A COLOR empty of me
Washed hands bleached
Eyes know what wrongs
That kill every little
-ness of you // a thousand
Tears a thousand years
And i still don’t know:
Am i a nightmare?
A hero, or maybe some
one who touched the addicted
-ness of all you love.
:: 01-23-2019 ::
PLEASE sir, take away my eyes
you see the sky’s all wrong
spinning around (whatever i do)
it’s her, Mother Mary crying
upon her knees screaming;
i did it all wrong
and what i’ve done
cannot be undone
whatever i do
whatever i do
whatever i do
it’s all wrong
but all so true
Touched the skin
of a celestial being
just a little thing
changed me
changed the world
begging you take my heart
you see all that the world feels
i feel
i feel
i feel
the sky spinning all around
no matter what i do
:: 01-23-2019 ::
There as still and quiet as dead.
Sleeping. ?
Yes.
The walls had grown used to the scene. The dreams tired of the same actors with different faces.
The dead take care of their own.
The corpse lit the room’s lamp and in the gray dark began to work.
It bathed the perpetually sleeping body that lay in bed. Trimmed the hair and applied blush to it’s cheeks.
The sleeping know nothing of the awakened world; the dead know nothing of the sleeping but that they sleep the deepest of all. Dripping, the legs were dried.
The sleeper’s eyes opened.
The corpse closed them with the coldest of fingers.
Placing the stiff scrub brush upon the nightstand the corpse was pleased with the Sleeper.
And smiled.
:: 01-15-2019 ::
Of course! It is apparently
— so, do you also know?
and how did you realize it
— too, by two’s, four’s
or even more?
We’re mad.
And now it’s written
so there it goes!
A dream, a thought
as a bird does soar
of course! And now,
–now, aren’t you glad.
We’re mad.
:: 01-06-2018 ::
PREDAWN: my thoughts have chased
the moon away
like a wind caressing hair
and fingers lit by rising embers
of morning light.
My hand a river tremble-eddies
pour passion passing pink peaks
melting snow brings Spring
across a valley lush below.
Life.
An Olive Warbler brings the
song of Love as a sigh!
:: 12-24-2018 ::
Sometimes when i’m dead
the flowers smell better
And many times time
just drips on by
within my empty head
The light bulb sun
is burned out within
my room (oh dear)
and the cockroach
tells me not to fear
Jesus breaks his knee
on a viral meme
Politicians parody
the struggling life
of you and me
Holding on tight
to the horror sled
of this holiday
season of no reason
neurotic sales
schizoid crowds
smiling fiends
and the flowers
smell better
sometimes when
i’m just dead.
:: 12-10-2018 ::
Beneath this silence is hope
that you should never leave me
And love loves to love
but hope is that you remain here
that my weirdness is a little
me — and yours is as mine
is love; a quivering happiness!
:: 12-21-2018 ::
Climbing away
from the dream
went a dreamer
who was alive.
Climbing away
from the dream.
He spoke aloud,
with a tired mouth
which was numb
from his sleep.
Climbing away
from the dream.
In the dark of night
he spoke:
“Awake from the dream!”
He climb away from
the dream into
another.
:: 11-25-2018 ::
i like it when you whisper
and the world in hushed lips
fallingly desires more.
That you sing while speaking
all within my own heart
i too fall within you
filled within my soul
you and mine within yours
i like it when you whisper
and the world wishes too —
knows what madly
soaring hearts say when
the sun sleeps and angels
snore; i too fall within you
— are part of my soul
, stay forever
mostly i like your whisper-
love within my heart side-by-side
at night within the spooned bed
and moon smiles fallingly stars
wishing they had one as you.
:: 02-14-2015 ::
Rev: 11-10-2018
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E.P. Robles | Poetry 
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