Wet pupil-ed gaze of pink
Petals of a peony stretch 
the refraction of flighted insect: ***** dissolves to salt 
lusting for maternity unrequited. 
Soppy petals, 
liquidly fall.

!COLOR!
B * A * N * G
sssswwiiiirrrrlllllllllllssss

take
     a
       step

INTO ART

j      m      !
   u       P    

into a new WORLD
of OPPORTUNITY

don't stop your  ~D R E A M S~

                                                 yyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy
                                flyyyyyyy
let your paintbrush

onto the canvas
                 and into your
                               <3 HEART 3>


IF YOU BELIEVE THAT YOU CAN
          

               ...then you will...

I've bent my mouth up to my ear
Believing in the stuff belief is made of
Milk replaced by silky biers
Losing my fingers to the Barren Baron Dove

Hurts to admit I'm stealing away
A curly knife held to my ear
Simple, crimpled, waning days
Throw unto the heart of the pier

Lark and tumble
Bark and fumble

Still those tired eyes of dust
I have found the beveled rhythm
Among the pristine clouds of rust,
Entropy's daily rhythm

Wake away the roaring morning
Rising heat in waxing dawn
Spend the many days adorning
The beating pulse of the fawn

Stupefied, nullified
Numb and in crumbs
A stump to the vein
A lump of sweetened pain

You watch the plastic frame meld into itself,
The second hand turning inward
Smoothly running down the walls like fingertips trying to find their hands,
Tapping the pencil against the desk,
Tapping soles onto tiled floors,
Toes rhyming in spite of themselves, waiting.

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

This spread of paper          so cold that
      my tongue-tip    aches-freezing
the    dense flowing words    as ice
    down the ***** by gravity

Katabatic attack
    relentlessly      for weeks
My preception --whiteout;
rain, snow, hail, sleet.
    Precipitation always
measured by soul & pain

:: 12312015 ::