Sometimes when i'm dead
the flowers smell better
And many times time
just drips on by
within my empty head

The light bulb sun
is burned out within
my room (oh dear)
and the cockroach
tells me not to fear

Jesus breaks his knee
on a viral meme
Politicians parody
the struggling life
of you and me

Holding on tight
to the horror sled
of this holiday
season of no reason
neurotic sales
schizoid crowds
smiling fiends
and the flowers
smell better
sometimes when
i'm just dead.

:: 12-10-2018 ::

PREDAWN:  my thoughts have chased
the moon away
like a wind caressing hair
and fingers lit by rising embers
of morning light.

My hand a river tremble-eddies
pour passion passing pink peaks
melting snow brings Spring
across a valley lush below.

Life.

An Olive Warbler brings the
song of Love as a sigh!

:: 12-24-2018 ::

My heart has asked of me, by the stream
it asked of me:

(What feelings are if anything, truth.)

Do the trees sing their songs
  when the wind blows?

The spider web sways but maintains.

When your legs are moving along life's
twisting paths, do I (your heart)
speak softly to you?

The witness are the clouds above you.

As the tears come who sees your
shadow hide behind the rocks?

The falcon's call of nothingness,
that spins your mystery.

And sunrise is a wondrous gift
and sunset but a promise.

:: 11-25-2018 ::

Tiny Tim with droopy eye went out
with corpse-woman (she’d heard
he’d died)

Had a cigarette between two finger’d
bones called life and when living
ladies heard he’d died the world
began its wailing from the other side.

LAPD roped off the scene but the
ribbons were too low for ghosts and
all his demons.  Detective Mister
found his ****** revolver and no cell
block too secured assured for dead
men so police officer said, “Tiny Tim
was too beautiful but he died today;
the judge had verdict match the
coroner;  misadventure in love case
closed casket so move along move
along my fiends.

:: 03212016 ::
Copyright © Ernest Robles

PET this pretty kitty,monster
oh, WET is progress-pink disease
of love,my victims(like when i break
your heart i won’t deny it all
so we suffer the Bigness of your
LITTLEST pelvic region
so unwish a world of pity flesh
and my need for guidance is so much
like-more the world born–pity my
poor flesh(i “hyper-magical beauty”)kitty
so WET and in need of a good petting hand
and two eyes upon
my ever unwished words(never save me
from these evil deeds of desire)ugh,
ultra-omnipotence makes me hot and with
a hell to pay the angels say,”what the
devil needs to know I always seem
to suffer myself;”
so pet this pretty kitty,monster
yeah, a wet progress-pink disease o’love

:: 09-01-2015 ::
Copyright © Ernest Robles

AND if the lost made their return
from soil to land and within
your life
would you -- could you -- accept
them back
From death to dust and an urn?

Surely first the shock and disbelief
maybe a hug if you dared -- could you?
And all the adjustments you made --
evaporate!

The new lover, what say to them --
who replaced the gaping hole
within your heart?
A new baby but not from him --
what then?

the possibilities of a Return, some sweet
but mostly a hidden poison -- you think
secretly.
But in the end (their end) sprang
a new possibility!

You live your life as best you can.
Especially when a lost is much to bear
and you pray -- leave the lost
within the ground

...sweet love sleep sweetly unto the Light!

:: 01132016 ::
Copyright © Ernest Robles

WHEN light comes
through these eyes
and falls upon
a swollen heart
a burning fresco
of something
sweeter than honey
the fluoroscope
of gentle love
and does yes
it come, gazing with me
upon this petal
of hope in morning
breath!

:: 12242015 ::