Category Archives: #all of me
Wave to me and say, “only one single tear as a symbol of the price I pay for loving.”
Why do I search for that shining Soul I love and search the page for that name
written in the most elegant hand?
And why do I know that one look will last forever
but if I give up this hope it will destroy me?
Why can’t I sleep with my heart in my mouth, like a bell
that rings only for the grave?
The crickets are at peace and there is a choir singing
so now there is no room for thoughts to speak …
and love stops
and love falls
on everything that’s not.
The rain is turning and the water glistens
at my feet with tears mixed with raindrops.
Now the sky’s too bright and my eyes are saying,
“I can’t see through the mist for I am too tall and
too dark.”
O my dreams.
Take me home.
Take me home.
My dream take
me home.
:: 07.21.2021 ::
Leave a comment | tags: #broken, #extreme, #fear, #ink #pain, #poetry. #words | posted in #abstract, #abuse, #aching, #all of me, #alone, #anguish, #art, #poems, #poet, #poetess, #poetry, #prose, #saints, #secrets
Now my Gown and Tulle
feel the Wind that weaves a Shade –
and on the roof i cannot tell
since the picture there is –
because Time, a Form, stood a-hiding
and well It did.
Words and Music (my own)
Performed by James Dale
and Love.
“He is oft-injured by his men
or with their Menages,
‘I think I hear him say:
“His Portents are the Dews –
His Words the Dews – and Mine –
His Ends are Ieya’s.
“I wish this next Scene were ended
with the Destination of my own Fate –
“The Flight of Orpheus, I suppose,
“Off the Coast of Homer’s Folly –
Or Death – to Eternity.”
Futility was King in the play, under the pen of D. H. Lawrence.
I hope he was a reader of Shakespeare.
Well, I cannot write about this.
It is really too late.
There was an early book, and there is always another.
The fact that Lawrence is a poet is very well known;
and many of his poems have been put to music.
i have heard those – sometimes for many times – though
i should hate to go against the dead.
A great deal is being written about D. H. Lawrence
in the second decade of the twenty-first century.
:: 01.26.2021 ::
Leave a comment | tags: #blood, #flesh, #ink, #paper, #poem, #words | posted in #abstract, #aching, #all of me, #alone, #analogies, #angst, #awaken, #beautiful, #poems, #poet, #poetess, #poetry, #poets
SHE can bring love with her smile and devastation with indifference
and ruin faith with the turn of her face;
SHE can bring paradise with her arms and paint masterpieces with her lips
and only reveal what she wishes you to see
SHE can bring passion to your life or steal the meaning of all things
breath the deep blue skies and bring a perfect day
Oh, mystery is beneath her footfalls and how her dress bellows while she
never gives out or gives in — she just changes her mind while promising
the Garden of Eden
So love i followed every motion of your emotion as you took care of yourself
and waiting as you want — ooh, she never gives in while singing angelic songs
and cuts you while you bleed
Hmm, hmm, hmm, hmm.
She just changes her mind while so kind does anything but gives hope to the lesser
Souls who ache for Love.
:: 12.21.2020 ::
Leave a comment | tags: #anguish, #believe, #broken, #ink, #love, #pain, #poetry, #words | posted in #aching, #all of me, #alone, #art, #brilliant wordsmith, #crying, #love, #poet, #poetess, #poets
Listen. Today i lost my voice — it left upward looking for my mind.
sometimes the strangeness of Life becomes reality and nothing more.
today i found myself within a garden of snakes and meat-devouring
plants. If not for the purple skies it would have been a wasted
experience. Meeting God was an experience before i found myself
inside a fetus that became my physical body.
the doves sang a brilliant but sometimes somber song;
peace of a piece so small it became nothing before i could
touch it’s sharp and exquisite edge.
Listen.
Today i lost my mind.
and my voice flew downward looking for sanity.
:: 09.11.2020 ::
1 Comment | tags: #alive, #dark, #dead, #guts, #ink, #paper, #poetry, #prose, #sad, #sick | posted in #abstract, #aching, #all of me, #angst, #art, #beautiful day, #bedtime stories, #poetry, #prose, #publishers
the armies of nations move forward
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
to 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.
:: 08.04.2020 ::
Leave a comment | tags: #danger, #disease, #ink, #insanity, #madness, #news, #paper, #poetry, #politicians, #pollution, #prose, #war | posted in #abstract, #all of me
IT has no effect to stop the
crying and screaming of my
brother while he is dreaming —
i found us sleeping between
Life and Death.
:: 07.19.2020 ::
Leave a comment | tags: #poetry | posted in #a hundred poems, #abstract, #all of me
MY part a half of whole
a thought a slice of more
that my life lived and soared
my part your half our one
an emotion that wave of ocean
that my dreams becomes Life
and as one what more
than one and whole?
:: 04-03-2014 ::
rev 07192020
Leave a comment | tags: #Ages, #center, #core, #gulf, #hearts, #human, #ink, #linguistics, #paper, #pit, #poetry, #prose, #thoughts, #time, #words | posted in #1900s, #all of me, #alone, #angels, #attic, #attraction
RESPONDS TO ALL THREATS
within THAT part of humanity
that responds to all threats
we tell ourselves: we shall
bury you ; beneath our tears
i scream toward my little boy
run and hide across all
political fences ::we share all
same biology:: regardless of
ideology / if history was
a President there’d be no such
thing as subscribed views |
my sweet butterflies
my royal golden bees
my children are this world
we share such the same
and wishing God too.
:: 07.16.2020 ::
Leave a comment | tags: #authors, #common sense, #editors, #ideology, #ignorant, #ink, #leaders, #poet, #poets, #political, #president, #prose, #publishers, #science, #toy | posted in #1700s, #1800s, #1900s, #1970, #4:20, #a hundred poems, #abstract, #aching, #adult, #afterlife, #Ages, #all of me, #all we are is all we are, #please, #poems, #poet, #poetess, #poetry, #poets
i was seemingly me: walking down the plank
boards of society: nothing glows brighter than
bitter symphony awakened to the
light of love ==
i can hear the most
i can change the most
So i praised the long journey
believing everything so finished
so its just the beginning
NEVER saying what i hear from the woods
/seeds of birth\
i have never died an unlived life
Cherubs eating orchid flowers
bizardley arranged : i shall never
draw aside the veil of love,
TO BE UNDERSTOOD
is greatering than understanding
:: 07.15.2020 ::
Leave a comment | tags: #abstract, #ink, #life, #loving, #new, #poetry, #prose, #words | posted in #1700s, #a hundred poems, #aching, #adult, #afterlife, #Ages, #akashic, #all of me
SEAS undulate a heavy wave
I see —
one too late
my fall-season life save
what a tear
— in that vast ocean
one who counts such sorrow
HE knows — comfort come
my seas pull me in that satin
bed sheets to eternally sleep
:: 03-13-2014 ::
Leave a comment | posted in #akashic, #all of me, #alone
E.P. Robles | Poetry 
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