If thought a thing
not seen or smelled
// an utterly impossibility to tell//
And sight and sound are seen and heard
But kindness and mercy
so felt and loved;
sure as shirred — the heart
an egg without her shell!
:: 04-29-2017 ::
Author Archives: EPRobles
About EPRobles
IF THOUGHT A THING
BUILDERS OF REALITY
“Time drops all these moments as
decayed, spoiled riches.
And vibrating strings of light
dance the tip of Souls while
enjoying the orchestra
of all life!” — E.P. Robles
—
[Too late; as late as it gets thought I.]
Upon this very late or very early
morning while i began to realize
i left my dreaming snoring then upon
a glint from parted curtains I was certain
a something queerly missing ~ or should
i say amiss.
There, upon the fabric of dusty thoughts
while peering out my window pane
i came to see a dastardly scene that
almost certainly brought me to my knees!
There upon the shrouded street
were many short blue-clothed things
busily erasing each moment as it passed.
Unbeknown that “i” was one between
the ‘there’ and ‘here’ they froze
all the while i stood and stared;
“Oh no oh no!” they screamed at me
squirming then churning they moved
and rebuilt the past you see
and found myself in bed again
and all ends well that begins
and all beginnings have always been
–endings are myth!
:: 04-20-2017 ::
O BLUEDARK WHY LASTING
O blueDark why lasting Ever splish-as-echoic budded by her beautiful i’s is wise When upon the bleeding last drop light ~ my life Chord shivers burning icePas- shouldn’t we kiss each other’s fireBor- nMoods before dri pp ing Time drops squenchPinch this moment. :: 04-16-2017 ::
WITHOUT ALL THE FEAR
all of our days:
a freedom to love
a reason for life
all of our dreams:
a season to be
the meaning of us
and all the world shouts
“There’s no space between us
cheers, laughter and tears!”
and then we kiss and hug
and the shadows flee away
living is life without all the fear!
:: 04-16-2017 ::
PITTED MUREX
if i am to be vacant of companionship and communion with you then all has been my own dream. i have dreamed of a field spread-loved by graceful golden wheat and you, the wind which caressed a life-war torn spirit; trembling hands. my own as-had as dreams as worn as ancient book bindings ~ lost within the smolders of everywhere. was youth easy when anchors were drawn upon the bow and all waves were frolicked star crests upon our arms? picking up the discarded shells of the battle front-life a patch of beach-white untouched by strife; i picked up a pitted murex and placed it next to my heart. :: 04-08-2017 ::
AND IF NOT FOR
and if not for the melancholy pebbles lining our narrow path and if not for the bruised-throated mourning birds' sorrow how else if not through faith how else if not through love that all shadows can stand that all light within be strength and if not for God an impossibility and if not for Love an impossibility! :: 04-08-2017 ::
HE PULLED HIS FORTY-FOUR
Tiny Tim with droopy eye went out
with corpse-woman (she’d heard
he’d died)
Had a cigarette between two finger’d
bones called life and when living
ladies heard he’d died the world
began its wailing from the other side.
LAPD roped off the scene but the
ribbons were too low for ghosts and
all his demons. Detective Mister
found his bloody revolver and no cell
block too secured assured for dead
men so police offricer said, “Tiny Tim
was too beautiful but he died today;
the judge had verdict match the
coroner; misadventure in love case
closed casket so move along move
along my fiends.
:: 03212016 ::
FUNERAL OR VICTORY
No youth or age hides from an eternal rule:
the touch of vulnerability by which all creatures of Sea & Land
bayonet->all|sides| of the same chordTingles confusion
the brainsBROken-spoken politeness revealed by natural light a
sewn-skin upon a parched vacant Post-sign by-wild(er) words (ok)_.
So We cry. A miracle so difficult! And then blew my eyes saying,
‘Dead is a miracle feeling no pain’
toward my pain feeling long history//the banality of insanity
rolled a beach ball by the hand of God-Bless i wish to know
those secrets He keeps away keeps unto the majestic miracles -Father;
we children cry when we see
the End of Loved Ones we
believing YOU: funeral or
victory!
:: ~~ ::
WHEN I SPEAK TO YOU
<grinning>
oh hello hello
could it be you’re
looking for me?
and I’ve got oranged
stains of summer
bleeding upon
my knees
hello?
what moves you higher(
a chilling ride) ?
adults say what
they w(on’t)ant</frowning>
i’m more the same
like life’s (say-u)
vibrations which move
my hands And
we watch the dolls
we watch them cry (it’s
theday
ohyes it’s the day that
the free died and the
living tried to say,
” i’M TRYING!” SO toDay
i pulled the trigger
today i tried
to claim
‘all theTrialsofmy
brothers & sisters) AND
fate said, “all arms inside
of you so you don’t die”_
so one More time Around
the, “Merry-Go Down”
:: 11.18.2016 ::
MY ANCIENT SOUL UNRAVELED
i try to ignore the dreamy steps with their gaping eyes staring,
undressing me until no flesh is left, nor bones.
Life.
Again, i try to ignore the sound of a train-like roar
as this soul of my own walks the cracked broken rails
of living this citrus -orange life…
of picked Memories,
like the ink that enchants me as though each character strung-out
is as a pearl necklace with a hint of ocean’s salty tears,
and no longer a need to ignore.
As i watch, i catch the grand sight
of my ancient soul unravel as flotsam
and spirit as jetsam into that mystery
we deeply have begged to know!
I select you.
:: 01152016 ::
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E.P. Robles | Poetry 
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