Tag Archives: #thoughts

A Gentle Slap

today is the day it will rain frogs and dogs and cats. The rest of the world’s creatures are queued for the thunderstorms for next week. Nature works that way; direct paths, no shortcuts and makes her point. \\Umbrellas are used
for both rain and sunshine but boots can never walk life’s path without
getting scratched and worn.

The Hand of God is gently slapping me today
and young and old women wink at the tears
i am producing from laughter___.

:: 02.09.2020 ::


sYNtatic ThouGHTZ

the heart beats for Life
and sometimes Life dies
while the heart remains
beating / all my friends
are fly and my enemies
earwigs \ i spoke in third
person to the second person
who said the first person
died from gossip. two lips
tripping through the tulips
times time tells the truth!

:: 02.07.2020 ::


Solitary Flower

HERE is a silent moment
bathed in calmness
and unfettered within
Light and Comfort!
i do not ask of its
origin and do thank
its presence, Life;
so like a solitary
flower growing from
within the cracks
of the world’s side-
walks.

:: 02.08.2020 ::


ALONG THE SHORTEST ROAD (a treacherous journey)

along the shorest road ever (a treacherous journey) an opening appeared before me;

bright equations bleeding time squished all memory of what i was i am or might be–

A preponderance of suddenly)meets the long Shaman of My Thoughts. i lassoed upon

a moat of dust (cherubs swinging cherubs singing) & road myself)not that way(toward

a whole certain corner )_and touched mySelf searched mySelf…forget mySelf when i

think of who many broken Kewpie dolls cry silently foreverfully and mySelf and

myHeart and mySoul invent grand ideas of an Enormous Language

that touches all hearts.

:: 02.07.08 ::


SOCIAL SCENES

i have r e a ch e d beyond the earliest and now dying starts
over hypnotized whispered secrets within an ear and f i n d ing
mySELF lonely on this planet.

Escaped and hanging within my Darkest Dreams — away from all
social scenes /i saw a butterfly soar away just today; upon
its back carried all my lighest Dreams/tomorrow morning
i will save my life again so save my strength i scatter hope
across these azure skies with hope and love.

:: 02.08.2020 ::


NEW MEMORIES ARE PRECIOUS

HER voice — must have been how
her spoken voice was bland
so savory over lettuce leaf–
how it’s not my time; please
never forget how precious new
memories are.

bad products win again
bad product wins again

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


OUR WORDS STACKED AS SKYSCRAPERS

THE world is committed to insanity;

our words stacked as skyscrapers

allow ants characters to escape
flooding water

as drowned bodies float

past the windows of office space.

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


PRIME DELIGHT

IT is midnight; somewhere a storm has
overshadowed a Soul, in others, the storm
is a brilliant reprieve of false peace;
and words pour as molten gold.

A richness of undetermined wealth measured
by Spirit and not human needs.

I have become equal to fear and peace —
this i discovered with my never-closing eyes,
take away this discovery and many others
to share with all fellows. The proof of
existence is a blood-penned period at the
end of a written sigh.

And i write this previous sentence in honor
of Isidore Lucien Ducasse.

To discover your feelings have died and
the skin is a roof for a cemetery! This
pain causes me to pull upon my eyes until
they fall to the ground; and to realize
sympathy is a symphony of sensitive angels
who love us all.

To me; i love you. To everyone else, you
have been my teacher.

:: 04-16-2019 ::
e.p.robles (c) 2019


/AS WITH NICOLAUS COPERNICUS\

My neck has stretched above the clouds
the Adamic Apple tickling stars —
and my Love is here and there upon
every footstep i have walked.
Life is not just Pain.
Nor just Love.
But fear and Joy
Morbidity and a shade of nudeness
IF the Soul is inclined to explore
God’s backyard. Cowards! Most of us!
To shade your shame within religion
or a sense of higher ground for weak
voices. Shame. Shame upon the lot!
The Sun is brilliant.
and still your mystery!

:: 04-03-2019 ::


TO TOUCH THESE THINGS I GENTLY HOLD

FOUR blankets upon my skin
my feet horizontal off the ground
and still my balls ache like fire
like fire i’ve been away
from love too long /don’t make it a big deal\
Spectrophilia saves me at the end of the day
No sleep no dreams i’m attracted to ghosts
and the many images within all mirrors
and the love of a dead poet named Emily
Dickinson; come to me dear, don’t forget
me — i’m too sensitive And your body
is verse to the space inside the dying
heart of my bruised chest.
And only you could ever could ever
understand — its all within your prose;
to touch these things i gently hold.

:: 03-21-2019 ::