Your Jesus likes
lollipops
the walking King
on the boulevard
of spiritual dreams
and i licked sticks
like the wooden
cross across life
Oh Mohammad too,
who knows where he’s
taking me — somewhere
I want to be like
my best friend
And religion is a sidewalk
with many souls
walking the path
towards their dreams
of an afterlife
so I’m taking my
best friend
She knows my buttons
pushing love and
all of my life
IT’S where i want to be;
me and my best friend
:: 02-15-2015 ::
and all the pain
lives within
a celluloid strip [YOU]
of moving pictures
across the space
of a point in time
it’s the tremolo
score of life
like shoes that fit
within your soul
it’s all of you
so you ride the back
of a bumble bee
it tickles your thighs
but the buzzing soothes
the soul within you
and painted lips
collect gossamer threads
you hold your breath
dreaming of a love
that died within you
it’s all the same
life-life, merry-go-round
:: 02-15-2015 ::
and dark love’s two lips
kissed me, the first
kiss, a make-believe
between two hearts;
she-do she-do
i was so sure!
until i cut my soul
upon her thorn-heart
a wasp-body at noon
stung a shattered cup!
the bud hung upon
a dried crying hand
and two eyes drowned
the shattered cup
spelling pain!
:: 02-15-2015 ::
IF like fields in spring
when mostly likeLove comes
and I were not present
like most times
And almost-Mostly scarcely here
should I-I could stand abroad
On golden fields to the plenty
;bounty, colors of nature’s kiss
-ing me Is a petite lip
with broad smile!
:: 02-10-2015 ::
i am so thankfully
nothing; once
thinking more
than life was i!
but to walk steps
made of life;
a birth and ex-
pectations schooled
the temperament
of my elements
and now so freed!
and thankfully
i think no more
but live this life!
:: 02-10-2015 ::
little be my Soul
what thoughts
do bring joy
a misfit my heart
that tripping
-forgiving debt
of my strange life!
To swear i saw
the cosmos
within your eyes
this i keep
to myself!
the little-Be Soul
of my tragic heart
and Poets Know;
Life is but an Art!
:: 02-10-2015 ::
AND potential forgiveness
the caught hook in a throat!
A painful pulling somewhere
between soul and heart
I choose the Ghost
who repeat in Song
“Life! That which I lost!
Over promises of empty boxes
shaped like a heart!”
:: 02-10-2015 ::
AND there within
the world
of a drop
tears falling
and history too
the memories
of all sweetness;
the songs and art
and writings
like poetry too
and like all things
that falling
eventually resting
deeply within the shelf
of universal consciousness
:: 02-08-2015 ::
I think today
i broke a word
in my ignorance
i did the deed
Within my garden
i stabbed with spade
upon a letter in damp soil,
lay the bee! in my haste
i slay-She! and shouted
in thunder: “Oh!
It cannot, BEE!”
:: – ::
i knew by culture, Death.
No man, if men are gods,
i met life in meager words.
And too, i met Love in ‘it’
the notes of dead Men.
I, too, met precious Life
in scribbled notes of Man,
the two women of my Heart
they keep the grounds neat
in famous garb. I should meet
them too, one day in the shade
we have much to say:
did you mean ‘Love’ or ‘hate’
was it ‘death’ or ‘date’
:: 01-24-2015 ::
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E.P. Robles | Poetry 
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