PRESS the flower & scents
into lab tubes //&\\
present futures ——
aroma pursue’d dreams
: so are WE of SOIL
the oblisque of Ancient
enticing smoke /ink within
Skin so Human taste:
echo say: we can-z
remember we are not at
all — wail wail wail
for air. We sleep +
AWAKEN.
:: 05.12.2020 ::
It’s a complicated world
ruled by pain and fear
Everything’s ‘will you swim
or will you fade’
the smallest things
hold us back
the madness outside
these walls
are nothing compared
to what’s within my halls
Brain traffic: s/o confused
grid-locked & neurotically fused
Drain my Soul
Brain traffic: over/used
fear-porn-fed till your dead
then Life’s on hold
it’s all Inside your head
BRAIN DEAD.
:: 03.27.2020 ::
IF you follow me bring the dead along for all the children have suffered and all
madmen pollute || ~~ IS GAME OVER “? between sun-beating down & STARS beating
psychotic clowns/ the pogo clown has died forever.
If you could you might adjust your eyes against all monsters that follow
…kiss me if you survive \\perishing is a buildingGRACE of reSKINNING the Soul
(oh whoa oh whoa oh wow oh no oh hey)
…just say the hardest price to pay //
are the things for free // eat and drink
remain my memory deeply between crimson &
sun-baked lips (music stretches thinner
e a c h & e v e r y d a y
carry on even if the stars extinguish
the very hurt you receive time &
space str e t c h ed pass a threshold of
mortal pain…you see and creation is reversed forward
God have mercy upon our weakened hearts
shame shame it’s the only world we have
and each other — there ain’t no denying (OH mother! No denying LIFE
is a THORN against my eyes; as i bend down i try to find my BEING
within a deeply yelled moan; i’m dying i’m dying i’m rolling round
a desert stream — shambalah come again against trail dust and kasmir
i am waiting i am decaying i am a mote of Poet
t r aveling inside OPEN space considered: static syntax
and congealed moments upon the professional grace of unspoken
words. whoa…whoa…it’s the hardest price to pay when things
so expensive are for free.
:: 03.03.2020 ::
WORD is larger than
typist fingers
as emotions are as the
wealth of a single word
And as this mass of feeling,
when this thing is on point
of coming forth; our
fears, our demons attack us
with force
the word
the image
attacks the mass of feeling
life or death?
:: 05-10-2019 ::
e.p.robles(c)
Upon sensual Spring came birds
cacophony of hymns in chirps
was sanctuary from fatigue
of Soul and Mind.
Trees. Flowers.
all of destiny’s needs;
no mouths no lies.
Savior, lying upon the road
with broken bones and torn
lip hung like a cross; His
feet slices, with supernovae
eyes and wavy hair. My arms
reaching toward his lane
as life-traffic bombarded
effort. i am the unworthy
reaching for cosmic purity;
the human wanting to touch
Eternity. Incoherent words,
which i cannot speak here.
Upon sensual Spring came
birds. Their song marking
my Soul and Mind.
:: 05-07-2019 ::
UPON Dali’s lashes the clocks have
melted persistently as Time
battles weak waves of gravity
And then (that some whisper) a
name murmuring midnight we all
stand before the Cosmic God
who has No Name; maybe “Ah.”
As glass cocks turn to stone
the soft touch of skin burns
and then a charming strike
of lightning buries the lips
of ruins /my mother has hips
that born a grown fetus
through the strongest arms
of all forgotten women
And my heart drawn by Picasso
my face by Jesus and my Soul
by Space.
It is here
the engraving plate that
printed all humans /but the
hand of that apprentice
has left us for another
universe.\
:: 03-29-2019 ::
Creep. Inch-Crawl here.
Thrum’p dead weight slide
Join-locked SNAPPED
knee raised /
/
<FOOT) swoop goes
that beast down the alley
of arrow needs || caused my eyes
to hemorrhage S h at tereD my
heart & MIND. Threw away UP
over and beyond hope @shameless
@ erased existenz am i — YES.
:: 10-05-2018 ::
THESE terrors squeezing life
the unraveling || greatly suffers
a crying child with tremors and
mobbing monsters walking
with shadows || when your mind
is struck in terror like this
aaagh! Save the angels but
forget me –brave the light of
day where terror shows it’s face
{gripping the throat} is the greatest
horror of all __i am a madman bleeding eyes shut
and acrylic paints the INK the most!
Tyrant! Is fear the most!
:: 09-17-2018 ::
… absolutely maybe if wings flew
without a bird’s body and the air
lifted ground as outer space
filled inner spirits
then all things might be
equal and if so then what?
Zero.
Which is arguably a ‘something’
less than 1 but greater than
less than zero.
Words.
The devil’s insidious plot to
madden the human mind with
intangible monsters that chip
away at the glass floor we
all ignore and rarely look
down upon
we might see the super-
structure of reality then.
What then?
HORROR.
:: 09-21-2018 ::
