Tag Archives: #classic

SLEEPERS IN THEIR GRAVES

That there were no Souls in the World – and no one there to blame – but Me.

That terrible sobs that took the time to lick a Heart that had forgotten how to sob,
or even how to whisper, were redoubled into shrieks, and they kept me from laughing.

O heart of Mine, why do you howl?

If Thou wouldst die, then in vengeance thy Redeemer of Whom, Whose Heart was my own,
and whose Whistle blew wild through the Rails, and who, at one moment when the Gate was open,
as he reached the top of the Jail, and searched the Valley of Doom.

To find my Prisoner there, and to know that his Out-cries had been so wretchedly contrived,
and, because they cried out so piteously, were not stopped at once!

How dare thou, thou Death, laugh? If Thou didst laugh at this, and the world now knows
the Death that has come to me, in consequence of the Puny Strength with which Thine own weakness left Me.

Let the judgment of all come in, and they make the old curse true and then i should not be sad.
For those mourners, the unquiet were they – how the Sleepers in the Grave would cry:
“Those poor Souls!

Is there one Death, for another?”

But though all sleep sound those that dream are always sad. i had a Brother, i knew,
who went for a Passenger, and his Friend had brought him, and held his hand when we left.
The Station – and in the Coach the Friend held up his Heart.

“Poor Brother, my Friend, have you never had Love?”
And his Friend said, “I don’t know that I ever had.”

Then they were gone.

And in my Brain, with a Funeral, i cried, “My Brother has gone!”

When my Brother and his Friend were lost 0i knew, in my Brain, that I should not die –
yet they had gone from me for ever and for ever.

All the Earth is a city of Death – the Sun that has shone bright and cast up its golden rays
must fade into Night, and the air shall turn cold, and the day will vanish like the evening:
when the Sun goes down, and it is Dark upon the Mountain.

Even the Stars, when the Sun is hot fade, and there are not as many as there once were.

The very Earth which gave brightness to the Branches of the Tree shall wither and die and fade,
and the Blue of the sky will dissolve, and the Earth Will shake and fall into the Sea.

The City of Death in which we live is like a great Prison under the Earth.

The Clouds that surround us and Sooth our Sorrows are but Cloths that cover the Dome
of the Pitiless Heaven – the Void where such Rulers as are but Planets, like our own
shall reign.

We have no Ruler who rules by Love, no View from Heaven, no Vision from the Stars,
no One to give us a Joy that would pass all our cares when we are set upon a Mountain,
sighing over the Valley of Sorrow, weither our Heartbeats cease.

Luna can but smile when She sees we have passed the Point
Where the Blue West gives the Shade of Night, and the Tree is pierced with Cold –
and the Night of Light does not come but the Winter wanes.

And all mankind is contained in the Castle of Death.

There is no Labor which an Angel can give, there is no Beauty, there is no Joy,
there is no Heaven.

So for us there is the Earth, and the Flock that bares all whose Flying
is but Death and Murder, and Death’s distant Call, and it is Death, of all things,
that gives us all:

That Taste of Beauty.

While we fly on the Wings of Love, and with our Tears water the Earth
with our Love, our Wings go, and with our Corpse Land to fall upon the Earth.

With the Time comes the Age
When Love is heard
And no ear
has ever heard it,
with the Age comes the Age
when Men look up,
and no eye has ever gazed upon
no Green Earth – when the Tree is cut down
the Earth is bare.

From Blame to Blame
From Sorrow to Sorrow
From Darkness to Darkness
And Death lies on Earth –
The Land, the Water, the Earth,
The Birds and Animals,
And Man – The Land, the Water, the Earth,
The Birds and Animals,
And Man – like the Wings of Love
The Kingdom of the Earth Is a Prison
Under the Earth.

When will We see our Land?
When will We fly away?
When will we light the Nights?
When will we light the Nights?
So my Song is very solemn,
But I hope in it one Hour

When we shall find our Land.
When the Day of Retribution
Is ended, and the sky is blue
and the Sun shines, and all that was buried
in the Dark of Night, shall come to Life.

The Earth shall be green,
The Trees shall yield fruit,
The Green of their Leaves shall radiate
all over the Earth.

We shall catch our Breath,
wnd thank God,
whose Love brought us together,
and made us Wings
for his Flock,

To fly away – the Wings of love.

My Story:

‘His Love is the Light that
shone in the World, 0when the Sun of Love
and the Golden Child was born in the Cave of Life.

And then the Angels said,
“Fetch the Child, bring him forth,
that he may be king of his Kingdom
but let it be done, in the Cave of Life –
therein he may reign

as Father and Son, for the King of Men
must not reign alone.”

They called the Child and said to him,
“Arise, Unto the King of all
the Happy Isle of Love
where You reign as
Emperor of Love.

The Angels called again the King of Love
and said to him, “Arise, unto the King of all
the Happy Isle of Love where You reign as
Emperor of Love.

And the King of Love Speak!”

“If you will not come with me
then fly away!
Fly away!
Fly away!
Let me be alone!”
And the King of Love left the cave of Life
And went up to the Heavens, and came down
and placed upon the Earth

all the Things that Matter.

:: 01.25.2021 ::


C R Y P TIC

i am other. Of no known
description. But, then if you
love me then mostly certain
you un derstand me? Knot.
so many painful feelings
inside my head their weight
falls deep into my stomach
as biled foods. Suffering
:as reaffirmation of Living.
As the Dead only Scream
from their condition and never
from pain. Lovely colors
are lit this way. My tongue
moves but my heart is cast
against a formidable Sea
— you know me. Cryptic!

:: 04-13-2019 ::
e.p.robles (c) 2019


ANCIENT ORIGINS OF VAMPYRE

Countess
Elzabeth
Bathory —
Psychosis
or remedy
for tuberculosis?
You — eccentric
woman of red
drank the souls
of all the dead
And Mary Shelly
licked the dreams
a color of Carmine
— raw pigment
of creativity!

:: 08-21-2014 ::