Else-might dithers
between would-could
one slays ambition
while the other
in should-could:
self-delusion
:: ; ::
Author Archives: EPRobles
About EPRobles
GOD-HEAD MATRIX
UPON my tongue since
before birth
a plastic taste;
silicon wafers at mass, a
god-head matrix
that every point intersects
the transparent soul
:: / ::
ONE EYE WITH A WHEELCHAIR
Weird you were you so whisper betray
bring the fear again
bring we drown again
and all how the river is
so pretty dances so
we drink
we smoke
he’s the one of why
all of us drank drunk
you know what it means
oh yeah…
nature is a whore?
mature men are children
little feet run
and adults little
dead children
how this bottle sings
when it’s empty
saying’ don’t know what
i mean’ i am so sorry
i gave a $5 bill to someone
with one eye today in
a wheelchair on 1604
he has no legs
but runs away
i have two legs stay
it says i’m fake gold
i bury me inside a case
of twinkies hoping ghost
likes me so i’m so worn
and on and on i watch the
clock and my flesh decay
slower than my heart
an addiction of life
a miracle i breath
:: 09-04-2015 ::
I KISSED THE PAINT UPON YOUR LIPS
AND i imagine the never-understood
of all insanity; to paint your canvas
like a summer’s day with knowing how
the hills roll and the breeze chills
all of what you \understood / what
i heard you say ,’i suffered for life
and all sanity’ i listened like flaming sun in summer
days of reflection hue and if morning breaks
and amber gray beneath this artist’s hand
i shall still weep because i hear, perhaps i love
you like when on this imaginary day you took
me within your heart but a world as ours
fights how portraits hang in halls of ‘i cannot forget’
and how patrons come to weep
seeing the paintings we crushed
in paint and love: i now think
i know how you tried to say to me
that you suffered all for love
and life: the world never listens
and maybe never will and if you believe in me
and if your mortal soul shall teach me how to live
walking upon a path toward the pond of our love
it’s a day where the heaven cries and the angles
sing: ‘this is what we serve for! Love and how
humans become more than jesters for flesh and the
voice that speaks from another side’
:: 09-04-2015 ::
S W I Z Z L E S T I C K L O V E
i bet you my swizzle stick
i met you upon a wing of butterfly
i wet you taking you with a swizzle stick
i ate the night like a low-tech heart
i swizzle like a staring blind snake
i hissing in the back like blackjack
watching doom in the backroom and whatever
lies you hold true i swizzle from you
swivel neck and a political pride
of Nation heart like polliNATION lip
in my throat then through my heart
you go like tilted stick long leg
bitch makes me a golem rising from the dirt
make me your King confabulated thought
i bet you my swizzle stick
that you’ll love me by the end of day
stirring you all like my alcoholic bliss
swizzle stick
:: 09-04-2015 ::
ZERO EMPTY PROMISE
bits of bitter tears and pheromones
shattered by broken things
called pieces of heart
and those insidiously
convincing objects called
“hope” THERE IS A UNIVERSE
that has none of these:
all within my mind.
The tainted vector rejected
abstract of all morrows
begging error’s atonement
and with hands that have
touched me: vacuumed
tears of crimson stars
a suicide band playing
within my hotel called
torture chamber —
it’s all a ‘something
called darkness locating
my soul’ goodnight kisses
darling/smoking like you’re
no pain — let it rain
:: 09-04-2015 ::
MIDNIGHT SOLILOQUY
sweet fields of tender lies
so softly shining above me
a bird singing in a moonbeam
tears in eyes and dry lips
wishing while alone
i am so blue i see
others talk about god
but never my own – a pity
so sweet is He he says
‘leave all your worries
behind you’
a sweet soliloquy for
my heart and all tomorrows
:: 09-04-2015 ::
B R O K E N HEARTS
To have had a broken heart
is a righteous moment of
appeasement that you
accept love in all forms
To have broken a heart
is a deeper debt of one’s
soul difficult to repay
:: 09-04-2015 ::
EXOGENESIS OF EROS
i saw the seen within you
the love when you realize
how it feels
the poem abstractly direct
and all fallen leaves which
maybe crumble beneath my
dreams analog ascension
exactly toward a beautiful
connection of spirit:
To taste with eyes
to kiss with tongue
because i am the descendant
of all love as you as us
as we as me as all
it is my heart that proclaims
all fiction a rhythm of wind
blowing a story of the beginning
and ending of all stories told
an exogenesis of Eros
:: 099-04-2015 ::
A PRISON CALLED MIND
IT won’t be long before they cut you down
you can run on for a long time until
they cut you down . . .
with all good & gracious news
have you ever heard the saddest story
in a prison — it’s the saddest story
languish in a dark cell
chunks of masonry fall
stealing any sleep you have
is a long-time never been
where dreams evaporate quietly
an easy place to blow up all
your problems and so easy to break
down inside of yourself
i am the halo around an angel
called My Sweetest Death
i am the core of all i know
i am that i am more
i am so happy with the Divine Presence
the source of all my rewards
have you ever heard the saddest story
in a prison — the saddest story
a prison called MIND
:: 09-04-2015 ::
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