SHE has a dream
He has the debt
She always has what she gets
He’s a dreamer in the ditch
He’s a pauper that never regrets
Together, smiles and frowns
Tagging along are universal clowns
He never said, “I do.”
She said, “Whatever it takes.”
Into the mist as they forget
it’s all for love and little kittens
She has a puppet string to my heart
He has the gold of a different kind.
Beat me outta my sleep
Beat me outta my sleep
Beat me outta my sleep
Beat me outta regret.
:: 06.22.2022 ::
THE need to break free
from dogma and religion
politics and pseudo civility
leads me to believe
dreaming is a product
and living is the dream
I hope some day to break free
from objects — possessions
to imagine all the people
sharing all the world
where we live as one
Brother and sister
and the animals
and creatures of the sea
some day I hope this
— that you will join me
::01-15-2014::
And what if love
could be given
without fear
or inhibition
and just as easy
to receive —
as loving one another
wouldn’t hearts sing?
And what if love
could be received
without question
or expectation?
To live within a world
without broken hearts
love could thrive
like two close lovers
Lets begin to change
the color of our world
and believe in love
and let it grow…
::01/04/2014::
DEAR visitor I ask that you never assume
based on visual evidence that you consume
my age what you see — biologically
I am still within and maybe more —
arrested development in societal terms
but within the soul I am much more so
To dream of simple-that is earmarked youth
amazed am I in all I see — clearly believe
in me — thrives the little-see wondrously
Arrest the thought and hang upon me-say
what you do is what you are and how you live
I dream and think and love and see and wish to be…
the little boy who wonders and sees
in fantastical terms of ordinary things
and kiss-be the lovely life he shares with we!
::><::
 | Damien de Soto on Could I Be |
 | EPRobles on Could I Be |
| Damien de Soto on Could I Be |
| Damien de Soto on Drowning in Fear |
 | romanticallyinclined… on A PECK OF KISSmOuth |
E.P. Robles | Poetry 