DO you have a quiet place
deeply dear, within The No
One can enter here spot?
Me too. I keep it near
the love of YOU.
(and there the brightness
of sweet peace)
all as nature knows
is best and & i eyes
know knew now yes live
yes we LIVE
(the masters of skillfully
curved romantics called
P O E T S.
:: 02-08-2019 ::
then fear is ahead
when noone pays attention
back is forward when still
who c ould really kiss you
as you fly into space
while Spring is upon our world
if Heart approves this
f e eling of deepest confusion
my Soul approves exceptional
wisdom; your eyes wide and lips
parted to partake the rituals
within this domain called ‘life’
sweet spirits and souls i swear
wisdom the ingredient for a spicy
meal –the only holy m eal
of hearts dancing.
:: 02-08-2019 ::
W O RD S
i, as me if “i” am One
as though, when child
greatest mysteries revealed
in TWILIGHT.
there as then IS one
as alone as none —– we
look
confused // the gulf of mis-
pronounced history-LOVE
Thinking: –> surpass
fleshingly aches of Life;
Kiss and knowing ALWAYS
this one of ME
out of any reach.
W O RD S
:: 01-24-2019 ::
WITH thin fingers
(my love) who knows
worlds of than great;
a summer’s glint
more as eyes, love
as a disguise unknown
were victories nameless
beside their glories
Stood cold so damp
memories of
or
goldenly floating
inside my youth i
sang dreams penetrating
space over time
washed away all glint
of light within my mind
Well, we dare — escaping
alive silentness gods
to kiss “most beautiful
o most beautiful” hearts
her, my life, as liars
kill their kind.
:: 01-24-2019 ::
MEMORIES are wet streets
reflecting a light
And the distant storm
a table cloth of denial
An edge of coming Winter
razor blades of truth
Endings and beginnings
of wars and songs.
:: 01-24-2019 ::
There as still and quiet as dead.
Sleeping. ?
Yes.
The walls had grown used to the scene. The dreams tired of the same actors with different faces.
The dead take care of their own.
The corpse lit the room’s lamp and in the gray dark began to work.
It bathed the perpetually sleeping body that lay in bed. Trimmed the hair and applied blush to it’s cheeks.
The sleeping know nothing of the awakened world; the dead know nothing of the sleeping but that they sleep the deepest of all. Dripping, the legs were dried.
The sleeper’s eyes opened.
The corpse closed them with the coldest of fingers.
Placing the stiff scrub brush upon the nightstand the corpse was pleased with the Sleeper.
And smiled.
:: 01-15-2019 ::
Of course! It is apparently
— so, do you also know?
and how did you realize it
— too, by two’s, four’s
or even more?
We’re mad.
And now it’s written
so there it goes!
A dream, a thought
as a bird does soar
of course! And now,
–now, aren’t you glad.
We’re mad.
:: 01-06-2018 ::
Climbing away
from the dream
went a dreamer
who was alive.
Climbing away
from the dream.
He spoke aloud,
with a tired mouth
which was numb
from his sleep.
Climbing away
from the dream.
In the dark of night
he spoke:
“Awake from the dream!”
He climb away from
the dream into
another.
:: 11-25-2018 ::
WHETHER morticians wear
the makeup of cadavers
or madness is the friendliest
voice makes no difference
you are sick
to believe loud colors
have no mouth
and the trunks of people
grow deeply rooted roads
that have many toll booths
the rich pay for free things
and the poor steal dreams
those dead envy the living
and those alive
feel so dead.
:: 10-27-2018 ::
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E.P. Robles | Poetry 
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