-ord-cornflake police little fea.
:: 10.29.2021 ::
Love is more than art
it is The sensation.
A feeling of being,
where even when we
all can cry!
The towers by the falls those leaning stalks
gleaming crystal objects are devoured by the calls
whose blinking balking meanings melting neglect
What that stands tall remains forever —
nothing…
Oh! No thing at all!
::eprobles::
A piece of the sky _
ate my heart
in silence oh no mother yes, everynight.
i was always born left of wrong and further into
this ever-night of howling moon. No matter what i do___
and the river loaded with questions and babbling brooks
speak, “if you’re dead too love me too.”
I’m going up and going down and screaming love for life
and tearing at my brains — oh, my memories kill.
How my body died before i was born __ how my wings melted
falling down toward Earth and wondering why oh why
did i ever fall here upon the small rock called Earth?
Oh. Yes, a piece of the sky ate my heart in silence.
:: 10.29.2021 ::
I did it! I stole the light!
That child I am — so [lay] I did for me
and myself cried /numeric Queen:
did you feel the river? I fed it happy tears
and my child-me ran we did! Upon the fields
of our-my dreams and life smelled
like laundry clothed wind-swept dried souls
hopes lopped hypnotized butterflies
_______but i would have never walked upon
the deep dark rivers_____unless in this morning
you held my cold hands: someone saved my life
: i lay low and that child i am – so laid my
head inside (roped and tied) in space-time sweet
freedom butterflies \\\flew away////
into the here and what is now?
:: – ::
I feared a thing untold & unseen
that thing I feared within my mind
a thing too!
Split by half in such unknowns
I strove to know!
Unraveled too which spilled upon the floor!
Imperfect thoughts rolled
from higher ground to low!
Then reality’s curtain fell; my needle tried
to stitch the past when love was good!
But life ran beyond the needle and instead
stitched time within my soul!
 | Damien de Soto on Could I Be |
 | EPRobles on Could I Be |
| Damien de Soto on Could I Be |
| Damien de Soto on Drowning in Fear |
 | romanticallyinclined… on A PECK OF KISSmOuth |
E.P. Robles | Poetry 