Tag Archives: #love
INSPIRED BY ANDRE BRETON
(1896 – 1966: Freedom Of Love)
My wife with the eyes of an archangel of the nude
asking me to come to bed.
with the eyes of a unicorn riding on the back of a dragon
whilst i am the beggar upon a donkey
with the eyes of a column without mortar and of hands
My wife with the eyes of a lake the ocean flowed into
With the eyes of a pen and with the eye of a child
telling me wonderful bedtime stories of Life.
My wife with the eyes of a butterfly
of a woman who is just stepping off her horse
My wife with the eyes of a fox of the panther’s head
with the eyes of a snake
hissing at the inequalities of life.
My wife with the eyes of a cold drink of water
quenching my thrist for love and life.
with the eyes of the beak of a dove
with the mind of a bastard twin
with the skin of a smooth-jacket’s boot
with the brilliant smell of a green ear of corn
speaking through Nature with her heart.
My wife with the mind of a simile
with the body of a handful of sea-pearls
and with the Soul of a sun with a tail of serpents
My wife with the eyes of a broken dagger
and with the feelings of a smouldering petrol-bomb
My wife with the eyes of a pain in her thumb
like the swollen member between my legs.
My wife with the eyes of an exclamation point
My Love with the eyes of a box of bottled messages
as the curves of a wheel of apples
My wife with the eyes of a ring-gargoyle
My wife with the eyes of the German eagle
My wife with the eyes of a cannonball dropped into the rocks
carving love into the mountain of my personal Life.
My wife with the eyes of a crane weeping
My wife with the eyes of a nightjar’s feather
My wife with the eyes of a sceptre
My wife with the eyes of an ice-bucket containing a koi
My wife with the eyes of a house-smoker’s chimney
feeding all who come to know her kindness.
My wife with the eyes of the olive and of the lotus
My wife with the eyes of an eel and of the slipper of a cow
My wife with the eyes of an abacus containing a scarab
My wife with the eyes of a seagull
is my wife is my love is my own inspiration in this Life.
:: 02.07.2021 ::
1 Comment | tags: #ink, #love, #me, #paper, #poetry, #surreal | posted in #poems, #poet, #poetess, #poetry, #poets
so now
That the Iris opens her eyes upon early morning sun
that the wind dances her showy flowers and is luck
the lost voice of forgotten lovers?
some Not
when wind forgets its dance and green devours
(feelings) by nature’s beauty shall the fisherMen
of hearts sail from continent to unknown places;
their gravely instilled by amorous desire.
some NullAS not would never go there.
:: 01.21.2021 ::
Leave a comment | tags: #hearts, #love, #not, #NULL, #poetry, #sadness, #thoughts, #tricky, #words | posted in #plants, #poems, #poet, #poetess, #poetry, #puzzles
There is so much a man can tell you, so much he can say
You remain my power, my pleasure, my pain
To me you’re like a growing addiction that I can’t deny
Now won’t you tell me, is that healthy, baby?
Now won’t you tell me, is that healthy, baby?
My power and my pleasure; an addiction…
So “God is here, with you, and in you.”
There is a supreme and infinite pleasure that fills your heart.
Some languages of love will only permit love as a verb or simply a noun.
You are part of everything; you are not separate from anything.
Everything is part of you; you are part of everything; you are not
separate from anything.
So, i am and should fall large and in light that you shine,
can you see me? So baby, I compare you to a kiss from a dream
i live every day.
You may feel your experience of the world is disjunctive – somehow
disconnected. What is the actual nature of our existence? Is it
static, or in constant flux?
Maybe that is just your individual perception.
But we can try to figure it out by seeing how things affect us
This path we choose is about learning how to communicate effectively
with what we find, giving it meaning, and acting in ways that contribute.
If we are engaged in the pursuit of love in a real, open and collaborative way,
we can witness how relationships change and grow.
We may start with a story, but we are essentially learning how to be a partner.
We can see in our interactions how we are unbalanced, not yet aware that we need to change.
Over time, we discover what we are trying to hide, and begin to open up in our relationships.
The inner change begins with our hearts!
:: 01.06.2021 ::
1 Comment | tags: #crushed, #ink, #love, #lover, #poetry, #ragged clothes, #ragged men, #romance, #soull, #strangers, #truth, #words | posted in #aching, #adult, #afterlife, #alone, #alter, #angels, #angst, #Apocalypse, #art, #belief, #poems, #poet, #poetess, #poetry, #poets
WEEPING is a season at which lonely broken hearts die
upon hands and knees. they crawl and climb
toward steeper hopes and fall: some into fears
the monsters never named!
Aches and pains from human bodies
moving forward as mountains like magic:
from China toward the ends of Earth
as human spirit!
Queen! Her heart and Mind and Soul.
Spreads.
Jessica’s got a girl
girl,
James
‘s is dynamite to understand:
anytime reprimanded — you see her shake
avoiding complications as a Baroness
she B Low s men’s minds!
a fellow of soulMagical twisteandtwirless
so playful as a pussy cat and Queen;
a Class Queen lo –
lov-
e oh so full of
promise and extraordinary beauty!
:: 01.04.2021 ::
Leave a comment | tags: #ink, #love, #my granddaughter, #poetry | posted in #abstract, #love, #love letter, #love you, #please, #poems, #poet, #poetess, #poetry, #poets
Hey boys go get yourself a soy drink & cut the bottom of your pants
so true so sad
betray the roots of all that’s nature & lay down the dog and drown.
As you were; keep yourself in the dirt and create castles of mud
cause you don’t know what it means you don’t know what it means.
We can have a chore; some say nature (like more)
is more — whose song sang drowning the right way?
Sometimes i scream so hard
i shoot myself through the throat
and take words and ghosts and make
baby-paste for women.
oh right. haha. so right.
So lonely i cry at night all the time.
Wee can ask for more fate is more
(nature as a whore) who is fruit
who is poison? aaaaaah! This is a
song about losers and losers gain
so much more. Especially when you have
no idea what is more. Righteousness is God
and Righteousness is horney wanting more.
:: 12.30.2020 ::
Leave a comment | tags: #adult, #crazy, #dark, #fucking, #hate, #love, #poems, #poetry, #sex, #sorry | posted in Uncategorized
LIFE isn’t so easy from the weakest side
somehow it pulls you into the darkest life
and emotions, so hard to hide
and decisions you make are a habit
so hard to break!
Do you need a friend? would you take me
inside, alone in the dark?
Do you read the words you write —
are you sure sometimes the illusions
are not real?
Can you blame away the pain?
Can you leave me alone in the dark?
(in the dark?).
Do you need a friend that tells no lies?
Would you appreciate my words if i never
took a chance with your heart?
Habits, so hard to break.
Love, so hard to hide.\
In the dark.
In the dark.
In the dark.
:: 12.30.2020 ::
Leave a comment | tags: #crying, #love, #poetry, #sadness, #waiting | posted in #abstract, #poems, #poet
U hear that noise?
It’s an alarm.
It’s telling you you’re in a bad place
and you have to get out.
Don’t’ panic.
It’s just another day in life.
I’ve been here before.
One day I’ll meet you.
I’ll be at the elevator shaft
taking this elevator like everyone else.
Somthin’ would be so disappointing
for us if you don’t show.
So go and enjoy the view; “it’s only a plane
or two or three, no big deal.”
says the manager of tough reality — oh me!
:: 12.30.2020 ::
Leave a comment | tags: #abstract, #ink, #love, #poetry, #surrealism, #wordds | posted in #abstract, #poems, #poetry, #poets
i wish I had more time and opportunity to explain my disgust to your rust-stained sarcophagus. To offer a calm palate of meditative colors for our feelings (why not) — you seemed so surprised to be called from a glass prison.
Oh, blessed crystal, what do I have to do to kiss your hand with a succulent kiss for you have forgotten the grain of truth to your rust-stained sarcophagus!
To offer a calm palate of meditative colors for our feelings (why not) — you seemed so surprised to be called from a glass prison.
Oh, blessed crystal, what do I have to do to kiss your hand with a succulent kiss for you have forgotten the grain of truth and your heart could only love the person who feeds it for nourishment — is a difficult task; so you resorted to Cupid’s slingshot!
But here’s an alternative: follow my heart down the garden path, until my sticky feet block the entrance of Cupid’s grave.
Here — get me the jar of colorful paint and I will show you the
sparkle of love.
Here — get me the fork and I will show you the flavor of our love
that came from one man.
Here — get me the ball and I will smash it across my canvas of life.
Here — get me the pencil and I will draw you a gentle, tender picture.
Here — get me the jar of colorful paint and I will show you the
sparkle of love.
Here — get me the fork and I will show you the flavor of our love
that came from one man.
Here — get me the ball and I will smash it across my canvas of life.
Here — get me the pencil and I will draw you a gentle, tender picture.
Here — get me the paint bucket and I will lay it on a canvas of life
It was exactly 14 days since you told me you left the store early.
14 dreary days and I do not think you’ve been here once (not that I
would blame you for believing it).
14 days since I was mean to you, and then you said you’d be back
by 14.
:: 12.24.2020 ::
Leave a comment | tags: #abstract, #death, #hearts, #ink, #life, #love, #paper, #pen, #pencil, #poetry, #romance, #skin, #thoughts, #wonderful, #writers | posted in #1800s, #abstract, #aching, #analogies, #confession, #depression, #fascination, #poems, #poet, #poetess, #poetry, #poets, #prose
The nasty dark night ate the sun!
The farmers wailed against the dim moon,
“Be sane, or make it otherwise!”
Yesterday i awoke with a torn brain
against lover’s thousand acidic eyes
ripped apart by dying beds.
My screaming wish held but just Ourselves–
and Immortality.
:: 12.21.2020 ::
Leave a comment | tags: #deep, #fear, #hardship, #hearts, #love, #night, #pain, #poetry, #sadness, #sorrow, #sun | posted in #1800s, #please, #poems, #poet, #poetess, #poetry, #poets
As my sensational sensual moments bleed away and are no more seen by the vilest minds
my face deep within the riches of Earth’s soil away from unthought wars!
Unburdened by high wilt of human rine–
as pure Love has championed over darkly love.
And smallest voices as new born children spiritually cries of Spring keeping new born
butterflies afloat, is where Love strives
as droll god-beasts!
Such is the dance of perception as a reflection
through a prism; or early morning dew drop.
Time that not be for us — as purple roses
are sweeter to the but for me: deeper!
:: 12.21.2020 ::
Leave a comment | tags: #blood, #fear, #heartache, #hearts, #ink, #love, #pain, #paper, #passion, #prose, #red, #writers | posted in #1700s, #poems, #poet, #poetess, #poetry, #poets
E.P. Robles | Poetry 
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