UPON a tombstone somewhere
of a deceased Atheist:
ALL DRESSED UP AND
NO PLACE TO GO
:: 06-18-2015 ::
Tag Archives: #poetry
A TAXMAN IN THE HALL OF ART
I like the smell of art and the walls of museums
taste like the last kiss that broke my heart
discarded hearts inside
the highness of pain
We walk across the color
of the ancient blood
dripping dried souls
so many canvas’ of…ha ha…
and your flesh mixed the thought-wolf hungry
libido of my own art it’s forever until
I have another chance and it hurts, too much
pressure so, like now depressed compressed
breasts and hips and butterfly cups overfilled
by the sun-horror of life
Art. Madness. Words.
Expressive untaxed product
until it’s sold to the world
NEVER! NEVER! OH, NEVER!
FOREVER!!!
:: 06-18-2015 ::
OH ROYAL BLUE!
oh Royal Blue above
all of us, loved
oh golden soil below
that souls kiss
and all of all of you
so preciously a gift
that souls should know!
I sing with silent voice
and feel with shout!
And dance the birth
of life in every moment
this life should give
to me; today tomorrow
yesterday and after
;thoughts of you
my Royal Blue above
my golden soil below
the world is a meal!
the soul a hungry mouth!
the heart a dish to hold
this thing we call life!
::; 06-13-2015 ::
DREAMS OF MY OWN WISHING
THEN like when early mornings
nodding wakefully by sunlight
and youthful slowly days turning
the page of that thick book of life
by when had once, and of their
loved moments of glad grace,
and the song of tender feelings
that by nature sings to hearts
between/below the rays of light
by babbling brook and glowing bars
And swollen tears too pregnant to birth
the breach of wishing, little sadly,
to see the dream fleeing upward
into the misty mountains overhead
I hide my own heart; my own life
the precious dreams of my own wishing!
:: 06-16-2015 ::
SUMMER SMELLS OF DEATH AND REBIRTH
AND ponder the dried once-tender
stems of bountiful beauty
of spreading once-color by
nature’s own heart clinging to a dream
now faded into the soil
Breasts heave and men shudder by utter
extant fear//life with the margin of
once-unstained white
A few deleted unspoken
thoughts;dripping parts of broken dolls
sadly laying to sleep
spanked and put to keep
by shelves of dust
scolded hearts interrupt
: punished prisoners
:: 06-13-2015 ::
THE MONSTER’S ODE
LOVE! ; YES I am parts
but One of Someone’s
own heart; my head
apart from the rest
and thankfully myt
soul exists ELSEWHERE
; doubt say you?
come here
see me here and somewhere
else –> there and there!
my thoughts idle horizontally
worthless self in particularly
essence of what I, We, and ARE
the monster of that mad man!
06-13-2015 ::
THE FISHERMAN IS A MURDER
==a throat >caught in
:::=> hooks and all the night
was a simple violent
lie like a date! Who knows? I have
my bug out bag and I hate evil hearts
“And I love how you said, ‘you’re my
little violent sky’ and I gave him one
dream with a word and prayed he’ll go
away'” : if we get if we get what we want
then everything is like all angry shouting people
of all colors! No imagination of what IS
LOVE? We get what we want
and I cried from the start
how this ends! Go and
tell the spirits how they
should ache and die and
and I hate you bitch!
you take everything!
:: 06-11-2015
ACADEMIC HALLS OF HELL FIRE
WHO hates me? scholars?
sisters? Brothers?
Mother? Father?
I write the words
of my heart and expect no return!
I write the pain and pleasure
and never stop! I was a child
and then I grew up! And now an
adult of dead children — not
me but you!!! And who are you?
With your foundation of preconceived
poetry and I’m so sad to say
a meat puppet of academic
halls and you can tear down the
diploma of your years learning –>
try to make something NEW ON YOUR OWN:
and then I’ll notice Y O U
—->>i PRAISE change AND FEAR
no-thing within institutions
and I’m living FREE –? ARE YOU!?
:: 06-11-2015
ACADEMIC HALLS OF HELL FIRE
WHO hates me? scholars? sisters? Brothers?
Mother? Father? I write the words
of my heart and expect no return!
I write the pain and pleasure and never stop!
I was a child and then I grew up! And now an
ADULT OF DEAD CHILDREN — not
me but you!!! And who are you?
With your foundation of preconceived
poetry and I’m so sad to say! A MEAT puppet of academic
halls and you can tear down the
diploma of your years learning –>
try to make something NEW ON YOUR OWN:
and then I’ll notice Y O U
—->>i PRAISE change AND FEAR
no-thing within institutions
and I’m living FREE –? ARE YOU!?
:: 06-11-2015
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E.P. Robles | Poetry 
A DEAD SEED IN THE SOIL
THE first heart to be loved by its most bitterest
friends has died broken and destitute; a worn
flag flown across all this ruinous Nation
of an Anti-amorous planet and dirty children
throw their mud-crusted hands into the air
and weep for their heroes and whores and addicts
say, ‘Tis the last day of Earth’ \\ Let the shadows
swallow the deepest throats of Hollywood
Let the tendrils of Unforgiven
snake through Wall Street
and Squeeze the puss from
the Wallets of Hungry Warlords
but save the Unicorns and
the Tender Butterfly-Lips
of all the World’s children!
06-13-2015 ::
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