Tag Archives: #abstract

May 10, 2024

Illusions Are Lies (Like You)

By EPRobles

the Fly ate the paper
its thin legs stuc k
on economic condition

it won the war
flying away

the monkey saved
itself by not
eating the fruit
of God’s tree

shit escaped the human
orifice and became hero

piss passed the tubes
of humanity

and fed the rivers of
human nonesense

God’s eyes died
watching creation

and evil prevails
slinging mud princes

buy and princesses
pain eyes and cost

souls aching for
the lies of illusion.

:: 05.10.2024 ::

Poet’s Notes:

THIS poem is a poignant commentary on the human condition, filled with allegorical imagery and profound insights into societal and existential struggles.

The title, “ILLUSIONS ARE LIES (LIKE YOU),” immediately sets the tone for a critique of falsehoods and deception, directed towards individuals or systems that perpetuate deceit. The use of parentheses around “LIKE YOU” is a direct address to someone embodying deceit or illusion, adding a personal and accusatory tone.

The imagery in the poem is striking and multi-layered. The depiction of a fly consuming economic conditions, only to “win the war” and escape, symbolizes the transient and ephemeral nature of victories in the face of larger systemic issues. The monkey refraining from eating the fruit of God’s tree alludes to the biblical story of Adam and Eve, highlighting the human tendency towards self-preservation even at the expense of moral or spiritual fulfillment.

The juxtaposition of bodily functions like defecation and urination with broader themes of creation and divine observation adds a visceral and unsettling dimension to the poem. The notion of excrement becoming heroic and bodily fluids feeding the rivers of human nonsense suggests a degradation of values and a perversion of natural order.

The mention of “God’s eyes died watching creation” conveys a sense of abandonment or despair, as if the divine has turned away from humanity’s destructive tendencies. The concluding lines, with their reference to “mud princes” and “princesses,” evoke a world where power and privilege are built on falsehoods and suffering.

Overall, my poem serves as a stark indictment of human folly and the illusions that perpetuate suffering and inequality. Its imagery and language demand reflection and introspection, urging the reader to confront uncomfortable truths about the world we inhabit.

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May 10, 2024

God is Static Thoughts

By EPRobles

FOR the IQ below 110

  • Jew is not a race

for the IQ below 90

  • Jesus was a Jew

from the IQ below 70

Your mother
and father
are not blood related

UNLESS…

you are on this TIMELINE

then ALL ARE RELATED.

:: 11.30.2023 ::
(c) 2023-9999

Poet’s Notes:

As the writer of this poem, I approach “GOD IS STATIC THOUGHTS” with an appreciation for its brevity and its potential for profound insight.
Let’s analyze this poem:

Title: “GOD IS STATIC THOUGHTS”

The title immediately suggests a contemplation of divine or existential concepts, with “GOD” representing a transcendent force and “STATIC THOUGHTS” implying eternal or unchanging ideas. This sets the stage for a deep exploration of metaphysical themes.

Stanza 1: “for the IQs below 110 – Jew is not a race”

The poem begins with a provocative assertion, challenging conventional notions of identity. By tying intelligence levels to understanding, the poet highlights the complexities of categorization. The statement “Jew is not a race” challenges simplistic classifications and invites the reader to reconsider the multifaceted nature of cultural and religious identity.

Stanza 2: “for the IQ below 90 – Jesus was a Jew”

This stanza continues the exploration of identity and challenges preconceived notions. By affirming Jesus’ Jewish heritage, the poet prompts reflection on the interconnectedness of religious and cultural identities. The juxtaposition of intelligence levels with theological assertions invites the reader to consider the implications of knowledge and understanding on belief systems.

Stanza 3: “from the IQ below 70 – Your mother and father are not blood related”

Here, the poem takes a deeply personal turn, disrupting traditional notions of kinship and lineage. The assertion that one’s parents are not blood-related challenges biological determinism, suggesting a broader understanding of familial bonds and relationships.

Closing Lines: “UNLESS… you are on this TIMELINE / then ALL ARE RELATED.”

The final lines serve as a profound conclusion, emphasizing the interconnectedness of all existence. The word “UNLESS” suggests a conditionality or exception, highlighting the unique circumstances of individual existence. By invoking the concept of “TIMELINE,” the poet underscores the temporal context of human experience, while the assertion that “ALL ARE RELATED” speaks to a fundamental unity that transcends conventional boundaries of identity and understanding.

Overall, “GOD IS STATIC THOUGHTS” offers a thought-provoking exploration of identity, intellect, and interconnectedness. As the poet who wrote this prose, I admire the poem’s ability to provoke deep reflection on existential themes and challenge the reader to consider the complexities of human experience.

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May 10, 2024

The Blind

By EPRobles

It was five o’clock when done 

the house of the incredibly blind

the last clock made for sightseers

for those that see

Outside the birds were flocking

Outside the humans were mocking

Inside i stood my stable ground

holding onto a thread of life

Seeing is not always believing

See, it’s not visual 

See, it’s not love

People want forgiveness

Its incredible senses

Why so hard to find

its imagination in life

Let’s me guide you

Spending light by seers 

all my days this dark world

i use words to visualize

To see what eyes fail to see

how bipeds are maimed

forgetting a perfect picture

For some handicapped are more

than sightless life

a hell that we tend to hear

But is it the world 

or is it me?

\don’t make me lose my mind/

A soul floating in vast space

Stay to see the world ignite

and explain to me what you see

I’ll tell you what is real 

Every time.

I paint a perfect picture ~~~

\a beautiful world not seen

by humanity.

:: 05.10.2024 ::

The Poet’s Notes:

As a poet, I wrote, “THE BLIND,” as an exploration of perception and reality.

I attemped to exercise the imagery as a vivid and thought-provoking life-form, inviting readers to reconsider the significance of sight and the limitations it imposes on our understanding of the world.

Using contrast between the external world, where birds flock and humans mock, and the internal world of the narrator, where stability is found despite blindness, was meant to be striking.

It highlights the disconnect between appearance and essence, challenging the notion that seeing is synonymous with believing.

The repetition of “See, it’s not visual; See, it’s not love” reinforces the theme of transcending conventional perceptions, suggesting that true understanding comes from within, from the senses beyond sight.

Moreover, I labored to extend the exploration of imagination as a means of perception to make it compelling. By using words to visualize and create a “perfect picture,” to conjure a transcendial physical limitation to perceive a world unseen by humanity is my testament to the power of creativity and introspection.

The closing lines, questioning whether it is the world or the poet’s perception that defines reality, leaves a lingering sense of ambiguity and introspection. It prompts readers to contemplate the subjective nature of reality and the role perception plays in shaping our understanding of the world.

As an old man and poet, I believe “THE BLIND” is a thought-provoking and evocative poem that delves into the complexities of perception, reality, and imagination.

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April 30, 2024

Within My Shoes

By EPRobles

PURPLE home
so soft
window candy
eye see you
Razor light
On a finger
ruby ring
And all
to prove
you have life
It takes a fast
car lady __ if
you take backseat
rumble or front
seat to see
a double life
How i fell —
but then grew
once upon night
i once, too many
times fell for you
dreaming you
were there i once
painted romance
upon the walls

it takes a twice
thought to lead
a double life
never do it twice

Hold the brush
pick the paint
all you feel
when you’re near

It’s so easy to
play breakdown
it’s so easy to
say no poetry

So tough
So soft
when i’m living
within my shoes

:: 04.30.2024 :

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April 22, 2024

In Search of You

By EPRobles

I yearn for your lips, your voice, your hair,
Quietly and intensely craving as I wander the streets.
Food doesn’t satisfy me; mornings disrupt my thoughts,
All day I search for the rhythm of your footsteps.

I ache for your infectious laugh,
Your hands with a deep, earthy hue,
Longing for the smoothness of your fingernails,
I want to feel your skin like a ripe almond.

I want to bask in the sunlight that dances on your beautiful body,
The bold shape of your confident face,
I want to savor the fleeting shadow of your eyelashes,

And I wander restlessly, craving the twilight,
Searching for you, for your passionate heart,
Like a predator in the desolate plains of Quitratue.

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April 18, 2024

THE CONSTITUTION OF POETS ii (rev)

By EPRobles

THE brain; a sheet of bloodied paper

THE mind; a big scribble

THE heart; the murderer

THE soul; along for the merriest ride

EYES aglow with moonlit wonder

I float on rivers of liquid light

SURRENDERED to universe’s plunder

IN this psychedelic reverie of night

THE boundaries blur, time slips away

AS I merge with the infinite sea,

A transient soul in a cosmic ballet,

God only knows me and sets me free.

:: 08-23-2018 ::

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April 11, 2024

Toccata and Fugue in Dm, BWV 565 by J.S. Bach

By EPRobles

In shadows deep, where whispers lie,
A haunting melody fills the sky,
Notes cascade like raindrops fall,
Toccata’s touch upon the soul.

Does what it pleases.

In D minor’s somber key,
Bach’s masterwork sets spirits free,
Organ pipes with solemn breath,
Sing of life, of love, of death.

Fugue arises, voices entwined,
Counterpoint in harmony defined,
A dance of themes, a cosmic play,
Where light and shade in concert sway.

One i can say, one and one is Me.

O Bach, your music timeless soars,
Through vaulted arches, ancient doors,
Echoes linger, ethereal and grand,
In every chord, your genius stands.

Toccata and Fugue, divine embrace,
In each resounding, sacred space,
A symphony of depths profound,
Where Bach’s spirit forever is found.

Bach holds your arms until you feel
his fever___

Through swirling mists of ages past,
This opus holds its spell steadfast,
Bridging realms of earth and sky,
In Bach’s immortal lullaby.

So let the Toccata’s thunder roll,
And Fugue’s intricate whispers extol,
A legacy that shall endure,
Through centuries, steadfast and pure.

So, you must be creative hold me___

In shadows deep, where silence gleams,
Resonates the composer’s dreams,
Toccata and Fugue, eternal flame,
In Bach’s resplendent, timeless name.

As final chords softly fade away,
The spirit of his music will forever sway,
In hearts and minds, a lasting chord,
Of beauty from the keys of our Lord.

:: 04.10.2024 ::

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April 3, 2024

THIS LITTLE WOMAN & HER GROOM

By EPRobles

THIS little woman & her groom
)standing( like kind
of king like she got her
room -black candy –> tooth
muddy like mississippi water
not like candy but white:
a boquet of pretend flowers___
let masses crown it with candy
little birdie tweets & little
groom who steps on steps with leg
less voice not very much
large & sweeter of ring
upon slender finger moves me
so little he is
Little
ness be like early morning
muddy water -text-
pert expand: grO
wing is lovely string of words
how misunderstanding is easy
when you only have two eyes
to
s e e
& jessica (or someone in my tree)
ho
w i k n
o w
like it just
be
gan to rain but when I know when ir
rains
a

ppear
d love

:: 4.02.2024 ::

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March 31, 2024

Mistral Blows Pain Away

By EPRobles

Upon the stagnant sea, I stood sentinel,
My vessel inert, awaiting destiny’s nudge.

Atop that mirror of heaven, I reclined,
Restless, a sailor longing.

I shut my lids, invoking
Incantations for the gentle breath

That animates the briny deep,
To swell my sails.

Whispers in the waves obscure the glass,
Awakening me, like a lover’s murmur.

It enveloped me, whispering sweetly,
Roll over, roll over, roll over.

And in my ear, it murmured its name,
A strange melody, yet clear as day:

Mistral, mistral wind.

Though I’ve long gripped the helm, I surrender
To the wind’s pilfering of my dominion,

Spinning me, losing my bearing,
Nights fleeting like fleeting thoughts.

Yet it guides me,
To towering summits,

Too grand to be real.
Mistral, mistral wind.

Each hour spent in vigil,
I await that breeze to stir me,

And transport me back to that realm,
Magic coursing through my veins.

And I sigh your name,
Across the boundless expanse.

You’ve turned me into a mad dreamer,
Mistral, mistral, mistral, mistral,
Mistral, mistral.

:: 03.30.2024 ::

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March 27, 2024

L’étreinte éternelle – Réflexions sur l’amour et la dévotion

By EPRobles

Dans le domaine de l’affection et de l’instant présent réside son essence,
car il a ouvert grandes les portes à l’écume hivernale et à l’été
clameur – celui qui a distillé la pureté en eau et en nourriture – qui incarne
le charme insaisissable des lieux de départ et l’extase transcendante
de lieux fidèles. Il est l’incarnation de l’affection et de l’avenir,
la vigueur et le dévouement que nous, debout au milieu de la fureur et de l’ennui,
apercevez traverser les cieux des tempêtes et les bannières du ravissement.

Il est amour ! Un standard sans faille et redéfini, un miracle, un imprévu
rationalité et éternité : un mécanisme apprécié pour ses attributs fatidiques.
Nous avons tous goûté à la terreur de sa concession et de la nôtre : nous délecter de notre
bien-être, renforcé par nos facultés, égoïstement affectueux et passionné
pour lui, lui qui nous adore parce que son existence est sans limites…

Et nous nous souvenons de lui alors qu’il embarque à nouveau… Et si l’Adoration remue, résonne,
son Vœu résonne : « A bas ces superstitions, ces autres entités,
ces unions et ces époques. C’est l’époque qui est tombée dans l’oubli ! »

Il ne partira pas, ni ne redescendra d’un royaume céleste, ni n’apaisera
la colère des femmes, la gaieté des hommes, ou absoudre toutes les transgressions : car cela
est conclu maintenant, puisqu’il existe et qu’il est adoré.

Son souffle, son visage, ses mouvements rapides ; la rapidité impressionnante de
forme et action lorsqu’ils atteignent la perfection.

La fécondité de la pensée et l’étendue du monde !

Sa forme corporelle ! la libération tant désirée, la fusion de la grâce avec une intensité retrouvée !

Tout ce qu’il voit ! toutes les anciennes supplications et pénalités annulées à son passage.

Son époque ! l’annulation de toute souffrance bruyante et agitée dans une harmonie plus profonde.

Sa foulée ! des migrations plus profondes que les invasions anciennes.

Ô lui et moi ! un orgueil plus magnanime qu’une bienveillance abandonnée.

Ô monde ! — et le chant cristallin des nouvelles douleurs !

Il nous a tous compris et nous a aimés, puissions-nous, en cette veille d’hiver, d’un océan à l’autre,
du poteau bruyant à la citadelle, de la multitude au rivage, d’une vision à l’autre,
nos forces et nos sentiments sont fatigués, saluez-le, soyez témoin de lui et dites-lui adieu,
et sous les vagues et au sommet des déserts enneigés, suivez son regard, son souffle, sa forme, son époque.

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