A connotation of love
— and to life
sharpens this temporal splendor
of the night
i want to live down eager
streets of lifelessness
wind, wind, wind, the notes
of harmonica asking, ‘did
you once love someone?
as the final feather floating
down a whirl-wind in the final
brain___
as when down eager boulevards
of purple rolled in velvet
beyond doomed thoughts feels
crumbling silence
and seriously smiles
as when i have sometimes thought
of you too.
:: 09.07.2020 ::
IF i shall never hear a note again
what of my vision — a forest calls
but no sound/ i, the failure, of
all that is nature and of words.
so must my mouth SCREAM
but my head hears not [even the
blacksmith striking his anvil]
so i am the deaf poet
that shall never hear my own words\
locked inside a cedar box for all
seasons.
:: 07.24.2020 ::
DREAMING closely i kissed nature
within everything and where it
was: dreaming i dreamt i was
back within myself
within a stain’d-spot
counting all the looks &
remembering all souls’ reflection
(is it all i wish to be?)
i find myself too afraid to
see. Dreaming delusions of
a storm of phantom numbers
where all beings die:
almost 8 billion years after
Earth ceases to exists —
is there any lamp post to see?
are the alley’s shadows all
you wish to be?
many wise hearts speak-spoken
so mysterious and fashionably
sensible you failed —
life breaks my heart.
:: 07.19.2020 ::
MY confession : what be it may
stately said I do adore
hedonistic lore and my passion
borders beyond the day of light
into a fray some may fright
But at the end of any day
a brilliant sun and nymph of light
rules out all it is my sweet
love for life
::01/20/2014::
IF,
my angel, hear my-self (too wonder: why
this profound sorrow?) when i think; secret
thoughts of you as though necessity
never spoke unnecessary thoughts:
demanding the most beautiful gifts from
me
which i may never return if then — in
kind?
:: 07.14.2020 ::
THIS POET WROTE:
while leaves march down an empty alleysuddenly she is barely holding upon the blue skies /of punch red-blue\of a galant southern magnolia sweetand fresh of a sudden burning smellfruit for the fallen souls are we forever together.
far so for father trick of mind/here is a Strange Tale\upon his tomb stone. this POET WROTE
:: 07.13.2020 ::
o f c o l o r fulSOUNDS that died when this novel began as the stars are falling i wonder why have i been waiting so long to be here — where i once said, “where i am going?” All within your sunshine i found the light shining through; the barking trees and dogs crying; this seasonal salad between your thighs /within the sunshineLOVE\ i climbed up to tie all eyes to not feel shame giving angels such surprise –> that i am with you and my editor cried:
” you have been waiting so long;to be where you have been going –within the nectar-sauce of LOVE “
so i finished beating my glyph-heartstaying within you now until the Caesarof LAW has waited this long — to belike-ever your seas could dry upwhere ALL WISH GO;/jk324323423\ within the target of PASSION.
:: 07.13.2020 ::
THE distinguishing Nature of ‘something’
is a character supported by a glyph.
within the mental imagery
of emotions.
We call it ‘words’.
As if we never noticed the rising Sun!
that we never ever felt the sinking
Moon whilst upon a beautiful date
is how one destroys things : place
your tongue upon the palate.
THE sides are for flavor but the top
and bottom taste Life.
:: 07.12.2020 ::
[ideas i used to slay the Western
Alphabet. Next book: to rebuild
from those ashes]
 | EPRobles on OWL MILK AND INDIGO SMOKE |
 | Adam Fisher on OWL MILK AND INDIGO SMOKE |
| EPRobles on ECSTASIES OF THE REPULSIV… |
 | R. Marshall on ECSTASIES OF THE REPULSIV… |
 | Stefan on ECSTASIES OF THE REPULSIV… |
E.P. Robles | Poetry 
You must be logged in to post a comment.