and rains came to clear
that thought (and lightning
still called walking upon
all fours) the world is the
world for kind as Me.
In lost society
are empty streets
and empty thoughts
the dead having died
have no more words :
even God and Government.
Like things are permanent.
And what you express
in his spirit is nothing
but word, “Mankind.”
Exit.
:: 01.16.2023 ::
Leave a comment | tags: #dying, #l;iving, #loving, #poletry, #thinking, #thoughts, #words | posted in Uncategorized
pieces falling once into place
now scattered as flotsam
broken over rocks of shorelines
and at last, love sleeps, eddies
of swirling thoughts.
tears of storms, clouds weeping,
Earth’s wet smell as herb: the
passion of our dreams.
:: 01.18.2022 ::
Leave a comment | tags: #aching, #dying, #lost, #love, #poetry | posted in Uncategorized
GOODNIGHT my love and dearest angel
how long since you should
have closed your eyes.
Can we save the deepest questions
for another Life?
I feel you have one upon your trembling
lips; how too I have since I knew you’d go.
And how ships have sailed.
And oceans eat the sailors of
brave hearts.
I promised I could never leave you
and so know: goodnight my love
and dearest angel and now it’s time
to sleep within the ocean’s deep.
Remember all the love we had within
emerald bay eyes — and as an ocean
i am rocking you to sleep inside this
ancient heart of mine.
Always a part of me.
:: 09.03.2021 ::
Leave a comment | tags: #dying, #hands, #lost, #love, #prose, #remember, #romance, #song | posted in #hearts, #lost love, #mind, #ode to love, #poetry, #profound sadness
Hath fed the common purpose That draws the very heart of man, to the sacrificial hero!
Dangerous and promising are these dreams which seem to come from the heart’s deep recesses,
as have cast a spell of melancholy that leaves one dim.
Only by speaking about them in former times, has the world appreciated these voices from the skies.
There are no age limits, neither to the quest for spiritual growth, nor to its testing.
Beneath each of these mysteries, some preface and others express the grandeur of a true meaning;
some have shed new lights, some, disturbing.
The grandest have revealed new truths, no matter how strong the prose, the content has to be true.
To reach a mystical insight the words which the thoughts themselves preface, express;to understand the concrete problems the language must have been created by the body of man’s brain to reach it, the mind must have been perfected.
No matter what subject has been investigated it has in common three fundamental elements.
They are reason, the senses, and a grandeur: and when they interact with each other in perfect harmony the knowledge of truth is attained; the deepest, most true meaning is comprehended. We learn what is true
when our instincts are the tools to do what we know to be so; we lose ourselves when we do not know what we are; and we should know our own nature when we have used our minds to understand ourselves.
Reaching the depths of the unknown, understanding the whole nature of things, you attain an ascent to light:
like the body in a dream defeated by the weight of the body, the body in an inner form makes its way up from depths of darkness: and when one experiences this one is reborn; and when one sees this one is changed: ‘Twas in this way the poet was reborn upon this earth; and all he could atone for his human failures.
This is a melody about a man on a mountain who hears the voice of the moon and, unknown to himself, alighted with the noble heart. But the mystic of the moon was an empty moon: ‘Twas of the body of man the moon had no heart; only that of his body could he love. In his despair he sought to sacrifice his flesh. But the voice of the heart and the words from it frightened him. Then he walked on the world through the nights of the year and dwelt in deep oblivion. But what could be said to him, in his darkness, when, suddenly, a light shone through the darkness? That was his awakening, it was a vision of an inner light which drew him towards the universe. He went back to his own child, and he passed along the familiar path but what was the purpose? He sought a hidden light to brighten his way: but when he reached the end of the firmament, there was no light. How could it come from below when there was no light above?
This is a story of a mother in her humble home with a little child in her arms, who is nursing, and unaware of the wonderful events to come, in spite of her heart’s eagerness and in spite of her pride. His little fingers possess the world with an innocence which the immovable forces Avenge and they are known by a loving heart. In the courtyard she prays: but who she prays for? The next she sees he is walking down the stairs : with him goes his hand and he stretches out his little arms when the little boy reaches out his hands
and they know each other. But there is no single sound of their happy greeting nor is there a single person
they meet: the space is also their meeting place.
Life.
:: 03.28.2021 ::
Leave a comment | tags: #death, #dying, #flesh, #ink, #love, #spirit, #words | posted in #aching, #anguish, #art, #beating heart, #poems, #poet, #poetess, #poetry, #poets, #psychology, #puzzles
Hey, hey, hey, hey!
The biggest market is pacifiers
You know what goes in pacifiers?
Another mouth to feed.
A vagina to suck!
I went to the market and said, ‘Hell, no!
‘Give me an organic glue
“If only we had time we would have inserted a fucking hole
in my balls. I could have given her diabetes.
Yeah, I could have forced her to eat cheese!
That smells like my wife’s pussy”
No (i have no wife! no!!!!!!)
Going back to nature is not just about foraging:
You have to stop
You have to let go
You have to give up
You have to ask, ‘How can I have this?
I don’t know about water.
I’ve always had a problem with water
And everyone refuses to feed Love.
Life so full of secrets. Then again,
something about water.
You’re searching for more than
What I have. Because something’s got to be
better than this!
Nothing is better than this.
When it’s time to give up, to move on
and to let go; to get to the next level
it’s a little later in the day. Hey.
I’m off to find water. I don’t know where it is
but it’s there.
This island is in trouble: our government is out of control
and sooner or later the disease will spread.
It will kill us all!
In my arms I cradle a gun
It is mine and only mine.
I need a drop to survive
If only I can find a vein
My mouth is watering
with the sweet relief
of Love’s heroin.
But it is not enough. My heart is racing like a fish on a line.
I have to leave but I cannot. My fingers are shaking
my veins are dry.
I need a drop to survive
I need a drop to survive
And the worst of it is I don’t know where it is.
But it is there.
I don’t know how to find it
I’m looking for water or Love?!?
Ohh
Ohh
I’m looking for water
Ohh Ohh
Water!
Ohh
I need a drop to survive
:: 12.23.2020 ::
Leave a comment | tags: #anguish, #darnkess, #dying, #ink, #lies, #madness, #paper, #people, #poems, #poetry, #sick, #writers | posted in #abstract, #analysis, #anguish, #attraction, #awaken, #poems, #poet, #poetry, #poets, #powers, #profound sadness, #quantum, #rape me
PEOPLE with eating disorders are “allowed” to keep their identity secret. You’re not allowed to be a person.
You are simply “a stomach that ate.”
Everyone who sees you has a lot of power over you. You must be nice to them, speak in a certain way, present
yourself in a certain way, and never be so self-conscious that you don’t want to eat.
You don’t want to eat because if you did, you would be severely sick.
You wouldn’t be in control of your life.
You would be a creature.
You would be weak.
It was during my treatment that I learned who I really was.
I understood that my eating disorder could be cured, because it was merely a disease of mind and body.
I didn’t have to be afraid of food, because it’s a powerful human tool.
I knew that I was not being a stomach that ate; I was a person who had been infected by a brain that
wanted control. My illness wanted to make me not a person but a mind that ate.
A mind that went through life being controlled, and told what to do, and how to feel.
A mind that no longer could think for itself.
A mind that wanted to give up control, but didn’t know how.
A mind that could think but couldn’t act.
I understood that I had to take back control of my life.
I had to make myself be a person who was not a stomach that ate.
I was a girl who thought, and had dreams, and wasn’t a blob.
I was young.
I was a daughter.
I had big plans for the future.
I was a Christian.
I was a girl, who needed love, and felt loved.
I needed to be loved, and loved.
I wanted to be strong, and able to live a life that my illness would never again keep me from.
I wanted to make a difference in the world, and to love others.
I needed to learn to love myself, and to use my illness to help me learn how to love myself.
I could choose.
I would choose.
I would love myself.
I could have a beautiful life.
I could be happy.
In order to be healthy, I had to learn to let go of that which I didn’t need.
I needed to let go of the need to control my life.
I needed to let go of that which scared me and made me afraid.
I needed to let go of the struggle to know what to do next.
I needed to let go of the confusion of what I wanted and who to be.
I needed to let go of the struggle to say no.
I needed to learn to say yes.
I needed to let go of my imagination, because life doesn’t work that way.
I needed to let go of my imagination, because my illness was reality.
I needed to let go of my imagination, because my disorder was my life.
I needed to let go of my personality, because my illness was my character.
I needed to learn to find my own self.
I needed to learn to let go of being tired of not being a stomach that ate.
I needed to learn to be a person, because being a person is what I wanted most.
And after I learned how to let go of that which I didn’t need, I became a person that my illness no longer could control.
I learned to say yes.
I learned to say no.
I learned to laugh, and be silly.
I learned to cry, and have emotions.
I learned to write, and speak, and love.
I learned to have fun, and to love life.
I knew how to make choices, because my disorder was not only no longer controlling my life, but was helping me to make choices.
My eating disorder was the healthiest thing that had ever happened to me.
It was a sickness of the mind, and a sickness of the body.
It was a sickness of the body that was a sickness of the mind.
It was a sickness of the mind, that could be treated, and a sickness of the mind, that could not.
I learned, over time, how to say yes.
I learned to say no.
I learned to find my voice.
I learned how to be brave.
I had not learned how to be brave when I was diagnosed, but I learned it with the help of my mind and my illness.
I learned how to be brave, because I had to be.
I had to be strong.
I had to be able to overcome this disorder, and be brave, because there was no other option.
I needed to be brave, for me, for my parents, for my friends, for my boyfriend, and for everyone who loved me.
I had to be brave.
I learned to say yes.
I learned to live in a world of uncertainty.
I had to live with the uncertainty that my mind and my stomach might not agree with.
I had to live with the uncertainty that my disorder would destroy everything that I ever wanted in life.
I had to live in uncertainty, for me, for my parents, for my friends, for my boyfriend, and for everyone who loved me.
:: 10.22.2020 ::
Leave a comment | tags: #dying, #eating, #eating disorder, #poetry, #sick, #vomit | posted in #poetry
skies so blue
scars so dull
life’s wild
love so cold
textured sun
within my mind-
shield:
every time a
big lost
fight to the
end — takes
both my hands
frown
forgiven
smiles
bring the
sun.
:: 08.19.2020 ::
Leave a comment | tags: #dying, #harmony, #love, #poetry | posted in #abstract
i met my mind inside a hampering down
across the skies of my expansive face
those elder souls we never see came to me
and you: in dreams. i allow the sun to
beat down upon my face and breath its winds
: the elder race
spoke from atop the
clouds singing everything
to be revealed in time.
I was strong and stressed
for not a word i heard or note
oh oh oh — the skies scream
horns and unusual things.
ooooooh. Yea. I am blind.
Everything seen is within my
eyes you sang/bled /visions
gleam in every air.
try to find you
try to recapture everything
had/ far sounds of cities,
in early evening: within
that place of yellow desert
scream//so much so and so
everything known
:: 07.31.2020 ::
1 Comment | tags: #crqzy, #dead, #dying, #gone, #poet, #poetry, #prose | posted in #1900s, #a hundred poems, #abstract
she wore
mortician’s
makeup above
the once
breathing
pores || i died
once,twice &
more ||then buried
was she within a
barren field of
nothing more.
:: 07.12.2020 ::
Leave a comment | tags: #alive, #died, #dying, #emotions, #feelings, #living, #love, #poetry, #prose, #stars | posted in #abstract, #life, #love, #poetry, #poets, #words
i forgive all when she sings
“over” (mother of my children)
so such a shame and it brings my
children to say:
“bless you for the heart you sing dad”
so i say we’re the same when we’re to-
gether (so strange) without Her : so
God bless our hearts
for the song you sing my children,
for the hearts you are removes the darkness
of our falling apart — all
ah – for the heart you bring every time you are:
ooh ooh ooh and God Bless
your Hearts! My (such a shame) without your mother:
but sun lights this song you sing — OUR HEARTS.
:: 07.11.2020 ::
Leave a comment | tags: #academia fuck yourself, #dying, #fuck you, #poetry, #prose, #really?, #sick | posted in #abstract, #life, #love, #poetry, #poets, #words
 | 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
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