Tag Archives: #surrealism

OUTDOOR MARKETS

eye-GASMS are artful things
of flesh left out by the
woods / she went were-wolves
once ate meringue pie before
acquiring a human fedora and
impressed all the women at
the outdoor market where
butchers smoke meat and
flay cigars with white whiskered
smiles. Where were the yokes
when sadness crept over the
clouds and a comedian choked
on a badly baked joke. ?

::08042019::
EPRobles c 2019


A BICYCLE OF DELICATE HEART

A bicycle
of delicate heart
focused
in all gossamer, thrills
the minimal slice of time

; keeps my ‘no-one’ mind
thinking i’m here but then
i see i am there too;

Around it, demonic shadows
and scarred knees, bristle
i do for those rumors
humans devise:
i once lived so easy with
my eyes closed
didn’t matter that much to me
oh! bulb’s agitations;
that i never think others
are within my dreams
okay, too tune in when it’s
so fine My bicycle takes
me (me?) though i know when
it’s all a dream this ode
of Life!

:: 05-14-2019 ::
e.p.robles (c)


THEN

then,
after, as though my head a forest
there! A shiver down my spine;
with odor of roots in our nostrils
i am one to wish drowning next to this!
Like the ooze of a pregnant moment
we could kill this monstrosity
of magic! Murmurous you darkness,
sifting down from our head
Hearts are smallest millstones
as if anything really matters //
matters to me \\

:: 05-14-2019 ::


FORTUNE OF A NUMB FACE

eye | someTIMES tear my
eyes OUT — found the last
sheep to COUNT no longer within
my MinD oh!so here we go:
In fall of light and highway,
a Child your hands upon the
wheels — him holding up in his hands
uLtimATE Delirium –\ now, here we go

–stop–

05/14/2019
e.p.robles(c)


TERM-RAGE

this static treatment of hyper light
–>th r us t : all mediums —
theater, cinema, drawing,writing,radio
streaming, on-demand /[dead; how can He
reach me? \]

All of my fits of term-rage are TERMS
in all literal sensibilities of WORD.
all borders of all mental space contain
the Soul bilocalty.

and your lovely and fearful emotions
are exquisitely horrifying.

The true image of Love.

:: 05-10-2019 ::


TO FORGOTTEN NAMES

No need! No deed. Just now the sun has
come to rise (and you are proud?) that her breasts
are spread upon your bed. The spider laughs near
the tightest corner of the room, but shameful you
forgot her name. To those that have offended me
none more than disheveled men who call themselves
gentlemen. Mother! Let us succumb to temptation
that brings us to harm.

:: 05-07-2019 ::


THE LAUGHTER OF SCREAMING DOLLS

the Dolls scream in laughter plastic tears
fall into fiery flames while i pass away
into a false floor beneath my Soul — the
cymbals clash with a grimacing monkey making
noise and the angels’ fingers pinch while
pulling me away from the madhouse of my Mind
— let me go! IF all my Love was a cult
of fake believers within me then sweet dreams
and what i know i face myself so go
erase my existence within your minds; all
you thought of me. All my intention,
brought to service of just cause, against
raging disturbances of insanity.
i love. i breathed. ate.
married. divorced. tried
against all odds to survive.

:: 05-08-2019 ::


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)


ZOE MY ZOE MY ZOE

TIME forgot his pants and trolled
his minute across her face;
Space won the bet with regret
and built a house of dreams
upon a reef with roof balanced
— the territory of a stormy sky
perched with drying fish. My
Pisces in pieces drowned inside
the deeply fractured aquarium
of Aquarius.
Zoe my Zoe my Zoe
so so so suddenly!
Zodiac sign is flickeringly
broken!
Life.

:: 04-27-2019 ::


REGRET RIDES IN UPON A GHOSTLY CARRIAGE

regret rides in upon a ghostly carriage

no, nothing within it’s shell but darkness

which done to me that all is equal

the driver a bald lie of pain with memories

which road i no longer ride.

:: 04-25-2019 ::
e.p.robles (c) 2019