WORDS of love — so maybe dear
tell me how you feel: hmm
hmm oh like poems; colors
bleed into rainbows watching
humans watching them
So dear allow me to hear
the words i want you to say
oh words are love and soft
(darling: i love you)
hmm hmm oh hmm yeah
now hold me close and tell me
love is real.
:: 09.08.2020 ::
A connotation of love
— and to life
sharpens this temporal splendor
of the night
i want to live down eager
streets of lifelessness
wind, wind, wind, the notes
of harmonica asking, ‘did
you once love someone?
as the final feather floating
down a whirl-wind in the final
brain___
as when down eager boulevards
of purple rolled in velvet
beyond doomed thoughts feels
crumbling silence
and seriously smiles
as when i have sometimes thought
of you too.
:: 09.07.2020 ::
MY heart open:
to give my treasure to you
my tiny world of a forever
summitless peak until i heard
my soul singing along with a bird
: a chorus as wide and long as
the greatest desert; as nothing like
the joys of that voice!
i eat the flames of heat and taste
the dry sands of the Sahara Desert —
dreaming of grass and rains (all are
WITHIN my HEART!
:: 08.31.2020 ::
i would sink if the moon left these shores! picture of myself,
bright floods! seeking shadowed roads. Of yellow and green
cellophane hearts –into the willows of an old courtyard.
O my dying quiet hearts of arts and words of black dog,
brown shepherd hungry formasters — bitter peaches upon the ground :
while sulfur and evil drown in shallow swims.
Oh but Lord! through amaranths and Sahara blues as fire and creepers
seep through the widow’s cage! i walked Guianan without shoes
and flew through the ducal window on such a moonlight as the blessed bindweed.
Across ages of time and hordes cross our aged Europe.
Every soul crosses the moors — all warriors!
:: 08.31.2020 ::
Shinning through the skies & of nothing particular continually towards the dark azure, where minds and hearts shimmer __
eats souls and young hearts in your young evening
— the tulips, all colors and a pessaries of ectasy!
i said hello, when the weather was wet and tight
for their living; the lily dring pink loathings
from your lonely mouth!
i screamed into the night and heard no thing
love crosses through customs ; your purple
bra bathe, swells in the morning breeze
— as a painter i painted roses as your
vagina / swollen with a thousand octaves!
i am the son and the heir of a criminal
heart of lust and soul — you shut your mouth
taking of blue lotuses or sunflowers,
pint footprints of basset-hounds in moon’s
silver twilight;
oh, shiny vulgar sex object-man:
i go about things the wrong way —
dickinson window stanz form;
following young girls making communion!
i pull the weeds and the old greenery,
standing upon their own — they go home
and want to die. pulling vegetable fancy
flowers — forsaking cock-‘d men;
and old gallons — not rattlesnakes.
just vegetable dolls.
:: 08.31.2020 ::
my MIND is of blood, coal fires, so many
deaths — aquilon as a warm blanket across
my heart — with no image of hate nor
vengeance! Oh, never!
And yet corrupt souls embrace it.
politicians, high priests, and
senators: die!
A common soul; a common person controls
the fate of all things. And who wishes
blood? Blood flowing through the streets?
If so, if so, then my soul wishes war;
vengeance; terror! for the children and
women who are slain for this madness!
As nations writhe in its bite:
enough republics!
enough of emperors and calloused kings.
so be it if we shall be crushed
so be it if America and great nations
vanish. The voice of an any poet shall
spread vengeance across cities and over
oceans!
:: 08.31.2020 ::
BLEEDING;HANDS OF KIND SOULS
bleeding;hands of kind Souls
dirty cleaned by smiles)
i tell :
you, i love your precious Heart
except your terrible tears
THE ONES
which tear us apart(wraith a clinging
with wraith) as two worlds
colliding as ghosts drowning within
silent thunder?as a thousand years we
could live but if i hurt you; by the ebbing
tides of a supreme ocean largest shudder)
as when death spoke –> never was death
so alive;chaos could live for a thousand
years(scream–as squashed grapes into wine)
my blood screams and tastes If as some world
of a spark.
:: 08.29.2020 ::
bleeding;hands of kind Souls
dirty cleaned by smiles)
i tell :
you, i love your precious Heart
except your terrible tears
THE ONES
which tear us apart(wraith a clinging
with wraith) as two worlds
colliding as ghosts drowing within
silent thunder?as a thousand years we
could live but if i hurt you; by the ebbing
tides of a supreme ocean largest shudder)
as when death spoke –> never was death
so alive;chaos could live for a thousand
years(scream–as squashed grapes into wine)
my blood screams and tastes If as some world
of a spark.
:: 08.29.2020 ::
The corner of Despair and Regret
with a gray thought her singular tale
a distinguished title of blood and foam
Fetus of feeling no more
eyes never looking aft but
oblige a tree auditor
across the street
footfalls across
wet streets
hellish regrets of
that unknown giant
of all words i stalk
is despair the trembled unknown
whose slippery body is Death’s
greatest pal; a young woman within
an older male’s path –> sweet slow
animal fearsomely who do keep her
Sunday flower.
:: 08.29.2020 ::
with a pinkish red slender tongue
and a singular set of balls i do
not lift a foot from the bed
but bury my duties within
the flesh of my woman:
harlequin vipers around us
and a terrible urgency to
finish what we started after
saying, “hello.” The angel
of modesty fled with a precision
that buried a tray of common sense
while two human bodies melted into
one flesh – spiritually and physically
: we forgot we were human/feeling as
brilliant light\ from mistletoe and
sweet kisses. we were the origin of
fire.
I passed through your sprawling hills
and you turned off the lights without
sowing terror – riddles forgotten.
Your thighs a desert and my shaft
a delight.
:: 08.22.2020 ::
we can walk upon the house
through closed doors
across the kitchen without
making sound —
we can walk across the moon
leave trash and mark our
print as humanity like we do
all from reliable heat
of the academic thoughts of
ego — knives and guns reproduce
the fever:
a giant step we take
breaking legs.
so troubled with sex appeal which
media mentions and corresponds so
wonderfully — oh beautiful blue
whales: that glide effortless
as an early fever in early
odic enchantment/keep it up/
oh oh\ keep it up / within the
deepest creases of human-animal
minds.
:: 08.22.2020 ::
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E.P. Robles | Poetry 
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