Tag Archives: #writing

January 23, 2024

MYSTERIOUS ETYMOLOGIES

By EPRobles

MYSTERIOUS ETYMOLOGIES

and which came first?
syllable or the sound
of pain?
what…did you say?
they ARE the same
whether uttered or
spoken or eventually
written — all the same!

must a glyph truly obtain
a sense of distinction?

it is now its own.

:: 07.14.2020 ::

Notes for the Students:

THIS POEM explores the interconnectedness of language, sound, and emotion. The poet contemplates the origin of words and the relationship between syllables and the expression of pain. The question of which came first, the syllable or the sound of pain, reflects on the primal and innate nature of language as a means of conveying human experience.

The repetition of the phrase “they ARE the same” emphasizes the unity of spoken and written language, suggesting that the essence of expression remains constant across different forms. The poem questions the necessity for a glyph (a written symbol) to have a distinct meaning, implying that language evolves organically and may not always follow rigid rules.

The final lines, “it is now its own,” suggest a sense of independence and self-contained identity for language. This could be interpreted as an acknowledgment of the power of language to shape its own meaning and significance over time.

Overall, the poem invites readers to reflect on the mysterious and evolving nature of language, emphasizing its ability to capture and convey complex emotions and experiences.

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January 23, 2024

Like Flying Within Fog

By EPRobles

He loved to walk the bank,
within gray dawn.

All the lake’s waking
riding on the morning mist.

Suggesting.

All his stories,
a lifetime to collect.

No one else could know.
Surely he was on to
something he could show.

He’d always found,
an ease, a release
drifting within the fog.

A place where ideas
could break free.

:: 01.22.2024 ::

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January 21, 2024

PAUL MCCARTNEY AND BRIAN WILSON

By EPRobles

I asked God and He spoke |

how should you ever:

“Psychosis is a natural response to being unable to solve problems, Casey.”

“How d’ya mean?”

“In childhood we are more creative, that part of our brain that dreams at night has more access to our daytime thinking and we can dream up the most wonderful fantasies, live them in a sort of way. It’s what small children do all the time.”

“Go on.”

“But for the most part we fail to continue using our imaginations, or rather, it gets ‘educated’ out of us. The brain connections between the subconscious and the conscious minds weaken, like when anything is unused.

God only knows what I’d be without you
If you should ever leave me
Though life would still go on believe me
The world could show nothing to me
So what good would living do me — how God knows
I am without you.

:: 01.21.2024 ::

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January 21, 2024

NINO ROTA – romeo and juliet

By EPRobles

In F major’s gentle embrace, a tale unfolds, Beethoven’s gift, a story with grace, it molds. Strings whisper softly, in tender embrace, A symphony of feelings, in a timeless space.

Notes pirouette like a dance on air, Love’s whispers woven with utmost care. Fingers calloused, worn, caress the keys, Revealing a world where heartache flees.

Majestic phrases, a plea sincere, A canvas painted with melodies dear. Orchestral whispers beneath the moon’s soft light, Beethoven’s Romance, a celestial flight.

In F major key, passion takes flight, A serenade of joy, an ode to the night. Eternal echoes in each heartfelt note, Beethoven’s Romance, a melody afloat.

Let this humble boy’s pen convey, The beauty of Beethoven’s masterpiece today. With a heart sincere, and dreams so vast, A song unfolds, from a pen so steadfast.

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January 21, 2024

BROKEN SHARDS OF LOVE

By EPRobles

I look at the sun — in my dreams
i am a TRAVELING gentleman
into the deep sees

: \ ;/

If by some some years you heard
it was clear ooh — ooooh

Oooh — baby bebe bebe ooooh!

I saw your love (heart) i'[m crying

as i am substrate –= love and feeling

oooooh – love | A rose of love and red
leaves no trace — i will return : \
i touch KASMIRE | OH father,
dead. like our wife / my mother \ how
i learned your mistakes _.

\In the realm of the mind’s turmoil, the dance with mental illness,
the eccentricity that whispers of madness, may appear as a spectacle
when observed from afar, yet the mirth fades when experienced within.

Picture your most haunting nightmare, let it linger in your thoughts.
Now, envision a scenario where awakening is elusive, for you are already
ensconced in the wakefulness of the perpetual dream. Those fantastical notions
that weave coherence in the realm of slumber start to intertwine with waking reality.

I sense your curiosity, the yearning to decipher if my journey mirrors such a narrative.
However, my revelation shall remain veiled for now; forgive my reticence, as our acquaintance is but in its nascent stage.

Should apprehension whisper in the recesses of your mind, casting shadows
upon your countenance, there’s a subtle unease that graces your features.

Ah, I comprehend. You ponder whether my quest to “awaken” might incite a descent into madness,
a trepidation that precedes the revelation of truth. Well, let me assure you, for some,
that is the path untrodden, but not for those who find solace in my company. The journey to “awakening” need not be accompanied by the tumult of psychosis. Yet, I am transparent with you – the aftermath of a “nervous breakdown” renders the mind fragile, a state undesirable, I assure you. The labyrinth of thoughts can lead one astray, inflicting years of tumult from which recovery proves elusive. It can sever ties with those cherished, those held dear. I implore you to steer clear of such perils, especially you, with your endearing nature. I find you delightful, and in our journey together, certain guidelines must be etched, for I must discern when your presence graces our shared realm…

:: 01.21.2024 ::

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January 20, 2024

ROSE DIE BACK

By EPRobles

In the stance, a malady of beauty unfolds,
And a government descends amidst weed-laden halls,
Flesh intertwines along the corridors of governance

The maidens partake of the morning feast,
Offering souls to a pale, skeletal simian,
Beneath the Winter sun’s embrace,
Caressing the tree within the dwelling. $$$$

A second debate ensues over such a pact.

The enigmatic artisan, veiled in anonymity and potential hostility,
Scouts with an obligation in his grasp,
A force integral, reliant on the essence ingested from…

The customary process unfolds,
Viruses delineated across the canvas of Time.
Ours to decipher, to comprehend THAT????

Where do HER feet tread?
In the morning light,
The thunderous echoes resonate,
As she peruses the front page” ” ” ”

Stars ablaze in the cosmic expanse,
Yet She delves beyond the lines of stories. . . .

They possess the ability
To seize control,
Viruses &&& they become one.
The Scientists,
Formed in the stance. . .

Traits that ride,
Many in number. . .

Thoroughly equipped,
Navigating the streets,
A few days pass:::

:: 01.19.2024 ::

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January 10, 2024

HEAVEY IS THE INTESTELLAR

By EPRobles

My baby
be okay
and love
and love
give to us
Just give
to US

My love
speak now
every day
is alive
and i drift
off to your world

I am rumbling
i am the love heart
that no one can see!

Im waiting for you.
they don’t know fuckery
and fuckery is dead —
heavy is the heart

Into the deepest Stars
that most do not know |
Heavy is the Astronauts

Exploring the Interstellar
World where we invisited
once before ______ .

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December 29, 2023

LOVELY STAR

By EPRobles

Hey lovely Star who burns bright
Hey, how you move me Hey, how you move me in night and day like winter and summer her flesh is angelic and our love caught in a shade — a tool / a devise of savior and i look up to Christ but my eyes burn me _ Hey, you…the angelic One i found no sex but somber thoughts killing for a position that fits me\ i won’t move shame: A TOOL a devise for savior i tried to look up to the skies but my eyes burn ~ looking fine i cried~ looking fine i cried
knowing I am okay…just fine

lovely star
you move me.

:: 12.29.2023 ::

5 Comments | tags: #love, #poetry, #words, #writing

December 26, 2023

ALL OUR LOVE

By EPRobles

Beneath the boughs so green,
Where love and I recline serene,
And echo a joyous song,
To the bird’s melodious throng,
Approach, approach, approach:

Here shall we find,
No adversarial wind,
Only winter and weather wild.

For those who spurn ambition’s chase,
And cherish the sun’s warm embrace,
Feeding on life’s simple fare,
Content with what is granted there,

Approach, approach, approach:
Here shall we find,
No foes unkind,
Only winter and weather wild.

For those who spurn ambition’s chase,
And cherish the sun’s warm embrace,
Feeding on life’s simple fare,
Content with what is granted there,
Approach, approach, approach:

Here shall we find,
No foes unkind,
Only winter and weather wild.

In this haven of tranquil reprieve,
Where hearts and nature interweave,
A sanctuary free from strife,
Embracing the rhythm of simple life,
Approach, approach, approach:

Here shall we find,
No tumultuous grind,
Only winter and weather wild.

As seasons change with a gentle hand,
Through the cycles, we understand,
The beauty in moments, both calm and reviled,
Embracing the dance of winter and weather wild.”’*

*BEAT, BEATH, BEATH, BAet iA LOVE!

:: 12.25.2023 ::