MY heart in hot summers have I
rejoiced while heat has spiked
my chest — as watching the sun
sink below purplest colors
of pink and darkening clashing
tears of mightiest strength
and the joy of love and
children’s laughter do always
save my soul and heart
gives me defying peace
and erodes scorn — my
lone might against darkness
opposing!
:: 03-10-2019 ::
ENERGY speaks words
like mathematical screaming
discretely hiding its origins.
I (this human writing) is
NOT science. I am flesh and bone
physically but my brain tells me
that the thoughts I have come
from so far away that there is no
number to describe its distance.
Infinity does not count. It only
says that ‘something’ goes on and
on (a way to cheat the thing we
cannot clearly describe) but some
how it all works out with pencil
and a blackboard.
I suspect. A greatness so grand
we cannot even begin to touch
the lips of it’s truth. But still,
I wish to kiss it with my own
lips. I wish to embrace it. To
become engulf within the unknowable
truth.
:: 03-10-2019 ::
WHO can fathom universal mysteries
and those cosmic eyes of pulsars;
a child’s laughter | a bottle
of flickering ray caught inside
any throat;
then when dreaming our Soul sheds
weight by squeezing light from
our tipped toes
as a kangaroo jumping
like a thought through
the needle of some mysteriously
unknown being familiar to our selves
there is no fine line between
understanding and obliviousness:
you either understand or not.
They watch as a spot of an eye
fixed upon each of us. My lips
are dried from the winds of torment
and my heart is a locomotive whose
clenched wheels ride the rails
from South to North. East to West.
We all have a seat there —
with assigned arrivals and
departures.
:: 03-10-2019 ::
MY heart rests upon a
mote of dust
not forgotten but
still for us frozen
as though love absent
bursting full of sorrow
as though HistoryLand
–i forget my name//
but poplar within
the fields of my Heart.
:: 03-06-2019 ::
E.P. Robles (c) 2019
Anger’s division ate my heart in bites
so small the moon spun around howling
at wolves — lady / God \ rivers
sequestered Souls; i died within your
arms and death too — we go up and down
with angels whose burning wings light
our Souls
We took refuge in truth and we go up
and down and scratch away lies
— the little lies eat life
|||the bigger you give the bigger
you get and sometimes we forget
the Spirit needs food and we
scratch away the flesh from life
; is such the little death every
day we breath/we live in small
spaces wishing kisses resurrected
Love and all our biggest dreams.
:: 03-08-2019 ::
it comes at night and seems to
, it seems to grip my heart ; i
die? –>so, case in point –>
i’ve been so bad, but not as bad
as this world: my mother said
i too shall suffer for all my sins
(ooh oh ooh) oh love! And now
Heaven save me from my evil deeds
and oh hell help me while i clean
these wounds : what i am is all
anyone could be /a victim of
being human ///…////keep away
from me man! MY lover is an angel
that kiss-tells me all i need is a
good defense against ewe-you, ha,
uh hmm. \\\
:: 02-28-2019 ::
if have i if i
had high while all
little beauties were
dying i had them all
within just ‘me’
is the beauties that
seem to always be
that most pain.
e.p.robles (c)2019
:: 02/09/2019 ::
my dearest of all Love the piece of me
weeping when alone silently i pray for
touching and kisses as the mockingbird
sings at the lowest point of night
it is your kindess
the cotton-filled pillow of my
dreams When i am tall and walk
the shadow has you there with me When
you are away There then is the prayer:
“To be strong and solid
to have your strength with me
while i am half of us; that we are whole
is the best of any Love.”
Soon, then maybe, we shall be back
together in our Strength. Of all we cherish
and is the sweetest of any moment ever
remembered. Is love.
:: 02-08-2019 ::
WHEN then words begin to Express
Life (awakened now)? our mind
is captured by truth and Light
love is love’s giving as a
keeping’s give:
the Great Small
&
the Small Great
all are lovely pink babies crying
to be fed and nurtured.
By Our Creator who is Un-named
but known by many vicarious words;
still The Greatest Mystery
of All!
:: 02-08-2019 ::
DO you have a quiet place
deeply dear, within The No
One can enter here spot?
Me too. I keep it near
the love of YOU.
(and there the brightness
of sweet peace)
all as nature knows
is best and & i eyes
know knew now yes live
yes we LIVE
(the masters of skillfully
curved romantics called
P O E T S.
:: 02-08-2019 ::
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E.P. Robles | Poetry 
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