A most elegant broken-
gait melody by key
my melancholy love,
Nocturne #15 in
F Minor speaks
my dusty soul,
Opus 55 #1.
My soulful pain
written in tones
by the romantic
one named Chopin
Showed me his room.
Said, “sit anywhere.”
“I saw no chair”
so I walked upon
a road isn’t it good?
Tonight alone I saw
the bright moon
so good.
I slept in a burrow
and woke up good.
:: 10-13-2014 ::
TO SURVIVE I EAT
To survive I eat
dead things…
everyday.
As a poet i am departed
from flesh into spirit
and speak the answers
My nemesis,
on the other hand,
eats things till
alive and breathing!
Sol whisper words of wisdom
and become one with me.
:: 10-13-2014 ::
A butterfly flowing over her skin?
Will it satisfy her in many ways?
Oh, nature has its own voice,
and as a butterfly, I see the stars
looking different today…
Sitting upon a wooden branch,
watching planets turning blue.
Flying as an astronaut butterfly,
I sense there’s something wrong.
Ground control ~~ give me nature,
while the moon revolves around
Earth…
Within your electric hands, space,
time, and moonage time, baby,
light the thing holy upon me,
make me realize you care.
With your mascara electric blue
eyelids, break out in a moonage
dream and tell me all your secret words.
As astronauts, we walked upon Mars,
looking back at the tiny point of Earth.
It’s a Holy Place to be, so make me care.
So far away, butterflies around the moon,
and a space station arcs away.
:: 08.05.2023 ::
 | 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 