Category Archives: #prose
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 ::
Leave a comment | tags: #broken, #extreme, #fear, #ink #pain, #poetry. #words | posted in #abstract, #abuse, #aching, #all of me, #alone, #anguish, #art, #poems, #poet, #poetess, #poetry, #prose, #saints, #secrets
i wish I had more time and opportunity to explain my disgust to your rust-stained sarcophagus. To offer a calm palate of meditative colors for our feelings (why not) — you seemed so surprised to be called from a glass prison.
Oh, blessed crystal, what do I have to do to kiss your hand with a succulent kiss for you have forgotten the grain of truth to your rust-stained sarcophagus!
To offer a calm palate of meditative colors for our feelings (why not) — you seemed so surprised to be called from a glass prison.
Oh, blessed crystal, what do I have to do to kiss your hand with a succulent kiss for you have forgotten the grain of truth and your heart could only love the person who feeds it for nourishment — is a difficult task; so you resorted to Cupid’s slingshot!
But here’s an alternative: follow my heart down the garden path, until my sticky feet block the entrance of Cupid’s grave.
Here — get me the jar of colorful paint and I will show you the
sparkle of love.
Here — get me the fork and I will show you the flavor of our love
that came from one man.
Here — get me the ball and I will smash it across my canvas of life.
Here — get me the pencil and I will draw you a gentle, tender picture.
Here — get me the jar of colorful paint and I will show you the
sparkle of love.
Here — get me the fork and I will show you the flavor of our love
that came from one man.
Here — get me the ball and I will smash it across my canvas of life.
Here — get me the pencil and I will draw you a gentle, tender picture.
Here — get me the paint bucket and I will lay it on a canvas of life
It was exactly 14 days since you told me you left the store early.
14 dreary days and I do not think you’ve been here once (not that I
would blame you for believing it).
14 days since I was mean to you, and then you said you’d be back
by 14.
:: 12.24.2020 ::
Leave a comment | tags: #abstract, #death, #hearts, #ink, #life, #love, #paper, #pen, #pencil, #poetry, #romance, #skin, #thoughts, #wonderful, #writers | posted in #1800s, #abstract, #aching, #analogies, #confession, #depression, #fascination, #poems, #poet, #poetess, #poetry, #poets, #prose
DEATH sheltered upon the spit of dying souls;
sun and heat a giant cat with one flat foot
upon a devil’s wing — the homosexual and
amorous spirits that cross a garden in dead
of night make scary sounds.
my throat an elevator from heaven descending
toward hell with every swallow; my non-
existent ring upon a broken finger as throbbing
sexual oysters.
to smell the clean spirit of angels are as hanging
clothes upon a clothesline within a Spring’s breeze.
:: 09.21.2020 ::
Leave a comment | tags: #abstract, #blood, #emotions, #ink, #love, #prose, #souls, #spirits | posted in #abstract, #death, #garden, #ghosts, #moments, #poetry, #poets, #prose
the carnival-like brass band
performing songbird miracles
of you, worn within my heart
all life; never quitting
until dead
sunrises as torn muscles
amorous and petting a cat
that adores thoughts
through the crack of heaven
i slid toward burning hell
all my thoughts —
and now fate kisses me and
we love each other is called
Life.
:: 08.17.2020
Leave a comment | tags: #dreams, #ink, #poet, #poetry, #surreal, #words | posted in #abstract, #poems, #poet, #prose
Listen. Today i lost my voice — it left upward looking for my mind.
sometimes the strangeness of Life becomes reality and nothing more.
today i found myself within a garden of snakes and meat-devouring
plants. If not for the purple skies it would have been a wasted
experience. Meeting God was an experience before i found myself
inside a fetus that became my physical body.
the doves sang a brilliant but sometimes somber song;
peace of a piece so small it became nothing before i could
touch it’s sharp and exquisite edge.
Listen.
Today i lost my mind.
and my voice flew downward looking for sanity.
:: 09.11.2020 ::
1 Comment | tags: #alive, #dark, #dead, #guts, #ink, #paper, #poetry, #prose, #sad, #sick | posted in #abstract, #aching, #all of me, #angst, #art, #beautiful day, #bedtime stories, #poetry, #prose, #publishers
A heatwave visited today carried by winds and star tears; it touched me.
A vanilla taste warned amygdala as I was cycling back from hill country
away from dust beasts that live beyond the wooden bridge near the
dried out lakes of lost souls.
That infernal star dropped across the horizon and bounced from Dallas
to San Antonio leaving burn prints like dots begging for carbon pressed
lines between death and destruction.
I almost made it home but the star tears started to fall and such power
is resistant to prayers and dreams.
As they fell the Earth opened up like onion paper against a furnace.
I forget everything at that moment.
forever.
:: 07.25.2020 ::
Leave a comment | tags: #abstract, #flies, #fruit, #ink, #nature, #pen, #poetry, #syntax, #whore | posted in #abstract, #poems, #poet, #poetry, #post mortem, #prose
WITHIN all this time
within my frail skin
my mighty heart still lies
she made a warm soup
while i wandered as a lonely
cloud that floats outside
a window while at night (dreaming):
A host of tellings —
a sickle of amazing sun-honey
lit hearts — beside the lake,
beneath trees, we thrived &
danced within the immortal winds.
:: 07.24.2020 ::
Leave a comment | tags: #hot, #ink, #now, #people, #poetry, #prose, #rains, #sense, #stars, #weeping | posted in #1800s, #1900s, #4:20, #a hundred poems, #awaken, #birds, #broken hearts, #classical music, #cosmetics, #depressed, #enormity, #feelings, #friendship, #language, #love you, #loved by the sun, #missed, #noir, #penny, #people, #prose
WHO ever promised a soul
who ever prophetized love
who ever it was
had no human name
or so
it seems
dropping in pieces
falling in me’s and you’s
dropping in reasons
i’m calling it cream of you
Falling every way in small
pieces of insanity
i can see brilliant
Light of Life
it is chasing my chakra-heart
…
born north of Tropicana
i landed upon the back of a blue
scarab and went for a world-tour
and met anyone who is/has been/was/
will be anyone and so several times
came across me. Seemed i was doing
something against nature walking
in through the outdoor
:: 07.19.2020 ::
Leave a comment | tags: #poetry, #prose, #words | posted in #1900s, #abstract, #poetess, #poetry, #poets, #prose
AND your strawberry eyes
with a sweet liquor!
a ,”NOBODY’s” Spirit sang
\ my own heart!
(i need) A Sweet sender brought
a wind of over-under Wonder!
(calling un)in(to despair)
fat lady sing!how
i love a mostly Large-almond-Love woman
each famous heart finding love must
end in each of everything____ (so many years
pass since I first wrote my last note)
around a wounded mind
of little fingers! A n d love is no wrong
with(a lot of you and me the faith of spirit)
c o n f i r m e d in heaven’s
solid congress! –> the message with a castes
blue bottle unto the gaping mouth of hungry
Ocean!
:: 03-12-2015 ::
:Rev 06.23.2020 ::
Leave a comment | tags: #nothing, #poetry, #prose, #thinking, #thoughts, #words, #writers | posted in #1700s, #abstract, #analysis, #philosophers, #proof, #prose, #psycho, #secrets
HOPING is a giant hammer, terrifying, and insane
at tender times, while the heart hides away;
crying like laughter releases compressed
emotions — this is no wrong or right but a golden
trumpet, teeth shattering upon each note played___
the paunch of my feelings gilded wainscoting.
Wonder ing if Heaven has graveyards — the hope
of dying twice/once in hell upon Earth the other
one inch inside the pearled gates.
:: 06.20.2020 ::
Leave a comment | tags: #hearts, #heaven, #ink, #poetry, #prose, #thoughts, #writing | posted in #abstract, #feelings, #poet, #prose
E.P. Robles | Poetry 
You must be logged in to post a comment.