Category Archives: #poet

PYROGLASS ROSE

THE last three horsemen ride in unison! Four black steeds rumble into view like the first the terror was off! now color is lost! the sky above a slaughter of piglets lies before and if you chase the sun you’ll fall if there was not a fourth beast beware the midnight rider for fear it shall take you in a hurry and this dream will be no dream but only memory; one day the human race will arrive to exterminate you!
‘adeu la libelle! sayo qu’esseusement!’
‘goodbye libel! say that only! ‘
oh, oh sorabe! indeed, how true!
a dawn of redemption; time and time again rises…rises we must ride this, and ride this to reclaim our souls from this sleeping or this lie begins :: we are nothing to no one for we are we for we are you and this we speak must be so, yes for it is so and, if the whole world knew
what we know… and if the angels of truth could see this nightmare from its beginning
if they could see this dream, and not deny their own eternal truth they could then make the choice by not reading, they would not read they would not harm themselves and, they would not grow strong, and they would not find the Lord from their lack of knowledge they would not stand up against Satan for He made them and He put them there and they were made to fail so that they would not lose their soul from such failure oh, yes if the whole world knew what we know then they would realize…we are nothing and this we speak must be so, yes for it is so, yes and this we have learned.

‘adeu la libelle! sayo qu’esseusement!’

OH MY GOD WHAT THE HECK IS THIS!!!
YOUR MOTHER KEEPS HITTING YOU WITH THIS SCRATCHY THING AND I’M GETTING MAD!
IT SOUNDS LIKE A CHICKEN MEATBITER!
HOW DARE SHE!!!
WAIT A MINUTE!
SOMEONE IS GETTING ANGRY…
YEAH!!!
YESSSSS!
YESSSSS!!!
WAIT A MINUTE!!!
GO BACK TO THE BEGINNING
HERE’S YOUR CLUES!
DON’T MAKE ME LOOK LIKE A WRONGUNNER!!
JUST EAT THE CHICKEN
WHY CAN’T YOU JUST EAT THE CHICKEN?
WHY CAN’T I JUST EAT A BLIND CHICKEN?!
THE PYROGLASS ROSE UPON IT AND GOT YOU BOTTLED UP!

FROM ALL THE BLUE MONARCHY!!

:: 03/09/2021 ::


ONE NEVER LOSES ALL THINGS

How i lost everything
and all for love of you
and now i am grieving
under moon shadow

and if i ever lose
my voice i speak love
and if i ever lose
my love i show my heart
and if i ever lose art
my hands move colors

deep within a green forest
i met a man with no legs
and he jumped and landed
within my mind and soul:

so if i lose my mind
these words are spoken
upon behalf of me.

:: 08.18.2021 ::


MY DREAMS TAKE ME HOME

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 ::


UNINVITED CHARITY

LIFE: is anyone worthy? i am so flattered by your fascination with me.  
i am so weak and ulgy but by water frogs like any hot blooded woman i am not too  much to crave: but  fascinations with me.  I am simply an object to crave — but you (so kind and invited).

It must be because it is expressly existed to see the skies part and my heart bleed.
You sheppard my causes but you, you are not alone but enlighted by charity.  The One I love so much.
Must be a soul with a hard shelled heart who knows desperate measures.  
But you, you are not alive but enlighted.  Slight.  White hands moving the air and
making words and uncharted emotions grievely.  YOu speak of my love for you
and have experienced death.  YOU.  Thus, you are not alive but invited for uncharted
words.  Emily Dickinson.

:: 07.15.2021 ::


A HUNDRED POEMS – LIII

I feared a thing untold & unseen
that thing i feared within my mind
a thing too!
Split by half in such unknowns
i strove to know:
Unraveled too which spilled upon the floor!
Imperfect thoughts rolled from higher ground to low!
Then reality’s curtain fell; my needle tired to stitch
the past when love was good!
But life ran beyond the needle and instead stitched time
within my soul.

:: E.P. ROBLES (c) 2018::

:: 05-15-2014 ::
:: 10-20-2018 ::


TODAY IS A DAY OF PAIN

BETWEEN seconds i find myself focused
upon all that i have learned :
— how silence helps me remember
everything i am become –>
: and i feel memories and now and here
the promises of those from the past
(and how i remember everything from
the now) Almost everyone i know has passed
and how those i love are in dirt
or burned as ashes my sweetest loves
and everyone i know goes away in the end
— how i grab your heart.
How life turns a soul and tries to kill
it all away: but now i am away i see
how everyone i knew is so sweet and how
i love my my many friends
what i have become and how everyone
passess in the end. How we love history
and how we hide masks and crown of thorns
of broken thoughts. We hide a face and
still i am right here. How everyone goes
and slips away in shadows and how i love
how i could start again and keep myself
safe i would find a way.

:: 07.10.2021 ::


AFRICAN LOVE

i see the night star shinning so brightly
i feel the pain within my soul …
how the air is my last Testament of dreams
i am a traveling soul without boundaries
and my elders lost their grip upon me
oh how much shall be revealed
when at last the sun beats down upon
my face oh oh …gentlemen kneel
as the clear skies rain
I am a chord of grace & not a word
heard i relate — oh, oh, yeah
oh, oh, how flesh eats my soul
How forefathers gave and their
women wept for their pain and love
ooooooh!
rambling wondering and writing words
crying silently and never lord oh never
weeping the pain of my skin and soul
(wait for me) i cry oh how i know
| all i see turns to dirt |
and if a sound burns to ground
i sing with eyes /if i lose my mind
\ then with my mouth!/
Ooh some such angel oooooooooh
touch my Spirit.

:: 06.28.2021 ::


FOREWARD:  THE WERELINGS

WHEN sun opens the skies above so opens my dreams –>  open greens
like children’s eyes :  all to be revealed.  

As where summer’s beside their secret glories sleep
oh flowing downward if they’ll or righteously flow
so(armies of enemies fighting like adults reveals)  will fall

this. that.  a(t) least dare and not a word to relate
of seasons is nothing but herself flustered in pain.
oooooh.

An open closet within the child’s room:  bombed by society’s war;
‘s gulped by fear –> and never knew ghosts who hold
the hands of the living________ whom cannot kill but give life.
As each, c umbs of our Now) oooooooh      yeeeeeeah
twiceauponatime we met the willbeus and the desert streams
of desert sands | kissing the angel of Imagination.

Werelings.  

:: 06.28.2021 ::


WHEN RAIN STARTS FALLING DOWN

There are cemeteries that are lonely, graves full of bones that do not make a sound, the heart moving through a tunnel, in it darkness, darkness, darkness, like a shipwreck we die going into ourselves, as though we were drowning inside our hearts, as though we lived falling out of the skin into the so

And there are corpses, feet made of cold and sticky clay, death is inside the bones, like a barking where there are no dogs, coming out from bells somewhere, from graves somewhere, growing in the damp air like tears of rain.

Sometimes I see alone coffins under sail, embarking with the pale dead, with women that have dead hair, with bakers who are as white as angels, and pensive young girls married to notary publics, caskets sailing up the vertical river of the dead, the river of dark purple, moving upstream with sails filled out by the sound of death, filled by the sound of death which is silence.

Death arrives among all that sound like a shoe with no foot in it, like a suit with no man in it, comes and knocks, using a ring with no stone in it, with no finger in it, comes and shouts with no mouth, with no tongue, with no throat. Nevertheless its steps can be heard and its clothing makes a hushed sound, like a tree.

I’m not sure, I understand only a little, I can hardly see, but it seems to me that its singing has the color of damp violets, of violets that are at home in the earth, because the face of death is green, and the look death gives is green, with the penetrating dampness of a violet leaf and the somber color of embittered winter.

But death also goes through the world dressed as a broom, lapping the floor, looking for dead bodies, death is inside the broom, the broom is the tongue of death looking for corpses, it is the needle of death looking for thread.

Death is inside the folding cots: it spends its life sleeping on the slow mattresses, in the black blankets, and suddenly breathes out: it blows out a mournful sound that swells the sheets, and the beds go sailing toward a port where death is waiting, dressed like an admiral.

:: 06.05.2021 ::


THE CHILDREN’S HOUR

A pause within the day to breathe flowers
is called the Children’s Hour.

Like the last brilliant star at sunrise.

My eyes, brilliant as any sun
does not call you to depravity.

a Day broken as a first morning
and song birds singing for grace
praise for the morning and praise all

fresh into a world in such turmoil.

Sweet new fawn born in briar
and new buds of nature painting Earth
how exquisite Nature speaks to Hearts.

Mine is sunlight
Mine is morning

and how crazy we fall elated into
confusion disregarding God’s Creation.

:: 05.28.2021 ::