we skip across the fence
beyond the WHEN
to Know what we are Doing
forgiving Light a Due
i cannot say this is truth
but suspect that light
whispers to the brain
after all is said & done.
:: 05.04.2020 ::
Tag Archives: #poets
BEYOND THE WHEN
TASTING SPACELESS
TOO TASTE SPACELESS NOW
purple heart hazelnut eyes
a beautiful world
& how they all crawl
upon your skin: a nuclear
field /so i have never had
that much time…, feeling
brain-traffic as you fly
back into space-time; sweet
naughty girl my Emily D.
:: 05.03.2020 ::
Spirit of the Poet
ABANDON all senses to catch the dancing fire
of indescribable emotions trapped deeply within
the Soul of No Mouth —
tell the birthing stars our carbon body is as old
as their grandfathers and grandmothers but our love
and great Tiny minds grapple with
inconceivable thoughts
but mostly of grand words structured tightly around
the Spirit of the Poet!
:: 02.29.2020 ::
THE SINGULARITY OF POETRY
poetry is more than words
it is a stage
it is a canvas
it is the sky
and more
by colliding objects
by smothering silences
by squelching shouts
there is the rhythm
of a post-language
with images
with idea
with signs
eventually born
in eternal force!
:: 05-10-2019 ::
e.p.robles(c)
SO IT WAS AND SO IT IS
Her faith in love was a drowning fisherman
and the blood upon her lips flowing as a muleta.
But her soul as a hearth with brilliant embers
reaching upward forming a dancing vortex.
and the tears, the flowing tears of her eyes shone
brighter than a granted wish of any heart.
“Sing for me my Soul,
that God believe in me!
–hope, that periscope by inkwell
shall show me the land of my own
people that think as me.
That love as me.”
The thunderous voice of Silence
spoke and so it was and so it is!
:: 04-27-2019 ::
e.p.robles (c)
PRIME DELIGHT
IT is midnight; somewhere a storm has
overshadowed a Soul, in others, the storm
is a brilliant reprieve of false peace;
and words pour as molten gold.
A richness of undetermined wealth measured
by Spirit and not human needs.
I have become equal to fear and peace —
this i discovered with my never-closing eyes,
take away this discovery and many others
to share with all fellows. The proof of
existence is a blood-penned period at the
end of a written sigh.
And i write this previous sentence in honor
of Isidore Lucien Ducasse.
To discover your feelings have died and
the skin is a roof for a cemetery! This
pain causes me to pull upon my eyes until
they fall to the ground; and to realize
sympathy is a symphony of sensitive angels
who love us all.
To me; i love you. To everyone else, you
have been my teacher.
:: 04-16-2019 ::
e.p.robles (c) 2019
BY PAIN WITHIN MY SOUL
IT is by pain within my Soul
that i hardly know you
by sight or by taste; i grow
at night by dreams and wishes
within imaginary throe
— i weep for love my love
by love for love all love
and then the rift
within my heart of reality
the closer i come to you
within solitude
practicality always, always
i know — comes knocking upon
the unknown room’s door /
the light so bright
upon all nights as stars above
we love we love we love
the elusive angle of our hearts
and fate that gazes as fields
of jasmine raising dawn and
her brilliant warmth — is love,
the love all love sang by Queens
and Kings and Surfs and Peasants
; are as the angels.
Our Souls, as love!
:: 04-01-2019 ::
POPLAR WITHIN THE FIELDS OF MY HEART
MY heart rests upon a
mote of dust
not forgotten but
still for us frozen
as though love absent
bursting full of sorrow
as though HistoryLand
–i forget my name//
but poplar within
the fields of my Heart.
:: 03-06-2019 ::
E.P. Robles (c) 2019
t HeGreat est won deful my SteR y
t
HeGreat
est
won
derful
my
SterR
y
of
Al
l
is
tru
eLo
ve
:: 03-08-2019 ::
E.P. Robles (c) 2019
BIG ROOMS
A new day. When i buried you.
i found love within me by
the warmest touch Of my heart
i have grown. By the things
over ‘there’ there now.
AND Largest walls hide
hammered nails so lost.
A new shape from the deepest
inkwell || well now ||
we are on our own.
And Poets never grow up
WE GROW BIG ROOMS.
:: 07-10-2018 ::
