Born of an old age
with much to unlearn
the summers heat,
such cold breeze:
a palace
the walls
A moat that swallows
the glee, screams
and all
And into that ire
upon a flava low
Burning memories go
I know I know now
what youth means;
the long gestation
until we’re born
And be!
THAT we did nothing but unravel
The end of all things
And how surely devoid of feeling
The fleeting thought of finality
Not a tear nor a whimper;
Into the void of inevitability!
And the heart is a given nail
The brain a hammer and thoughts —
The infamous tempest!
:: 07-30-2017 ::
[Mine] mouths are deep rivers as cold
As the dead that love the living
As alder blight can strike
The love of youth
The unholy woolly wilting
Unlike aching souls for
Golden beasts
When feared
We pray
When comforted
We play
When crushed
We die
In bits & pieces
Like twigs and leaf
That twists and floats
Down a raging river
We go.
:: 07-28-2017 ::
I hear they dug up Dali and I’m sure
awaiting in this fact there’s a
hidden joke — but it’s so surreal!
:: 07-22-2017 ::
i can never tell you how displeased readers
The last of a songbird’s notes have fallen into the night’s purse,
and you have known my dances are behind shadows where some of
me has hidden to heal or die.
It seems there are no truths but only dirt and tears and at last
the only remaining mouth that spills songs into hearts
and tender arms is yours my love.
Where we exist there are no stationary objects but a wide orbit
that entertains the unknowable; to feel the butterfly awaken
is an infinite joy stooped upon the vast spirals of our Cathedral.
This love, our love, is universal and eternal.
Forever yours!
:: 07-12-2017 ::
THAT I have tried and succeeded is only in great measure
That you have been there with all my fears and displeasure.
Holding my cramped heart and swollen hands is how you have
Saved both my mind and spirit – the soul; still intact down
By the emptying rivers that lead to unexpected consequences.
And to weep while watching the death of a perfect day and to
Realize that birth was only half that day ago is sobering:
We watch each other’s eyes while laying on our sides and
Breathing in cadence I tell you that I am a fortunate peasant
And you the Queen who has welcomed by Ghosts.
:: 07-12-2017 ::
MOSTLY, as soft breeze summers
dance is when the world spins
for me, it is you that i
marvel; my most passionate
pasttime being with you
AND holding the hands that my
heart craves is like beautiful
flowers that dance in splendid
golden light my love!
:: 07-12-2017 ::
(c) 2017
AND one hand clapping against
the shuttered storm cellar doors is
never a reason to deny ability:
like mushroom clouds as falling
tears splatting fragments of
dusted minds – by parched perched
gills of neon fossils; the signs are
here, there, and within the ? of
a hungry-starved dying youth/
/->the ordered degree of chaos!
By opened minds the wheels turn
as curving fanning windmills churn;
Abrasions of mental collisions
As rough as life and art
(and smooth as death and data)
all atheist and scientist know:
who cares if the tree makes a sound
when it dies AND I say “hello” to
a black void but no reply, ergo:
AVOID.
:: 06-29-2017 ::
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E.P. Robles | Poetry 
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