eye | someTIMES tear my
eyes OUT — found the last
sheep to COUNT no longer within
my MinD oh!so here we go:
In fall of light and highway,
a Child your hands upon the
wheels — him holding up in his hands
uLtimATE Delirium –\ now, here we go
–stop–
05/14/2019
e.p.robles(c)
So beautiful is
OUR WORLD: later, when stars open out
to all this Time to the cold, i
opened the door : how you flew out to
Space
i am with you if you leave
A kiss upon
a wave with you i feel a bit more
Brave: from the dark through our hands,
the lust flew out into space
and i am with you (if you leave)
as we fly, as we love and die
:: 05-14-2019 ::
e.p.robles (c) 2019
HER voice — must have been how
her spoken voice was bland
so savory over lettuce leaf–
how it’s not my time; please
never forget how precious new
memories are.
bad products win again
bad product wins again
:: 05-14-2019 ::
e.p.robles (c) 2019
We deal our cards as a form
of meditation
not knowing where life is
or love
He has a fedora and boots
and doesn’t play for money
just respect
She has a natural way
scattered are the numbers
she the sword of soldiers
that’s not the shape
of paradise but war
And all our lives it’s not
the shape of my Soul
she has the royal flush
i know the remnants of war
run away from your sword
carve the shape of my Heart
:: 05-11-2019 ::
this static treatment of hyper light
–>th r us t : all mediums —
theater, cinema, drawing,writing,radio
streaming, on-demand /[dead; how can He
reach me? \]
All of my fits of term-rage are TERMS
in all literal sensibilities of WORD.
all borders of all mental space contain
the Soul bilocalty.
and your lovely and fearful emotions
are exquisitely horrifying.
The true image of Love.
:: 05-10-2019 ::
WORD is larger than
typist fingers
as emotions are as the
wealth of a single word
And as this mass of feeling,
when this thing is on point
of coming forth; our
fears, our demons attack us
with force
the word
the image
attacks the mass of feeling
life or death?
:: 05-10-2019 ::
e.p.robles(c)
poetry is more than words
it is a stage
it is a canvas
it is the sky
and more
by colliding objects
by smothering silences
by squelching shouts
there is the rhythm
of a post-language
with images
with idea
with signs
eventually born
in eternal force!
:: 05-10-2019 ::
e.p.robles(c)
No need! No deed. Just now the sun has
come to rise (and you are proud?) that her breasts
are spread upon your bed. The spider laughs near
the tightest corner of the room, but shameful you
forgot her name. To those that have offended me
none more than disheveled men who call themselves
gentlemen. Mother! Let us succumb to temptation
that brings us to harm.
:: 05-07-2019 ::
bits and pieces of my mind some inside
a thought and mostly in pretty clouds
this secret, through the bowels of waves
kept it until this now. i, i cannot feel
pity; strong waves drowning rocks
and breathing fish — through severe orbit
furious eyes wish to remain calm rather.
A halo of glittering gossamer obscure
the periphery of your third-eye and
i cannot speak but say intimate horror
is unbearable during daylight.
so i scream. without mouth.
scream deep inside my stomach
wishing this strange novelty
of isolated nobility stops prowling
around my Soul.
:: 05-08-2019 ::
 | 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 
You must be logged in to post a comment.