EVERYTHING are words
now They are
sound. Their color sings
Opera and Rock and Jazz
and scripts of celluloid
movies all
Mixed within my mind
I 8 desperation
defated in this flesh
I Am
wondrously here//-all
of my heart spilling poetry
:: 09-09-2015 ::
Tag Archives: #poets
EVERYTHING ARE WORDS
ODE TO CREATIVE SOULS
if i were to kiss a mozart
how would i know genuis
from such lips
if i were to hug a picasso
how would i feel art
from such an embrace
i should look into
such eyes and see a score
and a canvas of beautiful
color chasing daffodils
across the snowy inner land
of my own soul
and if i try to understand
what they wish to say
to me perhaps i should
never know how leaping notes
and flaming flowers of blazing
light met me on wet dewed
morning days when i was ragged
And maybe i understand since
i’m one too with reflecting eyes
weathered faces lined in pain
and so now i understand how
all of you gave the world
all your spirit to grow
so we all suffer for our own
insanity and who ever listens
— perhaps none ever will.
:: 07-30-2015 ::
LIFE SAYS DIRTY WAYS
WORDS say I’m shapeless
emotions express mist
heart compressed
life does the rest
a tool for a fool
a hammer for the
wordsmith
and low and high
and hello so low
i fell inside you
if a lifetime spent
so stupid means
i am the entertainer
yo! Me.
I kissed a baby beluga
in shark-infested water
oh god! oh no, oh hell
oh no, oh well it goes
when we love we die —
every moment we breath:
i’m so brittle-belief
down like the towers
love can be sacrificial
when two don’t see?
and i’m so wasted in
oozy-gluey sticky nature
i think i’m so done
life says “dirty ways”
:: 07-21-2015 ::
THE CYCLE OF LIFE’S COLORS
ablaze beached-brash dusty flamboyant
fluorescent gaily heart in life by harmonious expectation…
of rejection?!
so harshly my lover; iridescently
in your ways
and at times when the blue jay
hesitates in song — monotone
and muted in love; is when the feeling of
joy turns pastel begging
restrain as the last moments
i have remembered in sepia
as photographs so old they are
red-brown colored;
to have known love so translucent
and vivid — a shade violent!
just too painful to recall
and now all white a washed in
what-WAS and isNOW
:: 07-21-2015 ::
A POET FIRST AND FOREMOST
WHEN mountains move
and sun dances
and rivers sing —
a melancholic
elegance my dreamy
charm;
the female sensitivity
that feather brush
upon my heart as
an angel’s wing!
your genius is within
your heart!
:: 07-21-2015 ::
THE WAVES ARE MISTY CLAPPING
The waves are misty clapping
seas, lovvv–i—,ng some——
thing inside a roar |beating heart/
| Gogh once painted it
but decided on fields with
flowers and twirl-swirling
stars
enough to make me cry
:: 07-19-2015 ::
OCEANIC ODE
IS then, that love
by gorgeous heart
begin when furnace
burns as stars
if then, that smile
by largest mouth
turns the tide of
all seaside towns
(their homes lit
to reflect light
upon the undulating
wishes of some Soul)
waves! Sound is salty
within my mouth dear;
but a tongue speaks
fresh-watered kisses
and jelly-fish are
hard upon the shores
speaking of how they
once danced in liquid
–love? Yes my dear
yours are soft and
still swimming upon
this embrace between
beating hearts! The
ocean sings tonight!
:: 07-18-2015 ::
I WILL MAKE ME HURT
i removed myself today from focused pain
(a thing that’s so real) and heavy days
are over so i believe(d) with pale tender
white feet walking over a road
strewed with shards of reflecting memories
like my empire of thoughts
:all dirt leaving me alone
in a soul of colored pride
beneath the stains of time
and eating — like someone
who goes all like everyone
i’ve ever known, goes away –>
beating sound within my
chambered chest full of
earth’s old timid grace!
you wished to make me whole
And your tears past before
a splashy muddy mouth in
the river of my own life
:whatever i’ve become is
exulting,gentle love
in the end…
:: 07-18-2015 ::
OLD FAMILIAR WAYS
i cut myself today
upon the thought of
when it is darkest(and
i look up in fear
who sees the reaper,
in drag: it comes to
all of us disguised)
like old familiar ways
so thin like the moon
on waxing days
and the world beats
some say in your head
of course we’ve lived
with how we cling to
our minds always
sharpest when comes fear
until i feel the familiar
sting that remembers everything
the purple flower’s largest
final air
is what we become my dearest
friend internal eternal
plunging everywhere untold
times
of enormous lost dreams
:: 07-18-2015 ::
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E.P. Robles | Poetry 
IF AN ANT I COULD CRAWL
if an ant
i could crawl away
unseen
if the boss walks
he sees
and crushes me
under the heel
and i hate authority
–if we could get along
we push the walking boss
out the window
and i love you
and i get lost
in all corporate law
i say burn the paper
and rewrite it in love
and i lov eyou!
so get it on with
that smile 😉
no need for a walking
boss //insect swarm!
attacking smaller animals
and bosses are MICROPENIS’
PSEUDO males looking for
approval–saddest greek
tragedy AND FUCK YOU!
AND WOMEN in authority?
well, that’s another poem!
:: 07-23-2015 ::
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