today I had
a coffee shop cookie
and ate its rim
and fell into
a bean dream
where red pandas
were beating
hedonistic priests
living in my pocket
thankfully a stripper
fell through the roof
and suduced the barista
and the priest and beans
escaped through my spoon
and the twirling of my cream
all within my cup of coffee
:: 05-01-2014 ::
Passion
where is thy heavenly gift
Beg
I do for pastures of romance
Love
thee — angel follow me too
Kindness
compassion for all thy life
Understanding
wisdom from burning fire
Heaven
thou, dream I giveth prayer to
Love
is thy reason for living life
and desire
for love
escapes thy flesh
afire angelic wings
kissing devil’s lips
a Christ-passion
for all high and low
:: 04-29-2014 ::
It was so beautiful
before this age
and that died for love
I did a difficult day
when the water i met
and left the world
now back am i
and have to say
nothing has changed
memories of a past
which helps does not
beautiful is life!
but humans still beasts!
who killed me
more than once
but praise I do
that River of Life!
:: 04-29-2014 ::
this kiss of cold
–ness froze my soul
a tin can kicked
beyond winter’s road
hands in pockets
did not abate the shiver
ice-shattered thoughts
as I walk alone down
my cobble-path stones
across the way as I walk
and through a golden lilt
window-soul I hear
Chopin playing on air
my friend-soul I’m told
kissing my footfalls
———— as I go
:: 04-28-2014 ::
time, that illusion
it’s cousin – motion
neither exists
beyond human eyes
— all is static
never changing
just a unified field
expanding
contracting
and universal
consciousness
watching rapid flickers
of death-rebirth
:: 04-22-2014 ::
did you see! my kiss
in that breeze
maybe you saw
a butterfly-heart
wet and brilliant
flutter by
flutter heart
what season of love
my sun-bliss kiss
upon tiny lips
tulips to kiss!
that butterfly heart
a summer’s dream too
:: 04-22-2014 ::
How long
can a dove’s
feather survive
within a furnace
and what of
that first kiss
ever
does it still
press upon your
lips
what love exists
if not in time
forever imprinted
upon the heart
and if time ceased
would all love
cascade down
into your velvet
pocket of passion
and would slender
fingers nimbly touch
the lost love
of time’s passing
passion — never dies
:: 04-22-2014 ::
life is a stranger in boots
snake skin patterns moving
through wet night streets
and that blooming howl
on Bourbon Street cuts through
what’s left of your dark soul
Jazz notes falling into pieces
across reflective night streets
And when you’re strangely happy
you know you’re snake skin too
And when you’re deranged beneath
moss trees on a pirogue floating
a night spent in LaLaurie Mansion
will make the best
of other-worldly friends
life is a stranger in boots
and snake patterns know the moves
a cascading undulating twist
through Mississippi mud too
Marie Delphine LaLaurie loves you
She will invite you to stay a night
and that slave you become is ghostly
a torture for a slice of social life
And the mobs outraged == she fled
or maybe not…the moss knows
:: 04-22-2014 ::
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E.P. Robles | Poetry 
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