AND with no curiosity
nor enjoyment for life
each knock upon my
chamber heart ignored!
THAT door once built
upon intoxicating power;
a wilted stem o’ flower
is how I see my soul!
A ceaseless disregard
for popular accord
I wish to spread
the seeds of prose
and watch the flowers grow!
and before you ever thought
of Spring did you ever see
the bluejay sing?
:: 04-10-2015 ::
“I never knew this man,” said the woman.
“And I never knew that woman,” said the man.
And together for years they never knew
each other. It was the driest of all seasons,
like summers that smelled of slightly
wet husks of corn dabbled by a rare
storm. They tilled their own fields,
beneath a scornful bursting-needing
heart and dug rows of soil away from
each other. Curiously, they planted
the same seeds and gave as much to their
own ground. But apart.
The crops never took.
And famish ruled their land.
All because they never chose
to share the same till!
:: 04-06-2015 ::
And like smiles that seem to go away when the blue
becomes all my heart
And all of the world slips from my fingers too
in moments such as these I only wish to kiss you
and ignore the jesters
those who I never knew
So I sit upon a ledge and watch my time
upon a blue marble turning carelessly
when all I need is you
And I have come to know those jesters are masked
they’re all my faces killing me
expect for the memory of you.
:: 04-06-2015 ::
You’re so finely woven
a stretch of time upon
my eye and I dream of
colors to shoot across
your clean white face.
My painting! My canvas!
My own heart chambers
so shy! You have sat there
for three months and haven’t
had a period since then.
Upon my easel you wait,
hmm, wondering if you want it.
I forgave the paint-brush penis,
who penetrated your hymen.
You bled for days and I was left
with the mess of a baby
who still cries for the breast!
So the milk shall flow across
the gutters of a dirty street
and your artistry will refine
the masses of this garbage-
filled world of empty heads.
:: 04-06-2015 ::
she’s scared
i’m so wanted
she cares
i’m so dead
and along the night
creeping death
comes for me
she’s love
i’m so dark
she kisses
my purple lip
and holds me
all along the night
creeping death
so long dear
don’t forget
the casserole
burning all through
your heart — clock
tic-toc’ing soul
:: 04-06-2015 ::
I’m so broken like my knees
and i heard the cardinal today!
like my heart full of red
it sang a song to my heart —
but my head — just a dread
and it made me laugh!
No, not really just a jest
poorly formed; a knight
2’4 across my soul!
And the voices came today
and I thought I’d died alone
then i saw the Ones
Oh no! Not me!
They wore the world
and all it’s regrets
The poor and famous
the beautiful and grotesque
the people I knew —
and always loved!
:: 04-06-2015 ::
THAT nature! She soothed my
beating heart this day!
The sound of throated-love
She sang in trees till
Spring became a burning
summer, I too! Did I burn?
Somewhere upon the ode
of Botanic Gardens!
The birds. The floral
passion of God’s eyes!
And all of me went walking
that day with the mystery
— a woman I wish to know!
A maritime — a Marina
I wish to know!
:: 04-06-2015 ::
AND wide-eyed dreams like when I’m
with you so you say singing softly
and wind touching our hearts I am stoned
watching you a little hug
but eyes say dear we’re brightly
shining stars leaving worries
behind dreaming
And when the seas bring her breath
upon the shores I’ll kiss you
and wish I was a seashell singing
‘dear sweet dreams until love finds you’
and I’ll be here waiting
blue skies like
carnivals and pink kites
over white caps and worries
buried at sea
oh la la de la
children laughing
dogs barking I’m missing you
some day you’ll find
I was the dream
you let drift away
:: 03-28-2015 ::
My smiles are all inside
a jukebox attic of your
forever never-forgiving
bone cave mind!
I have a chisel sharp-thought
bringing me freedom
and you wish your highness
could bring every man
to his knees. I forgot my
parakeet who speaks
all the seedless words
of your tongue.
To wait for a simple sentence
conjures an ink-dipped heart.
I’m just a tattoo kiss
upon your heart.
:: 03-23-2015 ::
The vulgarity of life
like-voices to voices,
each one sharing nothing
but the fullness of noise!
I tell you, when I am three-
hundred years of age
I should still cringe
at such superficiality!
:: 03-24-2015 ::
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E.P. Robles | Poetry 
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