BURST<!> That life could!
By passion the greenest
trees and FruitSun rise!
My eyes caught upon that
morning thighSkies I saw
this nature within you too
I go my love, my dearest beloved
there by the boldest path between
the largest oak and field
o’flowers–toward this dream
of eternal bliss!
BURST! Paints a life of
lovers!
:: 05-11-2015 ::
BY all those that are living
have traveled from that which
is dying
or dead
And from that knot
to the ultimate unraveling
those that are living
will have traveled this far:
to dying
and even death!
:: 04-29-2015 ::
Did you see? I dropped my phone
three times today
by noon
And it has yet to break but
I am trying but the devilish
device is strong!
unlike me
I dropped by three before sunrise
and four before I hit the door
that greeted me
the world is strong
but me; that broken heart!
And it does seem so adventurous —
the one accustom to guises and masks
so I fade I melt
And the sun laughs a million flames
that lick my burning skin
and I’m free to walk alone
away into oblivion
:: 04-08-2015 ::
AND how many skies
for a single soul?
Just one and none,
if it may be!
The Soul is higher
than any sky when placed
upon soil;
its eyes toward the sun always
and when released
from skin it paints
the sunrises
for all to see!
:: 04-10-2015 ::
AND with no curiosity
nor enjoyment for life
each knock upon my
chamber heart ignored!
THAT door once built
upon intoxicating power;
a wilted stem o’ flower
is how I see my soul!
A ceaseless disregard
for popular accord
I wish to spread
the seeds of prose
and watch the flowers grow!
and before you ever thought
of Spring did you ever see
the bluejay sing?
:: 04-10-2015 ::
My smiles are all inside
a jukebox attic of your
forever never-forgiving
bone cave mind!
I have a chisel sharp-thought
bringing me freedom
and you wish your highness
could bring every man
to his knees. I forgot my
parakeet who speaks
all the seedless words
of your tongue.
To wait for a simple sentence
conjures an ink-dipped heart.
I’m just a tattoo kiss
upon your heart.
:: 03-23-2015 ::
My smiles are all inside
a jukebox attic of your
forever never-forgiving
bone cave mind
I have a chisel sharp-thought
bringing me a freedom
and you wish your highness
could bring every man
to his knees. I forgot my
parakeet who speaks
all the seedless words
of your tongue.
To wait for a simple sentence
conjures an ink-dipped heart.
I’m just a tattoo kiss
upon your heart.
:: 03-23-2015 ::
Today it was the, “short-sharp” pains
of a 5th Avenue-dressed-like soul catcher
that teased my spirit to life. Tomorrow
I believe the Southern attire with bare teeth;
a Mississippi-mud soul variety who will greet
me. The crickets have clamped their thorax-
heart and swamp frogs bellied up in boiling
bayou of THAT ONE. There’s still Southern
Comfort!
:: 03-23-2015 ::
I have a devious
minor chord
: it begat life
which I knew —
the fallen stems
of walking
lifeless shadows!
I could hug a
section of any
street if it
loved only me!
and the god-
damn birds
are lovely lean-
ing Songstress
words I am
compelled to die
for! Raw throats
of morning song
— I die.
:: 03-23-2015 ::
It’s the experience
of life that sculpts
the soul!
I too wondered why
then knew! My flesh
spoke too loudly while
the sun baked my fields!
I had the ultimate choice:
to tend to flesh or clean
my own — I choose life
and damn the flesh!
:: 03-24-2015 ::
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E.P. Robles | Poetry 
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