(c) E.P. Robles 2012
Of all the senses most admired
they are not the five mostly known
that I see before it’s done
precog is sweet but full of scorn
And sweet conversation — other side
is kind but exhausts my living life
what mostly I adore — affecting change
a higher path worldwide to take
is clearly the best for all – intention
:: 02-10-2014 ::
WHEN in sleep and I dream
sometimes little things
from the land-of-here
fall through the sleep
into over-there
Such no wonder then
that when I dream
the same reversal
happens here —
explains the reason
for the monster
in my closet…
:: 01-31-2014 ::
HUMANS think the house
— the only haunt
As though the wood
conjures the Spirits
of other-worlds
But the mind has rooms
which lurks some evil
a cave of skull
— the dark anteroom
sometimes possessed…
Our stupidity in all
that life contains
Barely a morsel
a nibble at best
Hungry for life we be
Escape from there
to here we run
so busy are we, finishing
So leisurely
we wish it be!
:: 01-29-2014 ::
A SLUMBERING breeze blows
beyond clambering hills
and conjures a song
So somber from trees
Beneath…
Crystal silence sings
a painful burning flesh
and threads in dreams
devouring numbing stings
So stiff the twilight
that constricts my throat
I muffle a yawning cry
from dawning fright
The moon…
Lay pale in listless shroud
and death is no wonder
In varnished white clouds
comes rumbless thunder
Never a stretch in mind
Oh, fiery blood, crackle bone
Only limb, neck and hair
Sharp fangs– a soulless moan
And you…
Forgive me, for I am cannibal
so romantic and tragic is my tail
Slaying both human and animal
always beneath a moonlight pale
I am the shadow
Beneath your footfalls
and dark cold light within
In tearless eyes of yellow
My hunger screams for you
In your dreams
I come, nimble and serene
Prancing first for smell
toward scents you resemble
and within your morbid dreams
I will always scream for you
:: ancient ::
I WAS walking with the devil
yeah, on a hot summer’s night
said to me things not heard
in the light of human-day
Moss-throat stuffed my voice
gator breath stole my soul
up yonder is the pearly gate
but you ain’t got the gold
— can’t enter it today
Says I, “cry me a river”
baby, cry me a river
of blood and tears today
Ain’t that the way honey
when the river flows
— it flows the other way
So we be going and going
Across the river’s way
going to make our way
through the night and day
sweat our soul like nothing
until tomorrow’s day-ya!
::01/03/2014::
WITH the cold greet of a night moon
something stirred within my soul
nothing human or even creature
a nameless feeling – I fell awake
And I walk amongst the few
who know the feeling of walking too
like a stroll within a river
each footstep thick and clever
I greet the moon and her cloak
a silver shower of comfort too
and my friends — the nocturnal
are ones who know my nameless face
we live the night and sometimes even
mostly a kill I’d share with them
but these nights even so much more
an ancient lullaby of tragic lore
Tonight I taste the silver light
dripping across the twilight land
and though I cannot your name remember
the lust and hunger for you is alive
I’m hungry for you…still hungry for you
very hungry for you…
::01/02/2014
UPON empty midnight streets
a washed in silver night rains
I carried your ghost in arms
Not once did you say —
or breath upon my skin
your ghost declines such pleasure
And on that cobblestone night
clickety-clack of horsemen
I saw your shadow in the park
Frozen-stare in congealed time
then in action I ran toward you
there by the grand tree of oak
Moonbeam drops through pale skin
opal hair distant stare
ruby lips love-drench gems
Away the world fell
cascade-passion drowned
eddies swirl-lust despair
You are the ghost
within my arms
moon-leaves fall
sparkle-night burn
one body–two hearts
I carry you today
— tomorrow-eternally
one body
— two hearts
:::::
WHEREBY it may be declared
that mysticism is union
or absorption into that Diety
of knowledge barred
by the intellect…
I do contemplate
nay — surrender
that my character-soul
dreamy thunder-confusion
understands — and knows
The ultimate reality
is more than mere words
practised by unknowns
incomprehensible to minds
but deeply known
Feelings, intuition
beneath the bedsheets
of mistress-whole-mindness
::P::
AND if the lost made their return
from soil to land and within your life
would you — could you — accept them back
from death to dust and an urn
Surely first the shock and disbelief
maybe a hug if you dared – could you?
and all the adjustments you made — evaporate
The new lover what say to them —
who replaced the gaping hole within your heart
a new baby but not from him — what then?
The possibilities of a return, some sweet
but most a hidden poison — you think secretly
But in the end (their end) sprang new possibility
You live your life as best you can
especially when a lost is much to bear
and you pray — leave the lost within the ground
…sweet love sleep sweetly unto the light
|+|
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E.P. Robles | Poetry 
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