WE carry heavy moments;
some upon backs and
then when others choose
hearts — burstForth
song and prose!
i know the little mouth
it is my heart but
largest when i write;
and to know humans
who destroy dreams
i say even the dead
can die again
always war
:: 07-25-2015 ::
JUST as he is to rise
life erupts!
all reflection of
no connection to
his self and it’s
a face of drowning
–say a prayer for
all the people
who care about life.
And the firm touch
of a bang-device that
says, “let’s take a ride”
and God knows the devil smiles
obfuscated sadness
and politics wet
for the prick of mass media
and all men and women scream,
“i skinned the eel
by it’s noctural
smile and something
is fishy!” What of this little boy?
who has lost his voice;
the world is a killer
and our children follow
it’s ways! So burn.
:: 07-25-2015 ::
ah, she’s in a sun-dress mood
all yellow with flowers
so blue and oh it’s so good
she has an apple-eye
strawberry mouth
singing how the sun
came on down to kiss her
and now
wow!
Ah, it feels so good
and how wishes are
like the wind and
whispers in my ear:
“you’re a lucky
heart to have her”
AH! It’s so good to
see her in a sun-dress mood!
:: 07-25-2015 ::
THEY all become my pets
it’s getting worse
when i realized my
pain was hanging by
a thread behind
the walls across the yard
the finest day i ever had
inside a deep pit
where drops of tears
hang in the air
that hummingbirds lick
and the sun burns away
somewhat like my life
and there’s something
in the wind i cannot see
but feel like the hope
beneath my skin that crawls:
it asks: do you love yourself?
and i have no words to explain
so i won’t complain
they’re all my pets
:: 07-25-2015 ::
THERE are soft fields which
no mind has painted
but hearts (which are really
always not human) run through
the tall grass as brushed nudes
and life is short but tall canvases
which where-by and bye our (h(e))ARTS
give some meaning.
And there is a sky so high
as deep as Soul erasing ignorance
from all minds inflamed by the minor
length of our traveled roads.
Is it not always short; the hello, goodbye,
love, hate and
a burning fire called Life!
:: 07-25-2015 ::
LIFE! as my prince,
as leaves
in morning dew
brightly aglow
or no ?
as my prince
as leaves
upon the ground
all greens
dark and dull?
then Over-death
by sudden memory
hope tugging string
attached to sun
whose horizon
–too tall!
as leaves my prince
in morning dew
and all greens
so dark and dull
as my prince leaves
:: 07-25-2015 ::
WHEN and then
f e e l i n g
pulls meanings
i cannot remember
fallings-ME into
the life’s River
BUT then, always then!
i remember fearings
singing ‘love me,
love me for what
i am!’ and then-ingly
i weep knowingly
this is the dream
and maybe the One
i never awaken from!
nature comes:
saving me! From me
and unto all i
: my abstract mind
and flesh are at
greatest odds!
:: 07-24-2015 ::
the conception of my
poetry is less a spark
than feeling
the feeling that i know
my emotions are true:
the truest thing in all
the universe i have friended
:something to never betray
but hold dearly and especially
while i write!
sometimes i scream
other times cry
and a few in anger
but when i write
i seem more than ‘me’
it’s the voice of
universality
:: 07-19-2015 ::
i removed myself today from focused pain
(a thing that’s so real) and heavy days
are over so i believe(d) with pale tender
white feet walking over a road
strewed with shards of reflecting memories
like my empire of thoughts
:all dirt leaving me alone
in a soul of colored pride
beneath the stains of time
and eating — like someone
who goes all like everyone
i’ve ever known, goes away –>
beating sound within my
chambered chest full of
earth’s old timid grace!
you wished to make me whole
And your tears past before
a splashy muddy mouth in
the river of my own life
:whatever i’ve become is
exulting,gentle love
in the end…
:: 07-18-2015 ::
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E.P. Robles | Poetry 
DREAMING OF THE CRASH
i always have a dry mouth
i speak in my dreams and
breath air in hope
when i am a sleep
asleep
dreaming
then the sun awakens me
like a simmering yoke
and i think, smiling;
i’m the bacon and my
blood the orange juice
it really is a solitary
moment: no one else is
here when i awaken
but my dreams follow me
in the short mornings
me stumbling for eye drops
and bc powder and socks
being human means i have
skin and flesh so i have
to make do with it
more busy awaken as meat
then being light. well,
i mean, being me.
so someone says i like your
poetry but it means nothing.
i think if someone said
‘you are nothing but speak
with words — who are you?’
would be delightful.
i’m striving for
ambiguity and nonsense.
and i dream of the crash!
:: 07-25-2015 ::
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