E.P. Robles | Poetry

WORDS are solid like symbols who make imagery numbers real
And it hurts when you look away; so afraid to meet real;
Where do your eyes roll? Inside a cave bone of human skull
and the rest, just, just decaying meat?

Mister Munster man — little lamb and ham
the tender feelings between my aching feels
like burning stars falling upon my bleeding eyes
and Modern Poetry is a deceased body of regurgitated
bile “ we need new renewed souls something like

the discarded embryo’s some use as a contraceptive
device //my priceless advice __> not any chance,
keep your words to yourself less they invade my
perfect thoughts about horror || she took away
during the middle of the day the unborn dreams
of someone (like always “somebody else”) put
the foot of a heel upon the throat of one who
never spoke! NEVER! EVER! EVER! FOREVER!

And so many loose eyes rolling around within the
world’s skull

so many eyes
so many lies
so many deaths
so many lost chances
to make the world a wonderful place.

:: 11-22-2017 ::

I turn on the light of my heart
and there it burns away the darkness

And why do not most people know
hate and anger are that diseases
known as barely living life?

It (for me) is the greatest mystery!
Are not we all weak and frail:
by flesh and bone? And that historical
amnesia by natural disasters and war?

Why? Why do educated people (by money paid)
believe they know all?

And can you believe in just one of your
dreams tonight?

:: 11-19-2017 ::

Is the heart the chamber of love?
ANd does the butterfly weep?

Was Einstein the equation of compassion?
And Geometry the study of a woman’s curves?

Do fish go to detention if not in schools?

And stars; pinprick holes so God can
see what we do with our Souls?

:: 11-18-2017 ::

How many graveyards are there in heaven?

And does the bee sting
when happy?

Do two lovers quarel over
complete satisfaction?

Is it true music educates the savage
beast within our human DNA?

:: 11-18-2017 ::

within my despair
within my unrepaired
mind /time flows
and fate something
like disgrace
and all the kind faces
with their lips kiss
the black matter of
time :|:
Also so tired
my vacant eyes cry
seeping tears falling
everywhere
Within Spring and summer
fall and Winter
it’s over all over
sweet thighs smell as
coconut oil against the sea
and I sing again:
within my despair my unrepaired
mind flows slower than time
and fate sometimes like disgrace
so my vaqcant eyes cry seeping tears
falling eveywhere …

:: 11-17-2017 ::