Author Archives: EPRobles

About EPRobles

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...

Last Chance Last Wish

So we were surrounded
by broken sounds of decayed
days. Few words never spoken
but those we hid so we could
walk away____but when you think
back to when we first me, are
you sad? And all we’ve been
through does it make you cry?
So broken you can’t even
walk away but when you think back
to when we first met are you sad
and all we’ve been through makes
me cry — and all the love shed
to become … THIS.

And the way we are ~ so lost.
And if we’re done then you are
so far away. We’re lost.

:: 12.02.2022 ::


Love, the Hungry Language

AND when i speak it is where love is
in a faint hush breath upon a rosy cheek
and also deeply within the chamber of my heart’s
pallor that succeeds it.

AND there — I do know love’s language which is
that hungry heart within the eyes that resembles life!

And within my quivering skin I see love touch my hands
a thrilling trembling vision!

Love nests itself within the wild woods of human
minds || the glance of lightning deep soulful stillness
until the keen delight of a convulsive rapture kiss is

WHERE LOVE SPEAKS

:: 12072015 ::


We Hide What We Hate

SO you hid yourself within your flower (a perfect world
that threw away today) You, believing and so kind,
that wearing upon your smile you, unsuspecting me, wear me
too — oh, from a perfect world that threw me away
just today And the angels know the rest.

Better make you strong
Better make you fall
Just bleeding like a
fallen storyline
And you: from a perfect
world that’s inhumane
today, today, until
i am so small i will
love you.

And here is the answer.

:: 05-07-2016 ::
:: 11.30.2022 ::


My Words are Gold My Intentions Whacked

AND everyday i’m cool — if i can have your attention
please: if i rest a moment near the well of despair  
wishing young heart’s clean skin like jesus postal fire
my needle: LIKE FATHER’s STEP-FATHER SUN BLOWS!  Such fear!
Yeah yeah oh fuck yeah so stuck in dark heart-break love
wail upon the heart and guitar strings : walking around
so cute grabbing screws and how i hate how Jerry Lewis laughs
when soviet union wants to destroy us (Beaver’s mom sucked
the reason I cannot walk right for a few days)
   Oh! Goldie Hawn on Laugh-In has
perky tits and Mary Tyler Moore
   abandoned her kids:  kill the
messenger carrying kool-aid to Uganda
for that sick reverend:  i love U S of A
and even the world — don’t care about that
i’m a poet who describes the world with words
     —  sure, that’s it.
sure, now in 2020’s we’re animals antelope
without stomachs but butterflies of lies
and France we saved oh wait — the whole fucking world
but your teachers are showing titties instead of teaching
how many of us lost lives so we can dip and rip and trip
and get on a mic and spit ~ so funny, when you’re forty
you’ll see how every single person is a ghost that stands up
saying:

  We’re all the real ones
     fathers and mothers
  children and creatures
 who fought to speak shady.

Come on.

:: 09-02-2015 ::


My Cat Ate Your Dog’s Bone

My cat ate your dog’s bone and i hate how you do that
with your hair _

  Today i found an angel inside my Sunday morning
bagel and my dog found god
   i like puzzles
  like my insides
 i adore me but hate it  and eat acrylic chocolate
and smear it in my hair
  So, worry?  No worries.
If tomorrow is today then yesterday is now
  i am excited because my life’s contusion
is my brain / unscathed is my heart \ so happy
because today my cat ate your dog’s bone and how
every morning you do that : every candle tip o’flame
is a universe of perversion__
yea.

:: 11.20.2022 ::


My Lips are Two Needles

My lips are two needles
sewing moments of Voices
that laugh, scream, and cry

Alas, until the jewelled joy of birds
echo as Ecstasy survives like the mourning
dew as rapturous angelic wings; we cry.

THERE is a fire:  it is within all things.
As all which yearn as mating moods like Spring;
It is not the devil within the details but
joy and perfect passion which smells as
young women who walk beneath a summer sun.

/and pity those thrust-minded thrilling things
who yet have to go around again within a ring
called life;  divine a fathomed tenderness
of those who do not see or hear . . .
those who have no choice but rummaging through
LIFE!

:: 10-31-2017 ::
:: 11.20.2022 ::


Sensonic Mapping Love-Heart

THE urine color odor of your health
confuses a taste-smell of influence

A pleasant mystery of maple syrup Kisses

I die a-beat us!
A DIE a-BEAT US!

We didn’t think of it —
the sweet smell of Chocolate like
cabbage and beef upon a finely spread
sensonic mapping brain.

Maybe it originates
from alpha case-in love
of my never-dying sweet
love for you: overdose
of sweetest life.

:: 12-08-2014 ::


Return to Shangri-La

Oh let the tears fall
down my face and
hearts fill my dreams

i am a soul strong
from a gentle race
seldom heard and never
seen

a gift given me is to see
eternity and understand
eternally

is by no choice
but fate

Words spoken by angels
i cannot translate
but feel the burning grace
so i bid thee farewell
i now return to Shangri-La.

:: 11.15.2022 ::


Summer Smells of Death and Rebirth

AND ponder the dried once-tender
stems of bountiful beauty
of spreading once-color by
nature’s own heart
clinging to a dream
now faded into the soil
Breasts heave and
men shudder by utter
extant fear//life
with the margin of
once-unstained white
A few deleted unspoken
thoughts;dripping
parts of broken dolls
sadly laying to sleep
Spanked and put to keep
by shelves of dust
scolded hearts interrupt
: punished prisoners.

:: 06-13-2015 ::


Rambling Thoughts – i

the windows are open and there is

a storm approaching.  The beauty of it

 all is that my entire bedroom is now

very fresh smelling.  Is that how

it feels right before a storm?  Love?  Maybe death?  

It is very human to attach a scent to a moment that

no longer exists.  And even more human to allow

time to steal them all away.

:: 0323-2017 ::