A living soul gave me a message
today:
“You are remembered within your grave”
and i should reply:
“the biggest fire is before sunset
when families reside upon
a wooden table to fest in life”
And i should cease to breath a terrible
whistle sound by six pm
and (thank you Emily)
“No Coward Soul Is Mine!”
:: 07-12-2015 ::
WET sheets (of sweat) ~ i’m feeling
generally believing my own mortality
i feel: primary flaccidity eyelids
closed ooh oh yeah
a loss of tension in muscles and WHEN
i felt so much hung upon the footsteps
of life and no more and don’t
you cry when i’m gone
with the skin i’ve shed
rigor mortis is a last feeling in fingers
and toes so you got time to find
it: to find it! AND where is tomorrow?
Did you run away with the feeling of love?
And whose mask do you wear? And i got
time for just tomorrow for you to find it
And when my muscles loosen –~ times gone
and i’ve gone upward toward beyond tomorrow
and i lov eyou and i had time for tomorrow
but life burns moments and there you are //
:: 07-10-2015 ::
i am skin you shed
i am dead ~~
i say you like me
i am sad
i am cosmetic drug
i am blue and white
inside all of you
when you say
word i hate you
lord knows i do
when you cry
bird flew away
it’s all you
i am so sick
i am so dead
i am like you
i am what i am
i am that i am
and you: what
are you?
:: 07-03-2015 ::
AND if you say you
are so sad
I say I’m happy
and if you are afraid
of life I say I am
so comfortable in death
you really should wake up
I gave you a knife to
cut the birth cake of
your life –> you cut
your wrists and so we
have crimson cake: oh well
vanilla is white
blood so red
all we need is your mood
to make blue
–>red, white and blue
a Nation so Happy
America! Killed you
and all her social
engineering death
! So I really say
you really caught the
hook in your mouth
but I love you
:: 06-30-2015 ::
BY all those that are living
have traveled from that which
is dying
or dead
And from that knot
to the ultimate unraveling
those that are living
will have traveled this far:
to dying
and even death!
:: 04-29-2015 ::
if i lie within
my bed of pain
let’s call her death
and my sheets i’ve woven
entwined dreams of youth
that i took your breasts
within my mouth
i weep!
and to see how life expands
into a thin string of weakness
and of your-heart
and smile
too i’ve seen thinly die
i ate the dreams
from your mouth
and arguments are stupid things
spectral ghosts of hungry love!
but your eyes and lips and hands
are just as ghostly to my heart
as years that creep away
so do you!
:: ~~ ::
I have a devious
minor chord
: it begat life
which I knew —
the fallen stems
of walking
lifeless shadows!
I could hug a
section of any
street if it
loved only me!
and the god-
damn birds
are lovely lean-
ing Songstress
words I am
compelled to die
for! Raw throats
of morning song
— I die.
:: 03-23-2015 ::
i love the silence you give me
so still and quiet
contemplating your situation,
so appreciated! And you
haven’t said a word
— forever
ever! i saw your eyes;
coins kept in place
any opportunity for you
to see! A pity. But lovely
how the stitches crawl
up toward your heart
keeping promises forever
oh, um, forever sewn
like it’s so much grief
a life cut short by disease
we can scientifically call
fucking life.
yeah. YEAH! And you
and Mozart decompose
the score of a thing
called purple life
it’s only me so don’t cry
and you smell…formaldehyde
but your lips still grin
:: 03-08-2015 ::
THE entrance was kept
in well lit corners
the rug a long dead beard
once hung upon a living face
and walls adorned in history
like the smell of something
that took its last breath
by dimmed years ago
And the boxes! Of spoons,
knives, and busy-doing life
and one of photographs;
the stolen moments of time
caught unprepared!
Faded, raped, and torn
of once living souls from
the 1900s — i could not hope
but to find one to make my own;
then caught my eye it did!
clearly written in white margin
“May 4, 1886” A Victorian
death photo — of me!
:: 03-07-2015 ::
 | EPRobles on OWL MILK AND INDIGO SMOKE |
 | Adam Fisher on OWL MILK AND INDIGO SMOKE |
| EPRobles on ECSTASIES OF THE REPULSIV… |
 | R. Marshall on ECSTASIES OF THE REPULSIV… |
 | Stefan on ECSTASIES OF THE REPULSIV… |
E.P. Robles | Poetry 
You must be logged in to post a comment.