a creeping chill throws me cold: t he
skies have t urn SEPIA AND i completely
utterly melt into each word
birth’d — this elegie betrays the poet;
a confession unburdens the Spirit — you
are reading about the me of ‘i’ have always
loved you |mia /i shall meet you again to-now
within the theater of my Soul sure, sometimes
i have concern for the world as it continues
to devour my Feelings and sensibilities.
when can i love you again?
:: 03.24.2020 ::
\ MIGHTY are the WEAK Werelings
strange to see them run around
hauteur made them make it
phase changes are pinkish
while head-to-head
while heart-to-heart
if we build it
they will come
oh hum hum
sing the Werelings
of forgotten lore /
:: 03.21.2020 ::
FORGOTTEN! are the fragmented memories as
touching the ghost-flesh of a missing limb ;a
bridge too far spanned beyond measure
and torn-bleeding feet bared for all to
witness/my Sweetest days
were alone with you
my brilliant Sun and her mistress of night
with silver-beamed light from her ageless face
the Moon\my Love is immeasurable, my Love’s
passion unmeasurable — we are too busy with
each other’s joy to notice; her nails are black
her neck is thin, her eyes anthracine-misty;
the very air within her presence a maelstrom
of mystery is where i am is where i go.
:: 03.21.2020 ::
THEN the skies bellowed a frothy glitter and d o w n became up &sideways
turned horizontally truthful said the vegan Aardvark. THE Policeman chewed his
m0uth-
side and a Red Ant crawled out from his nostril damn-us (Quatrain 173) &
my pillow has luscious lips from some disembodied woman who once cared
for me. The rest of this deliriousprose is buried in an unmarked book within a discount store on the far side of the Moon.
::02.??.2020::
to all the poets who suffer: who wish the next word
is the last drop of eternal pain
i say
You are safe within this Pantheon
of pain____________and,
are the skies more blue?
Does a brook sing across her
banks and over soft rocks?
can you hear the robin and
her discourse for the day?
And during evening storms
Mother Nature’s greatest silence
is between lightning and thunder.
::02.10.2020::
WITHIN sunlight the shadows are more
defined.
My skin is relived by the sunburn.
I did not follow her down to a bridge by the
creek but rested upon the trunk of an
e l e p h a n t.
Then again mostly upon knights and queens
i am sleeping. The cornerstone of Life
is part sleep — the rest is made of dreams.
::01.26.2020::
SOMETIMES the good times & sometimes
we get what we want )sometimes(
Having had a Dream within this Dream
was a long long time ago and Lord knows
this isn’t the first time, no it isn’t the first time.
How we dreamed and dreamed of each other
without knowing each other’s names or where
we lived and breathed — so, please let me know
oh please let me know how you are while
an ocean keeps our hearts apart — this good
man is so in love with
your voice and smile and sunny Soul.
Goodnight, goodnight sweet darling.
|| send me to oblivion where the soul never begs — ‘sometimes’ is always
winning over ‘always’ even though (mostly) things of great concern are
never present / living on the outside but dying on the inside \ i climb
upon my silver cord and find a place to hide ||
seasons are nature’s Living Kaleidoscope
the colors absorb the shadows
:: 02.04.2020 ::
 | 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 
SCIENTIFIC PROGRESS EATS HUMANITY
Edison was an a$$hole but Tesla a true gentleman of scientific progress and
even though they do not know we are simply looking through the papers of life”s
nature; life flows like…
B u t t e r f l i e s –> and someday rocks will sing ;
‘we wish you love and we wish you peace’
yea oh
yea
oh yea wish we lived within a better time than now now-now no hearse pulls a u-hall behind it now-now if you give it away give it all away i say and moths have no feed-time on a closet of emptiness as empty heads require no hats — there-there;who wears a real hat these days? Sinking waters hold ships tighter than leather-skin and she was a grand woman with a long neck and longer abdomen– forgive the orchids for they ate her and spat up fluorescent pink angel hair.
::02.22.2020::
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