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...
Silent temple-fEET tread
as though you tread upon
family.
And what! What …
of our moon? Distance between
green and ash white a mere wink & touch!
Which i spoke such at night;
/\
calls me. The time is
too near! Here again, a raging
energy hating war ~ so they sing
and seriously sing not knowing
what it means to humans without
a Soul or that called a Heart.
So sing tonight like a singer
who sings sounds oh sings sounds
of nature that care not how petty
our misadventure — they don’t
know what it means ~~~~ hmm__yeah.
:: 06-22-2016 ::
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THAT I have tried and succeeded is only in great measure
that you have been there with all my fears and displeasure.
Holding my cramped heart and swollen hands is how you have
saved both my mind and spirit – the soul; still intact down
by emptying rivers that lead to unexpected consequences.
And to weep while watching the death of a perfect day and to
realize that birth was only half that day ago is sobering:
we watch each other’s eyes while laying on our sides and
breathing in cadence i tell you that i am a fortunate peasant
and you the Queen who has welcomed my Ghost.
:: ~ ::
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Like a three-legged cat
found myself in a garbage can
rummaging through my mind
discarded cans a popsicle stick
hmm maybe a fourth-leg to fit
i don’t cry any longer
since i heard the life of a
great lyricist died a while ago
so now i live within the walls
of a calloused heart with a moat
of life’s jokes as shark’s teeth
i’m such a slut for life and now
i’m so high i don’t feel sad anymore
all these tears calcified within
the womb of a miscarriage:oh god
the afterbirth sings to me: “never
ask anyone to love you”
:: 09-01-2015 ::
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I should have spoken clearly (i am never eloquently-tongued)
with blue skies singing (i am the smallMouth)
and so i like when the sun moves me
expressing light as nature that moves mysteriously away–> from humans
— whom i loved.
Scattered by my exquisite thoughts the giantSmall meets this
smallGiant heart i captured just today! A brilliance of love!
the remembrance of romance!
She sat upon a bench with a single rose within her tender hands
: where i am is where she is where love bursts frozen-SHUDDERINGLY
kisses across the burning sun is
passion exploding exhilarating us!
I am too this love we share
My eternally EVERYWHERE!
:: 09-01-2015 ::
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Hear our story, then, the story of time past and time future. The story of all centuries since and the stories yet to come. About to fall upon us is the nettles, The nettles, with their soft white stems, there is in each stem a sharp blue spike, Comes upon its prey with a sudden point
And pierces the flesh as the teeth of the nettle Pierce the ribs of a potato. Here lies the rat, struggling, straining, dying, dying, fighting to rise up. A thousand small bites from the nettles have enveloped the flesh of his body, we will strip him, pull him, tear him open, eat him, cut him in half, make him into soup,
burp out his meat and eat.
But this is time past and time future a story of all the centuries since and the stories yet to come.
// – //
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destroy
EAT
devour
is what it
commanded
the Evil
is at times
a Friend &
friend @ times
Evil devouring
Love : is Judas
–the original
Liar.
:: 01.02.2023 ::
Leave a comment | tags: #abstract, #life, #love, #poem, #poet, #poetry, #thoughts, #words, #writers, #writing | posted in Uncategorized
\
what Once I Played Upon
my Guitar //
LIKE a bomb
inside my empty
S K I N
it’s all
gone inside and dreams
oh nightmares of what
IS THE EVENING LIKE
(Me, American Indian)
A BOMB inside my empty
skin . /dear my love.
We sing. Cry, we
weep for All of Humans
and this sense of Time.
As then once simply
ate a ginger man cookie
and saw everYTHING.
Is my Live remembering
all.
Purple is pretty.
Pink Love weak 🙂 i love
you /those\ archeologist
digging me. I love.
And I beat you there.
:: 01.02.2023 ::
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HOW now is yester thing
you could be more than
anything other than
tomorrow | it isn’t this
and not that : love blob
bub buddy = we tried and
sang things we never heard
unsung : i made a pie for
your smile to EAT if y o u
become Easy in time____
i am a silver alien suffering histories
of all life forms lovely Mi-Lelion soon i come
finding our Blue Star and all the jaunty
rocks between my heart!
:: 01.02.2023 ::
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It was mid-summer 1880 and a gust
caught my tan boater then flew
seeking refuge where lost hats go
i startled too much and blushed
then common sense became rage
i cannot ever be your goliath
for such a weak Soul.
:: 12.30.2022 ::
Leave a comment | tags: #life, #love, #poet, #poetry, #words, #writing | posted in Uncategorized
EDEN IS A GARDEN
whose soil knows
not thorns
As Seasons are shadows
that cast upon lives
and dreams
i am not wishing
i am not weeping
i am not dreaming
but i am still here.
:: 12.30.2022 ::
Leave a comment | tags: #abstract, #life, #poet, #poetry, #thoughts, #words, #writers, #writing | posted in Uncategorized
E.P. Robles | Poetry 
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