SOMEDAY is morning someday nights
someway is east someways south
found a lotus inside my mouth
broke the petal ate the sun
found myself inside my head
hey yea.
how i never hated fake smile
but the lies behind the lips
Jesus spoke people listened
then strapped him to a post
lost, disappointed, hesitant
and weak so we’re all freaks
swimming in a muddy pond,
beautiful and strong.
But so weak.
:: 10.31.2021 ::
Sometimes uh
sometimes love
melts inside love
and how love came down
to touch deeply
for many forget safety
Oh weep.
Please don’t kiss me so sweetly dear
oh do not touch or embrace my shadow
cause i’ll make you cry centuries
while flowers sprout these tears
feed dirt inside your soul
_______<+>
Baby oh baby coo’ing
and when you look inside eyes
your hurt is inside tender hands
not my arms — how i cannot understand
as a pure artist i see colors and hear
songs by clouds and weeping winds
— all within my heart: lies the
snake called Robert//hiss\\ i hear
you squeal again lovely one.
No disgrace no ageless stinch only
how we scream again — BABY COO
COME AGAIN and be my friend as sometimes
in my skin i pray how no one knows
; how space and time are just thought
bending memories://|| release come
oh won’t you come: release your dreams.
:: 10.29.2021 ::
SKIP shoe gum eye-dog wait he is as together as
gangster song word-cornflake and stupid dirty
boy; mister police little flea screaming how
blood sits on the corner of circle K stores;
hey yellow Custer-general fish eye’d
naughty girl: sasquatch coat inside an
English garden waiting for the sun
koi fish moping for fresh water inside
this crazy world
I am THE WORDSMITH TEXT-PERT JOKER
SMELLING how pigs squeal for Eiffel Tower
Edgar Allen Poe e.e. cumming days —
Shoop /channel/cost/life\ —- entertaining
devil dragging humanity (naughty people) by
their heart and weak minds. I saw you sitting
in an English garden waiting for me.
I AM THE WORDSMITH TEXT-PERT JOKER SMOKING
JOKER WATCHING you — crying inside surreal
cloud and praising false gods you created.
I AM THE EGG MAN
I AM THE WALRUS
soop…shoop. hah ha ha ha ha (everyone
COME)
shoe gum eye-dog
w-ord-cornflake police little fea.
:: 10.29.2021 ::
Love is more than art
it is The sensation.
A feeling of being,
where even when we
all can cry!
I did it! I stole the light!
That child I am — so [lay] I did for me
and myself cried /numeric Queen:
did you feel the river? I fed it happy tears
and my child-me ran we did! Upon the fields
of our-my dreams and life smelled
like laundry clothed wind-swept dried souls
hopes lopped hypnotized butterflies
_______but i would have never walked upon
the deep dark rivers_____unless in this morning
you held my cold hands: someone saved my life
: i lay low and that child i am – so laid my
head inside (roped and tied) in space-time sweet
freedom butterflies \\\flew away////
into the here and what is now?
:: – ::
I feared a thing untold & unseen
that thing I feared within my mind
a thing too!
Split by half in such unknowns
I strove to know!
Unraveled too which spilled upon the floor!
Imperfect thoughts rolled
from higher ground to low!
Then reality’s curtain fell; my needle tried
to stitch the past when love was good!
But life ran beyond the needle and instead
stitched time within my soul!
LOVE lee one: do not come around here but Always the first time
giving up & waiting (between fern leaf’ing hug)s’ing between the
angle of life and living windows — thy wholly imaginary house
of inviolate darkness_____
x’pecting me except perhaps long
dim hours of sleep | a swarm of interpretations like rocking chairs
and hearing the news we’re all diseased.
Marvelously never knowing idleness brings tears of phosphorus light
into these animal-like gestures. Three puppies in the Kansas small
town drug store window: like the woman i found in a shop window
in the rue Notre-Dame-de-Lorette.
Her tights were rolled in flour ready for the baking of a brick oven-lovely
heart.
Deep divers spelunking pleasures in all wonderous unknowns are the moments of
my youth — to be born in Sorrow, like Sorrow (true) then growing a stem outside
to see truth — GENEROUS SPIRIT APPEARS!
:: 10.29.2021 ::
HOW the rain came down as drops of lit sunshine is why i started to laugh:
since life broke my heart
i found my Soul within a cloud so full of darkness
and thunder-song then i laughed
such deep blues
As though we’d just won a war and the world rejoiced
all inside my head — my skin said, ‘you can leave whenever
you wish’ i decided to stay instead
a heart full of silky scarfs of rainbow colors for us all
summertime out /as if life’s a real thing\
so i cried
as the rain came down as drops of lit sunshine is why i
started my laugh. Butterflies and lonely tears screaming
/reaching for air\ is how rain came down as drops of lit
sunshine is why i started to laugh instead of tears.
but my garden is green and lovely by the touch of my
private heart.
:: 10.24.2021 ::
With heavy BREATHING as (faithfully) her lownecked
throat — something in how her 19th century dress little
topples and expands. Emily Dickinson?
One small foot squared /mired in silk\ wrinkling lost
asking me: how we are here now \ i slowly within
sun-drenched ponderous arms bedecked /time travels —
whose white thick wrist deliver prompoty
to a deep lap of enormous mindless HEART.
How i never believe i now but always in “how”
and how she tells me i need no other lover :
i won’t leave her now/ how i believe her now \
asking me how i believe in her love — i say
“i don’t know oh i don’t know” how?
something in the way she knows. And all i have
to do is think of her — it’s what she shows
me. I believe in “how.”
What I believe in how.
:: 10.24.2021 ::
Light cursed falling lies in a singular box
as evil has many names (but the devil always
has many more). Pink-black lips inside my
mind: little crying lilac laughter splashing
the next steps (oh yea hey ‘who can save the
world?’ someone gonna save the world?)
Hey God, stop fixing that beehive
and drop that devil to the floor — strange
how evolution is less than nature’s greatest
achievement — clocks a tac-tic tac-toc
like ringing time and lilac. . .
the flower dies.
the hope follows.
emptiness ensues.
:: 10262021 ::
 | 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.