Tag Archives: #words

tiny MOUNTAIN. BIG hill

tiny Mountain. Big hill. f l at lungs

won d e r f u l -~ no thing new ,,,

except age. 16th’s in n o t e s 32nd’s

and 64th’s to die at 128th’s! Ten finger’ed

or 12? my bled heart ||-> soul and broken

fingers … who EATS shattered thoughts

and pieces of tiny angry bumble bees : ghosts

with flesh. Hungarian Rhapsody No. 2 yums.

dessert is Clair de Lune.

:: 04-20-2019 ::


The Silent Machine

OUTSIDE the silence the machine
E A T S my liver
screws my tender insides.
For all the failures wishing
i could not think of living
the beautiful memories
of yesterdays /i’m a failure
of tomorrows\ rolling dead
eyes in a river & thick
rooted hairs screaming |
THE END COMES so easy
watch the sunlight dim
in a moment all dream
time screams by(e)
dear___i knew not of you
but married twice believing
–>take/took my heart
and slung it around the sun.
OUTSIDE the machine
eats you & me. screws
our tender parts.

:: 04-20-2019 ::


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


MY LOVE MY LORD MY LIFE

Oh my love my lord my life
give me a reason to exist!
i may not always understand
you should never doubt it
but my Heart is Strong as
all the stars in these skies
Oh my woman my Reason for Believing
your kiss is a supernovae
i died a thousand reasons
that you should never leave me
reality should believe me
Oh Love never doubt it
i will make you sure about it
of all the world’s flowers
of all the world’s colors
of all my feelings too
oh da da dada da da dada
is my Love my Lord
Love gives me the reason
to kiss the supernovae
of your burning heart!

:: 04-13-2019 ::


sEX101

the Penis inflates
the Vagina contracts
and Poetry bleeds
whites & reds
across the lips
of all HUMANITY!

:: 04-13-2019 ::
eprobles (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 ::


Time Battles

UPON Dali’s lashes the clocks have
melted persistently as Time
battles weak waves of gravity
And then (that some whisper) a
name murmuring midnight we all
stand before the Cosmic God
who has No Name; maybe “Ah.”
As glass cocks turn to stone
the soft touch of skin burns
and then a charming strike
of lightning buries the lips
of ruins /my mother has hips
that born a grown fetus
through the strongest arms
of all forgotten women
And my heart drawn by Picasso
my face by Jesus and my Soul
by Space.
It is here
the engraving plate that
printed all humans /but the
hand of that apprentice
has left us for another
universe.\

:: 03-29-2019 ::


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 ::


MAKING FLOWERS GROW

the mud between my bare toes have spoken: although i search
for someone as me in the world i am severely alone. My spine
sings a song by tonal qualities of pain; the burden of life
is heavy and it has curved my life. ? is its shape. Half
the shape of a voluptuous woman without hair. Her teeth
are enameled beasts with conquering breasts. Evil and Good
have confronted me but my reply: Go! I did not summon you.
Your friendship is not required. Death and Life are pure
concepts of biological construct. Flee. And the deepest
mysteries have been revealed. My brain has locked them away
for that singular moment when my original thought shall split
it’s atom for all to be revealed. Revelation. Like a kiss
within the cold that tears the flesh from my pouted lips.
…it comes soon.

:: 04-03-2019 ::


SWOLLEN SKIES

my life is and will be bitter sweet there on a road
and any road it goes. Waving hello behind me and
many goodbyes before me. When a child my mother rubbed
eggs upon my sick body. The mystery to the universe is
nothing more than ignorance. We are less than children.
And most born so deeply within sleep we never awaken.
Hello. Yes, today was cold and full of tear drops
from a swollen sky. The water broke and the child
was stillborn. It lays within a ditch next to the
homeless squirrel. The dead birds have been dying
mostly near a house close to my heart. My footsteps
are at least two feet from terror and one from
resignation. Humans. We are.

:: 04-03-2019 ::