Tag Archives: #realization


AND when the world has fallen upon the cavity
of your sunken chest go out into the day,
feel the sunlight and how it’s warmth has
become lit sheets of icy fingers upon your soul,
and know the bright yellow bulb in the sky
is a world of fire and ice.

And when your soul has slender-ed, into a pencil
without its lead and your mouth is no longer
able to spell or speak nor write, then the world
is an unspoken ill without its Scribe;  some
say He has died or was never born and others,
that he died nailed upon two pencils upon a hill.

And when you have grasped this meaning and you will,
then allow the world to fall through you,
and all the kisses, wishes, and well-spent days
of your life…

:: 01-22-2015 ::


(c) E.P. Robles 2013


thinking with my organic something is unappeal
how to enjoy the meal life gives bland stove-top petrify indoctrination gadget
infused miniaturization of ghastly do-little meat puppets chatting nonsense
when weather is fair.

regardless of my attire my organic something always dresses in emperors
clothing and secret eyes admire from afar the fine tailoring of that 3.5 pound
of mystery meat whose function I could care less about unless it’s under a
scalpel in bright lit operatic stage

i am the audience and the play and refusal to say my preordained lines is an
orgasmic neurotic sensation that mostly only a God can know — save me

Please…save me, okay?

and when that musty wind glass shatter beneath carpet-burned boney knee I am
very pleased as the pain is affirmation that my knee still alive but the rest
of the husk of a carbon-based brilliant animal is walking dead beneath sodium
vapor light abandoned roads leading nowhere but that spot you sleep and wake
and dream and shit and eat and copulate upon.

that spot…dirty isn’t it?

my refusal to admit or decree a sacred source
but flowers toil and the soil is moist
a perfect spot for this organic something

a depth of six feet south

:: 02-08-2014 ::


RIGOR MORTIS spreads upon the dead
complacency surely does the same
apart crimes of displaced compassion
together conspiracy to commit the dead
So the fire embraces imaginary lines
of transgressions never bought or said
Someone pay the price in giving flesh
and losing the part of living best
God I give you my eternal soul
forgive me my weakness in believing
let the sun shine upon my living spirit



THERE is no shock like that of waking up
within one’s possessed skin to fully realize
we are only visitors and not from the-here
I talk not of an academic approach
which requires only a mind-thought
but the unequivocal knowing and feeling
that we have possessed the animal-human
parading as less than what we are
and some succumb to their skin-suits
and have shed their light-hearts
and run amok in primal urge and
have the doer-evil deeds of darkness

Truly there is duality
in our current experience
— and a very fine line
between madness and sanity

[There is more…
that can be said…]


Tragedy — a misplaced arrow
  should never pierce the heart
but follow the path of the do’er
  lest decent souls perish