THE embryo’s skinny fists reach the skies
and hides a face yet born
in this summer of burning children you
call a name and the world is asleep.
the fitful swings the stuffed animals
the tired friends called warm winds
have long thoughts of buried snakes
and within the many undreamed thoughts
of a lost world the embryo’s skinny fists
tear the skies apart — the revelation
of new nails grown for 2 months that never
had a drink of the blood you spilled //
some hang their hand and drown within fear
yet, and, with unborn eyes very open, to pretend
a gently passed hand over a baby’s head —
THIN new hair that does not die, long nails
within a soft chest — licking the bloodless
wounds of survival.
The sound of the surgeon’s scalpel.
:: 06.20.2020 ::
We’re dying meat all inside
unexpressed confessions so,
kill me /dark deep dive
all for your pleasure re-
gardless of type of weather:
we guard your dying MEat
always dying for your meat’s
car-crash weather/we live or
die is not a question for any
:: 03.22.2020 ::
i have walked within your
thunderstorms & broken nails
upon the wood of your maple
casket — makes me sad
called a dove the vulture of
all hearts (oh my)
hauled dirty stares within
the sack of my brain we all
refrain from bruised egos OH HEY
says the middle finger of my MOUTH
you can only lose
what you never had
and i broke nails
trying to pull Jesus
from his Cross//+\\
:: 03.11.2020 ::
IT is midnight; somewhere a storm has
overshadowed a Soul, in others, the storm
is a brilliant reprieve of false peace;
and words pour as molten gold.
A richness of undetermined wealth measured
by Spirit and not human needs.
I have become equal to fear and peace —
this i discovered with my never-closing eyes,
take away this discovery and many others
to share with all fellows. The proof of
existence is a blood-penned period at the
end of a written sigh.
And i write this previous sentence in honor
of Isidore Lucien Ducasse.
To discover your feelings have died and
the skin is a roof for a cemetery! This
pain causes me to pull upon my eyes until
they fall to the ground; and to realize
sympathy is a symphony of sensitive angels
who love us all.
To me; i love you. To everyone else, you
have been my teacher.
:: 04-16-2019 ::
e.p.robles (c) 2019
these feelings bleeding
penetration of Spirit
these emotions swimming
indecision is winning
help me —
i’ve got no mission
help me —
i’m full of rivets
i’m all broke within
these thoughts crawling
further away from god
you cannot help my situation
you cannot lift the skies
you cannot breach the walls
of where my Soul has
gone to die
help me —
i’m waking up drowning
help me —
i’m too complicated
And these feelings bleeding
a penetration of my Spirit
:: 09-28-2018 ::
THAT in my fever while sanity has escaped by baluster
i continue to gaze in daze across the sea of white-
Each o-shaped mouth
Each Black-bead eye
and all the ears
all the chins
speak an infinite story of nothing but sadness.
And within the orchestral pit finely dressed musicians
they shed b-flat note tears; their mannequin powder-white
skin a color of pink’s sunsetting murmur.
Simply, the true story is off stage toward this
improbable army audience; the finely carved polychrome
citizens start to move; half-bodied and more alive
than the flesh-kingdom.
Last night. Last night i felt.
That one’s life can be as real as one’s imagination
if you sinerely wish it.
:: 08-23-2018 ::
MOTHER, all the monsters are now gone as Love and Spirit have \defeated them;
and what is left is a gaping holethat can only be filled by Light and Soul.
Gripping my throat / gripping my soul / gripping all life;
Is my fear\is my fear\is all my undying fear
AND my lover, the other; a woman who stole my heart — i gave her all
that of good & bad; and my heart — always one too!
Don’t you breath upon me my fear!
don’t you tread upon me evil one!
If I could cry and I’ve tried
If I could sleep and I would
I would never belie this fact:
that many hearts are darkly lit
but never within my own heart!
:: 12-01-2017 ::
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 the 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 by Ghosts.
:: 07-12-2017 ::