Tag Archives: #publishers
There’d be no unemployment, no crime, no war for profit; no environmental hell
for thousands of good-hearted lives.
You can’t just take so much paper so putting it off would mean at least ten
not calling till the 11th hour and hoping that you’ll forget what you needed —
i’m in a zoo somewhere between silence and (a)the mad hatter’s court of love
where the loneliness could prove impossible; i’ve been way too loquacious all day
all this time i’ve been riding in this very leather-bound bus how’d i get to this
zoo? maybe too much of this
counting bills counting wheat in the fields
counting my cash on the street
counting time in a silence-devoid world
The natural state of mankind is boredom trying to find the meaning in something so small
i’ve got too many words up in my head!
If you see a stranger carrying an extra pair of sunglasses, don’t steal them. We all
have them. They’re free.
Once in a lifetime, you meet someone who seems to have no fear. They don’t blink. They have
nothing to lose. I used to wish there was someone like that in my life, but all I’ve got
is a little bit of fear.
You can take the boy out of the country, but you can’t take the country out of the boy. What can I say?
Lizard-head heartbroken the love has gone — boo hoo you’re so fine, mama
: first wind it and you want to know if I still love you?
YOU, COME IN HERE, DON’T LEAVE until YOU’VE JOKED AND BEEN WRITTEN!
TIME DRIVER, THE NAMECHE MACHINE la dolce vita what a wonderful disguise
and this has been my argument ever since it’s as true today as it was then, for there’s a new king
who’s clothed in human suffering’s radiance treating it like toothpaste to his face
waiting for us to laugh at the pretend form of our wives and to learn from the conman; he’s played
all his own moves, but he’s still just a kid.
So we all shut up, on a rampage of rants and sarcasm to serve the king’s audacity; nobody wins forever
who’s ever been “the funny” when you wanted to be “the wise”?
we’re here to pick up the pieces, we get the job done, we go home
we’ll never see the boy king’s face until the queen’s hair grows back
(and he gets wise and goes home to his queen and gets “the funny” back) if the boy king turnS on us
we’ll all be dead, so, sing, ride, don’t sweat the consequences of casual cynicism, anything goes;
wear my crown and be the greatest boss of all.
i love you.
:: 01.29.2021 ::
Leave a comment | tags: #authors, #bleeding, #decay, #ink, #paper, #poetry, #publishers, #words, #writers | posted in #abstract, #melancholy, #memories, #menstrual, #mental, #moments, #poems, #poet, #poetess, #poetry, #poets
RESPONDS TO ALL THREATS
within THAT part of humanity
that responds to all threats
we tell ourselves: we shall
bury you ; beneath our tears
i scream toward my little boy
run and hide across all
political fences ::we share all
same biology:: regardless of
ideology / if history was
a President there’d be no such
thing as subscribed views |
my sweet butterflies
my royal golden bees
my children are this world
we share such the same
and wishing God too.
:: 07.16.2020 ::
Leave a comment | tags: #authors, #common sense, #editors, #ideology, #ignorant, #ink, #leaders, #poet, #poets, #political, #president, #prose, #publishers, #science, #toy | posted in #1700s, #1800s, #1900s, #1970, #4:20, #a hundred poems, #abstract, #aching, #adult, #afterlife, #Ages, #all of me, #all we are is all we are, #please, #poems, #poet, #poetess, #poetry, #poets
IF there are too
many Eyes: * *
* wreck yourself
* be an angel
(or stick around, like
balloons and furniture
for a day)
tell the grandchildren
how you defended the State
o f YOUR MIND.
:: 07142020 ::
Leave a comment | tags: #abstract, #books, #fall, #highness, #ink, #paper, #poetry, #prose, #publishers, #thoughts, #words, #writers | posted in #abstract, #life, #love, #poetry, #poets, #words, Life, Love
so how are things —
i sang, ‘how kids know without
the ever-apparent adult noose’
who knows what it means i mean
who really knows how it hangs?
w e could a s k 4
more as nature is not a fruit but
a whore; i strangled myself blue
knowing How my mouth likes to
shoot a bullet through its roof!
–=———–HAHA——–===-
Agent Orange please return to Room
Blue A; we all know what it means
to have met a genteel man named (now
get this) Ay Nal. Hey man! i’ve
got a disease called laughing hyena
(a carnivorous mammals of the family
Hyaenidae of Africa and Asia) yes sir.
my eyes were blue as an ocean then
the tears of sorrow took them away.
:: 06.30.2020 ::
Leave a comment | tags: #difficult, #ink, #paper, #pens, #poetry, #poets, #publishers, #surrealism, #words | posted in #abstract, #poems, #poetry, #sailors, #sands, #sanity, #satire
It’s been some hurting time: I lost it in a dial of fountain garbage youth — catfish mouth hooks and I never saw you sorry inside
Boreas is colored freezer pain! I haven’t had a hand job or pie Since the government gave me opportunity or more chances than churches where Jesus hangs on solemn walls while
flesh bags cry and pray for all their sins in a covered wagon somewhere in the 1950s black and white television. Gee I never knew ancient ones wore makeup and butterfly Lips like a hungry flower in a whore field. The sky gave me her scars like purple vaginas missing periods for months.
And Billy went to the store to pick up a jar of fat pickles. She never reached behind the curtain but I had my dummy and a fist beneath his cheap shirt making all the moves of a failed life.
11-03-2014 ::
Leave a comment | tags: #broken poetry, #dialogue, #poetry, #prose, #publishers, #surrealism, #writers, #writing | posted in #abstract, #broken poetry, #confession, #emotions, #lessons, #life, #lonliness, #memories, #mind, #passion, #poems, #poet, #poetess, #poets, #surrealism, #thoughts, Writing
E.P. Robles | Poetry 