Author Archives: EPRobles

About EPRobles

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Writer, Artist. I like to paint abstract acrylic images onto canvas. I love to read everything, and I especially enjoy science, philosophy, and the arts. I'm new to the blog experience and I very much enjoy it! I hope to learn as much about all the features that WordPress offers and thank you -- my visitor -- for taking time to read my words. Peace and love...

EMBRYO BORN SPLAT

AGAINST the cymbals of echoing blasts
became the embryo born-splat.

The squeals were louder than priests
calling for money upon silver plates
clanging with the clank and claps ensued
STD is the mother of lost souls craving
crunching love.

Yeah. Well.

WHEN i was sleeping but dead-living bangs
ding swish and swooshing rafters of whiffing whizz.
how the heart can ache after it is dead.

fwoosh.

Buzz and barking angry flies. went the mumbling brook;
warble song above a tree branch near the echo moan of yesterday.
where i lay.

Now. All alone.

:: 10.07.2021 ::


WHAT IS LOVE THAT LOVE DOES?

WHAT is love that love does?
Oh n’ver dies!

Shall by choice or cupid’s whim?
Our hearts decidedly care thou
art more lovely than itself as Life.

As when and then everywhere as rough winds
change life as furious seasons may,
as processional change touch brilliant stars
and as summer’s lease hath too kindly
memories of love without losing.

To be half a part of what life gave
this by chance or heaven’s course
untrimm’d; what o’ love is love
that love does?

oh n’ver dies!

:: 10.05.2021 ::


MY MOTHER AND OUR LOVE

MY MOTHER said she loved me
and bar tended drinks to keep
me clothed.

AND ONE NIGHT: she was raped
and I fought two brute men
and they destroyed mother
and me.

I wept. She wept.

The howl of despair ate
our Souls.

Then there we knew humanity
and all its pain within our
heart.

She died recently.

I died then. Many years ago.

:: 10.03.2021 ::


FLESH MACHINE

THE armies of nations move forward and the women
with their babies — fear.
The Light of my last night from a window with
my wife blinks out
like an eye within the night:
i am everything and nothing: I shave a last time
while she sleeps requires no more tears — no more fears.

i feel the heat of a sun down the road; orders and marching boots into the womb
of death so i say the light of my last night with silent screams and no more tears
. None. Mouth of steel and AI mind eats human flesh today — listen,
tired hearing you scream: no time to talk about my love. I can EAT
your memories if you walk into my path — save yourself. How the world
became this WORLD IS DEAD. Hide within shadows and hate yourself.

Listening to mourning souls like you makes you my prisoner — like a
turtle finding the ocean. Pray for God’s mercy if it makes you feel
human but feeling sorry makes you meat and soul now; the machines
eat and you should never give in to them.

rEASON with humans and hearts –> refuse machines.

:: 08.04.2020 ::

FLESH MACHINE

THE armies of nations move forward and the women
with their babies — fear.
The Light of my last night from a window with
my wife blinks out
like an eye within the night:
i am everything and nothing: I shave a last time
while she sleeps requires no more tears — no more fears.

i feel the heat of a sun down the road; orders and marching boots into the womb
of death so i say the light of my last night with silent screams and no more tears
. None. Mouth of steel and AI mind eats human flesh today — listen,
tired hearing you scream: no time to talk about my love. I can EAT
your memories if you walk into my path — save yourself. How the world
became this WORLD IS DEAD. Hide within shadows and hate yourself.

Listening to mourning souls like you makes you my prisoner — like a
turtle finding the ocean. Pray for God’s mercy if it makes you feel
human but feeling sorry makes you meat and soul now; the machines
eat and you should never give in to them.

rEASON with humans and hearts –> refuse machines.

:: 08.04.2020 ::

THE armies of nations move forward and the women
with their babies — fear.
The Light of my last night from a window with
my wife blinks out
like an eye within the night:
i am everything and nothing: I shave a last time
while she sleeps requires no more tears — no more fears.

i feel the heat of a sun down the road; orders and marching boots into the womb
of death so i say the light of my last night with silent screams and no more tears
. None. Mouth of steel and AI mind eats human flesh today — listen,
tired hearing you scream: no time to talk about my love. I can EAT
your memories if you walk into my path — save yourself. How the world
became this WORLD IS DEAD. Hide within shadows and hate yourself.

Listening to mourning souls like you makes you my prisoner — like a
turtle finding the ocean. Pray for God’s mercy if it makes you feel
human but feeling sorry makes you meat and soul now; the machines
eat and you should never give in to them.

rEASON with humans and hearts –> refuse machines.

:: 08.04.2020 ::


SCENT OF AUTUMN NIGHT

October darkness without a moon
a winterless space within hearts
what dreamy spine against thick
sunset nights.

perceiving fingers upon a piano
crying notes and cascading centrifugally
expecting silly — clumsily thumbs.

oh, e.e. how you enter thisMIND of mine:
“i feels so lonely fer duh good oledays we
spentin’18 kicking duh gutsouta dem
doity foreaters an humpin duh swell janes on…”

 My waving floating blue fin tuna eyes —
hook and flotsam death.
  It really bust be Nice. never to
have no body or imagination) never to never
wonder about guys you used to( and them
slim hot queens with damn next to nothing.
   loving skin and soul and lips a kissin’
the sun and moons beyond our imaginations.
Oh how time and space and in between we
gore the pleasant feelings of flesh-life;
living just a small moment here and now.

Praise!


INSIDE MY FOOT

Fell down inside my foot  & wonder’d
will i ever be secured?

Ate the poems and children’s stories
of childhood and hung upon the chord
of my insecured    LIFE.

Butterfly poet blurry eyes — what we
think — and wish upon those good ole
days //superluminal light \\
    how organs inside our bodies
play music like an ancient orchestra
upon a wooden floor.

I want to be with mommy now.  She gave
me love and without mysterious energy
: i sometimes remember her smell when
before she just died all i remember is
her smile and love.

\ i wish i could hug just one more time/
oh turn back time to those old days
when she was my age — so stressed out.

now burning a candle of my words
now my name is clearly insane
to those days when mother sang
and those were the best of days

:: 09.28.2021 ::


A HUNDRED POEMS – 080

I did it!
TO STEAL THE light
that child i am, so!
[lay] i did for me.
and myself? cried.
Did you feel the rivers?
i fed it my happy tears
drowsing water inside a
deep throat! and me/my
child-me ran we did! Upon
as ghosts upon field of
my dreams and life smelled
like daddy and mama clothes
clean: wind-swept dried
souls now dead.


A HUNDRED POEMS – 071

Does the wind weep at missed opportunities?
Never contemplated – less seen –
it knocks an entrance upon nature’s door
a friendly visit upon life’s shores!


A HUNDRED POEMS – 052

MY thoughts SO LARGE
an undetermined size
One below the trees
as another above skies!

The elements, they shape
that which perceived
and the rest by humanity!


A HUNDRED POEMS – 051

TODAY I saw creation in that act of submission
with my human hands / a crafted answer
– did I do
not of God’s-breath nor cosmic fire-brew
but through passion a deeply–passion dew
my works of art, alive!

A life longer than my own
my love, to you I give
what is love if not art than
only my simple beating heart.