THAT HAS never approached the eternal
light of my Heart
as: Nunc rcm unguentorum,
relish the night as
when tears are not enough
the end is closer
toward a new beginning
than the fears recessed toward
that One who Always Lost
but ——> but not us.
:: 07.10.2020 ::
BORN within the C R-A-C-K
of road and gutter fighting Tears like
no other feed me; feed us; save the
fetus [if not for the madness
within the air (BRAIN!)
maiming us_____/\/\
/\___]it’s okay to SCREAM\
the horror of this DAY!
oh rain oh rain oh REIN!
the virus of covered9’s
upSIDE down (listen now)
are three by three – OH!
–>digging within the brain
–no rain!
:: 07.10.2020 ::/
/
/
her mouth is like the
fine bust of all sounds
\life given /now re-
ceived/wander through space
my profound love with a
hidden face.
(could not help it)
i grEW into a GREAT
smallness’t
that walked the dangerous
forest of my carpet
i lost the lie of physicality
while dreaming this dream
of life —
no one truly sleeps
we are always HERE.
:: 07.10.2020 ::
smallnest is now a word
SITTING so little is so… This little
would-be bride in a Kind of cellophane
yellow-red candy dress
like misery reaching
its hand tearing fine
garments of feelings I am becoming
millions of broken shards of
eyes that find me so disgusting
blue windows – pink rooftops
dirt, sunrises,sewage ditches
and the petals of picked dying flowers
upon my refrigerator ~~ (i use to have purpose)
My eyes still blind from prehistoric light
while the screams and moans of assaulting life
rant through Gotham! With no voice!
:: 06-11-2015 ::
rev: 07102020
*** DRAFT ***
,
,
,
*
Hey hey! mighty Asteroid
you have come from so
far away makes my mind
and dizzy head ;
250 million years ago they
walked right where my life
now Stands /makes me wonder
/, it makes me wonder
if i should have another
, another who stands here
one day \\
we dominated this land for
200 thousand years now
then went for a walk with
the dinosaur. hey hey
mighty asteroid you are
picture with no future.
:: 07.10.2020 ::
PONTIUS PILATE
ANCIENT land
old ancient tongue
(mysteries unrevealed)
hate my longevity
hate my Heart
An old man hauling sand
asked me a for a coin
of a Roman figurehead — Pontius Pilate!
your part of the Crucifixion
was marked not only in Human history
but within the Celestial Heavens
the summer cooks grass
and life — history cooked all those
who were too blind! Mad! Mad!
Ancient Land – 2020 now —
crazy hearts crazy Souls
unhinged — too (haaaaaa!) Blind!
Mad! Mad!
:: 07.08.2020 ::
Eyes wish to cry
but they have l e f t
me
alone and unfocused;
are the days of a bleeding soul
are the long days filled with
absolute Horror is my life:
struggling to breath
biting at the fabric of space-time
Life knowing how hard it is to leave
the flesh, blood & bones. Is my life.
My own horror.
:: 07.08.2020 ::
Bam clack-sah-damn
oh Cecilia
my heart is breaking
until you
(Bam clack-sah-damn)
save me so begging you
oh-oh…
make a new type of Art
just for you if only
you come back to my head
& my heart
oh Cecilia
Bam clack-sah-damn!
:07.08.2080 ::
WHILE tears DROP inside
the cavern of m\y heart
perform no miracles
for me, but sun justify
laws to me which, as years
and elders of generations
pass on by —
all soundlessly unfold
within a tall unforgiving house
unfold, was one who arose from
this feast and so went forth —
WANDERING IN DISTANT LANDS
BECAUSE a voice from somewhere far
off in the East (ooh) spot which sought
a great congregation extinguish my eyes
,
i am blind. and children scream, ”
trying to find you…”
where stands the great Church
which memory forget.”
Oh yellow desert stream in within
deep nights i dig for you, O Treasure!
:: 07.07.2020 ::
i am not the mud not the footprint
of ancient man but a shinning lit
point of a forming light
within dripping tears
No, not a monster or sunshine
at dark — so such our mouths
sing, “we know things so wrong”
just like everyone else…
i used a brush upon an ancient
rock to remove the ages of tears
revealing Summer when this
ancient town died : and n0w \
feeling love. Within a moment
we kissed and hugged at home —
then we died.
i am not the mud not the footprint
of ancient man but a shinning lit
point of a forming light
c r y i n g for anything to remember
we were once alive and living
as a people.
:: 07.06.2020 ::
 | EPRobles on OWL MILK AND INDIGO SMOKE |
 | Adam Fisher on OWL MILK AND INDIGO SMOKE |
| EPRobles on ECSTASIES OF THE REPULSIV… |
 | R. Marshall on ECSTASIES OF THE REPULSIV… |
 | Stefan on ECSTASIES OF THE REPULSIV… |
E.P. Robles | Poetry 
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