A COMPROMISE.
THEN? Eternity.
It is numbers
beneath thoughts.
A tower of Souls,
a weak cry.
Evening dying
A day that’s on fire.
Souls with mouths eat
their throat —
in their common way.
Defile the trickster
you stole away.
The body’s skin carries
the satin embers of
this brilliant glow.
To apprehend the thorn
that twists within your
side — what? Eternity.
It’s fled with the sun
and gone to the sea.
:: 09.03.2020 ::
MY heart open:
to give my treasure to you
my tiny world of a forever
summitless peak until i heard
my soul singing along with a bird
: a chorus as wide and long as
the greatest desert; as nothing like
the joys of that voice!
i eat the flames of heat and taste
the dry sands of the Sahara Desert —
dreaming of grass and rains (all are
WITHIN my HEART!
:: 08.31.2020 ::
MY heart and mouth so full and loaded
my poor mind dribbles at the brain stem
— caporal! women squirt love and gleem
within eyes (no dirty words) under the
full pregnant moon and marshy land
i felt this gift — such a blessed
single laugh, my poor mind dribbles
at the stern of my spine___
in the night time we go
so entertained by o abracadantic waves
so hello hello! so lewd, so ithyphallic,
a wheelhouse a whorehouse a heavenly
undeniable pleasure of corrupted pleasure.
i ask the porcelain woman to take
my hands Bacchic hiccups and her slim hips
i swallow my heart inside pleasure
she is over me and assured as all i know;
heaving and thrusts of love and meaning.
:: 08.31.2020 ::
i would sink if the moon left these shores! picture of myself,
bright floods! seeking shadowed roads. Of yellow and green
cellophane hearts –into the willows of an old courtyard.
O my dying quiet hearts of arts and words of black dog,
brown shepherd hungry formasters — bitter peaches upon the ground :
while sulfur and evil drown in shallow swims.
Oh but Lord! through amaranths and Sahara blues as fire and creepers
seep through the widow’s cage! i walked Guianan without shoes
and flew through the ducal window on such a moonlight as the blessed bindweed.
Across ages of time and hordes cross our aged Europe.
Every soul crosses the moors — all warriors!
:: 08.31.2020 ::
Shinning through the skies & of nothing particular continually towards the dark azure, where minds and hearts shimmer __
eats souls and young hearts in your young evening
— the tulips, all colors and a pessaries of ectasy!
i said hello, when the weather was wet and tight
for their living; the lily dring pink loathings
from your lonely mouth!
i screamed into the night and heard no thing
love crosses through customs ; your purple
bra bathe, swells in the morning breeze
— as a painter i painted roses as your
vagina / swollen with a thousand octaves!
i am the son and the heir of a criminal
heart of lust and soul — you shut your mouth
taking of blue lotuses or sunflowers,
pint footprints of basset-hounds in moon’s
silver twilight;
oh, shiny vulgar sex object-man:
i go about things the wrong way —
dickinson window stanz form;
following young girls making communion!
i pull the weeds and the old greenery,
standing upon their own — they go home
and want to die. pulling vegetable fancy
flowers — forsaking cock-‘d men;
and old gallons — not rattlesnakes.
just vegetable dolls.
:: 08.31.2020 ::
my MIND is of blood, coal fires, so many
deaths — aquilon as a warm blanket across
my heart — with no image of hate nor
vengeance! Oh, never!
And yet corrupt souls embrace it.
politicians, high priests, and
senators: die!
A common soul; a common person controls
the fate of all things. And who wishes
blood? Blood flowing through the streets?
If so, if so, then my soul wishes war;
vengeance; terror! for the children and
women who are slain for this madness!
As nations writhe in its bite:
enough republics!
enough of emperors and calloused kings.
so be it if we shall be crushed
so be it if America and great nations
vanish. The voice of an any poet shall
spread vengeance across cities and over
oceans!
:: 08.31.2020 ::
BLEEDING;HANDS OF KIND SOULS
bleeding;hands of kind Souls
dirty cleaned by smiles)
i tell :
you, i love your precious Heart
except your terrible tears
THE ONES
which tear us apart(wraith a clinging
with wraith) as two worlds
colliding as ghosts drowning within
silent thunder?as a thousand years we
could live but if i hurt you; by the ebbing
tides of a supreme ocean largest shudder)
as when death spoke –> never was death
so alive;chaos could live for a thousand
years(scream–as squashed grapes into wine)
my blood screams and tastes If as some world
of a spark.
:: 08.29.2020 ::
bleeding;hands of kind Souls
dirty cleaned by smiles)
i tell :
you, i love your precious Heart
except your terrible tears
THE ONES
which tear us apart(wraith a clinging
with wraith) as two worlds
colliding as ghosts drowing within
silent thunder?as a thousand years we
could live but if i hurt you; by the ebbing
tides of a supreme ocean largest shudder)
as when death spoke –> never was death
so alive;chaos could live for a thousand
years(scream–as squashed grapes into wine)
my blood screams and tastes If as some world
of a spark.
:: 08.29.2020 ::
The corner of Despair and Regret
with a gray thought her singular tale
a distinguished title of blood and foam
Fetus of feeling no more
eyes never looking aft but
oblige a tree auditor
across the street
footfalls across
wet streets
hellish regrets of
that unknown giant
of all words i stalk
is despair the trembled unknown
whose slippery body is Death’s
greatest pal; a young woman within
an older male’s path –> sweet slow
animal fearsomely who do keep her
Sunday flower.
:: 08.29.2020 ::
In fright of voices she spilled a torrent of tears
of a frozen sun, like new born babies so,
today a mysterious desert day: we serve the servants
in the end with a body by eyes of excidium sweat
an aroma imparted within effervescent hearts.
Painters, poets and politicians
; gods, demons and angels —
we pull the fish from our nets
and our own spears of terror —
hey my accountant forest green
fans of longing death attracts
divided thirst and i love the
sound of morning birds singing
over my cold grave of stiff
drinking paper signs.
:: 08.24.2020 ::
BORN into a hot summer
of discontent
abandoned by gods
and souls
was the new born fetus
now senseless
; heels upon a skin
so pure as snow
everywhere and everyone
who saw him smelled an ocean
salt and blue skies
: humans always choose the house of
the murdered — stale smell of perfume
and used cigarettes absorbing the idol
of going in and out of skin
broken water
birth pains
sadness uses
and pleases an immensity of the eagle.
of introduction to the love
of poetry and terror — we choose
to ignore the songs of nature
and her beauty.
WE
distrust wheat that talks.
:: 08.24.2020 ::
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E.P. Robles | Poetry 
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