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EP Robles Nov 2018
THAT today in my heart
the breath of life
but my way is mingled
within confusion

Pain obscures light.

Remembrance of Love
moistens my feelings
within the Soul's
fountain.

Each cloud flies high
and stars trembling,
A Spirit too if so be
it.

Love can never die.

And lessons from Mountains
and Rivers and Forests
They wear the Rainbow,
a solid unbroken promise

So too my Life
So too my Love
So too my Soul.

:: 11-02-2018 ::
Love is eternal.  The Soul and Spirit.
EP Robles Oct 2018
I COULD YOU CAN


i could be your butterfly
with a kiss
i could be your never-die
and you'd miss
i could say hello my dear
and you'd smile
i could be all or nothing
but i'd miss

all of me
all of you
all of me

You can keep the diamond rock
and the bill
you can sing a song of love
so i'll heal
you can kick me to the curb
with the trash
you can call me from the dead
with my head in hands

i could you can
i could you said
i could we did

:: 10-27-2018 ::
EP Robles Oct 2018
WHETHER morticians wear
the makeup of cadavers
or madness is the friendliest
voice makes no difference
you are sick
to believe loud colors
have no mouth
and the trunks of people
grow deeply rooted roads
that have many toll booths
the rich pay for free things
and the poor steal dreams
those dead envy the living
and those alive
feel so dead.


:: 10-27-2018 ::
EP Robles Oct 2018
No longer a thought
within my brain,
the mortician lay me
down to sleep

a scream i refrained
surfaced as white
within my eyes
that none had bought

my vitals he checked
and thumped my nose
as a creep
then:

a bath and massage
no dance but song
two strong hands
then set my face

arterial embalming
then drain/eject
it's all the same
the cavity --
aspirate and concentrate

The humming thrumming
burning desire
escaped as soon as with
a pop I fled my skin
and faced the choice
to do it once again.

:: 10-23-2018 ::
It's October so why not write a poem about the mortician's work?  Wrap it up in the concept of reincarnation.
EP Robles Oct 2018
TODAY is the day
I died after the clouds broke
their water and still-birthed
the evening.

I am standing outside
by the edge of a mysterious
forest and the wolves are
sniffing the air but cannot
find me.

I am a ghost.  And my house
is the tomb I was born within
but no longer contains me.

There is an empty space
within my heart's shape
that no artist can draw:
all words too broken
for any poet to express
my emotions.

I was birthed on the day
the beautiful angels were
sick and have now died
as God is sick and the world
a breath away from me.

::: 10-23-2018 ::
Life and transitions
EP Robles Oct 2018
GreatNothing
MY
      LOVER! my step
/broken\
                |
              |
Falling-feeling
near you
furnace Soul ...
i [just me] dirt,dear
and died a wish wishing
to touch but purity
denied my ***** Hands/Heart
i [me] am no thing AND
bow to The GreatNothing
that eats me i should
~can [did]die
a fumbling mumbling
ember-Wish
THAT "I love you!"

:: 08-06-2014 ::
Rev: 02-01-2017 ::
EP Robles Oct 2018
tell me not why hate grows or
how angels fell from grace
   then(if shadows stood
between light & air)
   maybe express the miracle
of Love instead

all mouths should have feet
in place of teeth
   to walk away from confusion
by the foot

tell the blue jay all lonely Souls
meet the moon next to their pillows
And that a poet's heart will float
upon a stormy sea
but sink at sunrise
from a full heart
of joy.

:: 10-20-2018 ::
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