FAKE episiotomy
like the shape
of my heart
Mediolateral art
says the ghost of a baby
enjoys floating within
red and pink balloons
all without affection
my perfect mouth…
Hell how they enjoy
reading screen texts
and lying about soy milk
uh, huh huh
like so deary
being made
media illiterate
:: 12.21.2021 ::
PLEASE GIVE me my pardon
written by God’s own Holy Hand
don’t say no |i’ll leave right now
nothing wrong mental health
if you give me fantasy now
[and]
ALL upon shark clouds
beneath butterfly waves
goes destiny into oblivion
twice upon sunny days
as the sun burns the ground
empires steal stars from
lover’s steely eyes
Into the night goes my thoughts
a broken crib of ancient jewels
peeling paperwall of forgottens
it pains to learn____stepping stone
of beauty called Life.
:: 12.17.2021 ::
i am crying for obsolete words
how they die without fanfare
and without a single statement:
strung together-wordsOfsomepompOus
poetCrying a vacant heart out.
We are the students
We are the vampires
without reflection
or friction = all zero
say prayers inside
dying flies
Share and shame
slay and color
the baby’s room
in clean shades of shame
in all madness
a Kingdom of victims.
Oh, i never let go
Oh, i gave a shit
centuries ago when a good man was
nailed to a wooden cross
so i cry for obsolete words.
:: 11.16.2021 ::
AND if you go — love goes away? No, it’s understood.
My love stays as freedom is a breakfast food
as if love can live with right or wrong (undestood)
or rolly-pollies are from frightful mountains made—
long enough just for you and me.
As though pain can pay the rent
regardless of genius please the talentgang comes
to collect the fallen minds and hearts upon
the sidewalks of understanding. Everywhere.
So as it is; my whole life: as my coalwood eyes
burn wint-air oh waiting (my love) for spring ?(y)(w)ou(w)
un-air-stan?me
crazy
me like
evry-ting
we can do it for just Me and You. So bring it (with love)
for a landing — without misunderstanding — as there is no
end what we can do together without end.
see shebert lips of babies and their beating exploding Love-hearts
: with a little luck we can help it out.
:: 10.24.2021 ::
THE BEST day is one of love
not by flesh nor kiss
but Nature
the best i’ve ever known
and not much to say
so beyond my eyes
so far many scores of years
Today is a great chasm
that anyone could slip into
and threading these skies
with angel wings — my heart
sings
today is today is today is
a greatest moment ever known.
ooh.
today is yesterday’s wishes
and more.
:: 08.31.2021 ::
Why did you leave me naked in this cold wasteland?
You were gone for light years so go away go away
But don’t leave me alone i cannot take this
my body has grown small in singularity
i am a Soul inside time-space
you are like a molecule and i a leaf
i have spread my fragrance through every apple and every bloom
We were in love with Paris
We were in love with Bluebeard
We are so close but dilated by light
And now We are dead in form
We were in love with the moonlight
we were in love with the salty sea
you know how some things stay with us
but not all things
i am a Soul caught in space-time ah!
we were in love with the sun and the moon
i was in love with You but it wasn’t enough
We were in love with the green ground
We were in love with the blue seas
We were in love with the black side
of night
we were so close but now dead
we are dead.
We were in love with every spice
i am in love with You
but it isn’t enough
We are dead
we are dead
we were in love with every flower
life in love with You
but it wasn’t enough
i am in love with every scent
i am in love with you
but it isn’t enough
in love with every sound
in love with every smoke
but caught in a terrible space-time web
of life and thoughts fighting myself away.
:: 05.26.2021 ::
I have bound myself to God and to the Mysteries; all things also I comprehend.
AS love is not given to the wise man for his own personal gain. Love is neither given to the savage for his own personal gain, nor to the poor man for his own personal gain, nor to the country for his own personal gain, nor to the lonely man for his own personal gain.
NO.
It is given to the sick, in pain and those deep within despair and loneliness, for their own personal gain is not a thought given.
As Love is not given to the prostitute for her own personal gain; to the youth for their own personal gain; for the Love is the product of long awaited joy, and the joys and sorrows of the individual cannot be their own!
:: 05.19.2021 ::
AND what is a friendship without warm feelings and devotion?
As those who go to and fro from bed to work without
a gentle smile or hello!
I would share a drink with you but first i must be sure
the label is not high alcohol but a label that reads either:
“life,” or “death.”
As the sun dips behind Mother Earth we eat and clean ourselves
then ready for bed. We read, watch something on the magic box
called television or stare at the walls. Some dream, some smoke,
some drink, some fight. Who is mad? All of us! Call it what you like
but the moral of that is — ‘Oh, ’tis love, ’tis love, that makes
the world goes round!’
Our human intentions only make matters worse!
Then the turtle spoke: “Those lovers we read about: to all the characters
drawing in colourful lines… you keep emotions at an anchor deep inside so
you can move far above the bubbles’ tricks — but the people swimming in
fish-glasses are freaked out. So many lives spilled, even all living simple
souls, cannot sustain the waters of love.
:: 04.22.2021 ::
so now
That the Iris opens her eyes upon early morning sun
that the wind dances her showy flowers and is luck
the lost voice of forgotten lovers?
some Not
when wind forgets its dance and green devours
(feelings) by nature’s beauty shall the fisherMen
of hearts sail from continent to unknown places;
their gravely instilled by amorous desire.
some NullAS not would never go there.
:: 01.21.2021 ::
i wish I had more time and opportunity to explain my disgust to your rust-stained sarcophagus. To offer a calm palate of meditative colors for our feelings (why not) — you seemed so surprised to be called from a glass prison.
Oh, blessed crystal, what do I have to do to kiss your hand with a succulent kiss for you have forgotten the grain of truth to your rust-stained sarcophagus!
To offer a calm palate of meditative colors for our feelings (why not) — you seemed so surprised to be called from a glass prison.
Oh, blessed crystal, what do I have to do to kiss your hand with a succulent kiss for you have forgotten the grain of truth and your heart could only love the person who feeds it for nourishment — is a difficult task; so you resorted to Cupid’s slingshot!
But here’s an alternative: follow my heart down the garden path, until my sticky feet block the entrance of Cupid’s grave.
Here — get me the jar of colorful paint and I will show you the
sparkle of love.
Here — get me the fork and I will show you the flavor of our love
that came from one man.
Here — get me the ball and I will smash it across my canvas of life.
Here — get me the pencil and I will draw you a gentle, tender picture.
Here — get me the jar of colorful paint and I will show you the
sparkle of love.
Here — get me the fork and I will show you the flavor of our love
that came from one man.
Here — get me the ball and I will smash it across my canvas of life.
Here — get me the pencil and I will draw you a gentle, tender picture.
Here — get me the paint bucket and I will lay it on a canvas of life
It was exactly 14 days since you told me you left the store early.
14 dreary days and I do not think you’ve been here once (not that I
would blame you for believing it).
14 days since I was mean to you, and then you said you’d be back
by 14.
:: 12.24.2020 ::
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E.P. Robles | Poetry 
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