MANY times, more than twice
I have seen,
the ghosts of family, friends,
and then some whose faces
that I did not know…
Quaintly, with ethereal elegance
they are silky touch, feather
breath, and opal eye
outside of the tick-tock
of father-time
It is most inappropriate to ask
of them, to state their business
or intended pleasure
Extend your politeness over scorn,
I say!
:: 09-19-2013 ::
you have a
wonderful
smile…
atomic…
the light of a sunset
before it explodes
across the horizon
:: 09-19-2014 ::
To thee I say,
what is the most
beautiful poem
That kindles your
heart so brightly
For mine heart surely knows
what brings the morning light
and the sing-song of birds
Before me, I clearly see
such prose —
Your heart, face and soul
is thoust most beautiful poem!
:: 09-19-2014 ::
And in my disgrace
i hid my face
inside the skin
of the snake
and asked him
to hide my sins
within his shadow
He hissed and said
“cold and damp,
is my life,
and times are gone
for all true men
to hide inside
the heart of God”
So disguise is gone
and my face is sun
the summer stench
and i climb the stairs
hearing you scream again
Mother’s dead and father
He is arisen in heaven
I’m too cold and damp
so my weathered friend
I go again into the Scream
of deepest fears again
And still the warm winds
of my long dead friends
sing to me once again,
“Judas died for all
the thievery of our souls,
oh, and deep cold suns
and all the living.”
And in my disgrace
i hid my face
inside the skin
of the snake
and asked him
to hide my sins
within his shadow
:: 09-19-2014 ::
DOCTOR#1: this is the worst case I have ever seen.
DOCTOR#2: Ye,s he’s fractured within his mind.
DOCTOR#1: it must be extremely difficult being the Supreme Being.
DOCTOR#2: Of course it is! Look how many personalities he possesses!
DOCTOR#1: Yes, a severe case of multiple personality disorder.
BOTH DOCTORS: OVER 7 BILLION personalities…GOD HELP US!
:: 09-19-2014 ::
this is my heart.
i read your text and ask,
how was your day, today?
was it wonderful, like me?
and you say,
“I’m on the road.”
…?
[I’m inside myself]
it’s hard to breath
and become insecure
from all the pain
I’m ashamed.
people i see. everywhere
them — can they see me?
and for a moment i get sick
— i get desperate.
i get insecure from all
the pain
i’m so ashamed.
then after a moment
sweet time loves me
i get used to loneliness
and i feel fed from all
the emptiness life tries
so hard to teach me
:: 09-19-2014 ::
When Gnomes
sneeze the soil
beneath their
feet turn to gold
:: 09-03-2014 ::
Silly how-is many times late
before the pun chaotically tickles
the slow molasses of subhuman
thought creatively. And I cry every
time my mouth laughs Those
brilliant giggle-fairy iridescent cellophane
wings // flutterHeart my tired soul on
quiet thunderThought nights.
And the crickets play their
magnificent song
between the underneath
of my longing moonlit eyes!
:: 09-02-2024 ::
The little poor boy lost a tooth
and awoke the next light of day
and found a shiny coin of rich
beneath his tattered pillow.
“Mother! Look what I have found!”
“Yes, all is very well, I see the tooth fairy
has visited you of last night!” She smiled at her thin and gaunt little son. A pain cut her beneath her breastbone. She sighed.
“I shall eat a lunch today at school now mother!” And off he went for the day and happier than he had been for quite some time. The evening came and the house was calm and all had retired for the morrow. The sun rose and horror crept over the hills and seeped beneath the door of the tiny dilapidated shack.
“Mother!!! Mother!!! Where is my money! I should have 4 dollars, 25 cents beneath my pillow! ” The boy’s mother ran into the room and saw her poor little boy toothless with crimson hope caked across his pouty lips.
:: 09-02-2014 ::
In a great-small thing of no size but larger than zero I placed a bag of velvet life roughly the length of a rocky-road mile and away it dissolved into the infinitely smallness of my LifeBag and I shed a ghostly tear — the ones that never jump from the wornEyes of dying cultures but those dried eyeballs found on summer-baked roads for hungry vultures. I said, “farewell my dreams and fears and may your journey into oblivion be as pleasant as your stay within my soul.”
:: 09-02-2014 ::
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E.P. Robles | Poetry 
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