then Wishing is less than
a grip of strong wanting.
then whispering an echo
and feeble moreso
than needing where mountains
shake from determination
and then a breeze as degrees
of desires and needs!
:: 09-08-2017 ::
Tag Archives: #thoughts
Degrees of Desires and Needs
In All Our Dreams
i am when was a good idea
that broken wheel
without a carriage or
passenger whose journey
by most unreal eyes
that can see all 4 seasons
in that glimpse
of forgotten reason;
that begging my sleeping brain
the permanently attentive
mind could never be yours /
so be it \ in all our dreams!
:: 09-08-2017 ::
FORMLESS SOMETHING
Immaterial – formless;
the imbued by Spirit
and body is more!
That patterns determine
rain, snail and flower
and more by zero
but most by Soul!
And innumerable
Infinities that come
and go!
:: 08-17-2017 ::
WORSE THAN ANY DISEASE
|| 2 feet from the mud
on 6 inch heels breathing
difficult words while screaming
it’s all for real
like kissing touching
the weeping burning sun
hugging frail entrails
–while shivering like
bleeding soldiers and
we’re all within a living
hell /together my billion
soul brothers and sisters\
there are some remedies
worse than any disease
my withering hands hold
your face as i offer
an invitation for
memory loss ;
you receive ||
:: 07/30/2017 ::
GOD’S TEETH
THAT we did nothing but unravel
The end of all things
And how surely devoid of feeling
The fleeting thought of finality
Not a tear nor a whimper;
Into the void of inevitability!
And the heart is a given nail
The brain a hammer and thoughts —
The infamous tempest!
:: 07-30-2017 ::
MOUTHS ARE DEEP RIVERS
[Mine] mouths are deep rivers as cold
As the dead that love the living
As alder blight can strike
The love of youth
The unholy woolly wilting
Unlike aching souls for
Golden beasts
When feared
We pray
When comforted
We play
When crushed
We die
In bits & pieces
Like twigs and leaf
That twists and floats
Down a raging river
We go.
:: 07-28-2017 ::
ANACOLUTHON KNIGHTS
i can never tell you how displeased readers
are by that position the singular
moment when nothing makes any fucking sense
to them at all but only to a few brilliant pebbles
that soar across the night canvas unknown
to the dullards of academia
it is the ONLY reason i write; to express
self to those very few who HEAR ME.
the rest are noise and there is no time
for wasting one’s artistry on rigid brains
and stiff necked human-geese.
Then again, my imagination never demands
an audience of understanding but more
of an emotional receptivity.
A slumbering shadowy cloud-vignette
seeping from a tormented mind onto
freshly sliced paper cuts. This is the
color red screaming in a dying ink stroke.
:: 07-21-2017 ::
WELCOME MY GHOSTS
THAT I have tried and succeeded is only in great measure
That you have been there with all my fears and displeasure.
Holding my cramped heart and swollen hands is how you have
Saved both my mind and spirit – the soul; still intact down
By the emptying rivers that lead to unexpected consequences.
And to weep while watching the death of a perfect day and to
Realize that birth was only half that day ago is sobering:
We watch each other’s eyes while laying on our sides and
Breathing in cadence I tell you that I am a fortunate peasant
And you the Queen who has welcomed by Ghosts.
:: 07-12-2017 ::
ORDERED DEGREE OF CHAOS
AND one hand clapping against
the shuttered storm cellar doors is
never a reason to deny ability:
like mushroom clouds as falling
tears splatting fragments of
dusted minds – by parched perched
gills of neon fossils; the signs are
here, there, and within the ? of
a hungry-starved dying youth/
/->the ordered degree of chaos!
By opened minds the wheels turn
as curving fanning windmills churn;
Abrasions of mental collisions
As rough as life and art
(and smooth as death and data)
all atheist and scientist know:
who cares if the tree makes a sound
when it dies AND I say “hello” to
a black void but no reply, ergo:
AVOID.
:: 06-29-2017 ::
TRUE TERROR
The reason we have war among ourselves is because we have no idea
of the true terror that resides next to us all…
and it is nonhuman.
:: 06-25-2017 ::
Recent Comments
EPRobles on OWL MILK AND INDIGO SMOKE Adam Fisher on OWL MILK AND INDIGO SMOKE EPRobles on ECSTASIES OF THE REPULSIV… R. Marshall on ECSTASIES OF THE REPULSIV… Stefan on ECSTASIES OF THE REPULSIV…
E.P. Robles | Poetry 
You must be logged in to post a comment.