MY SOUL IS A BROKEN DOWN VALISE

2012-02-09T10:51:00.001-05:00

2012-02-09T10:42:00.001-05:00

2012-02-09T10:41:00.001-05:00

2012-02-02T17:22:00.001-05:00

2012-01-26T18:54:00.000-05:00

“Rob Plath exudes divine madness. He is Quasimodo and the Phantom of the Opera slamming the same keyboard.”– Dan Fante, author of Chump Change, Mooch, Spitting Off Tall Buildings, 86'd & many more...

2012-01-26T17:19:00.001-05:00

THERE'S A FIST DUNKED IN BLOOD BEATING IN MY CHEST BY ROB PLATH (EPIC RITES PRESS 2010)

2012-01-25T19:58:00.001-05:00

A LIMITED AMOUNT OF SIGNED COPIES AVAILABLE. $15.50 + $4 SHIPPING. PAYPAL, CHECKS & CASH ACCEPTED. SEND EMAIL TO RSPLATH@SPEEDYMAIL.ORG IF YOU ARE INTERESTED.

2012-01-21T18:06:00.001-05:00

2012-01-21T13:34:00.003-05:00

2012-01-21T13:34:00.001-05:00

2012-01-18T21:26:00.001-05:00

2012-01-18T21:25:00.001-05:00

2012-01-17T18:07:00.001-05:00

2012-01-17T18:04:00.001-05:00

2012-01-17T17:58:00.001-05:00

2012-01-17T17:57:00.001-05:00

2011-12-17T15:38:00.001-05:00

2011-12-08T10:25:00.001-05:00

2011-12-08T10:24:00.001-05:00

2011-12-08T10:22:00.001-05:00

2011-11-22T13:33:00.001-05:00

2011-11-22T13:32:00.001-05:00

SIGNED POETRY BOOKS FOR SALE

2011-11-22T10:15:00.001-05:00

A BELLYFUL OF ANARCHY (EPIC RITES PRESS 2009) $25 + $4 SHIPPING.

THERE'S A FIST DUNKED IN BLOOD BEATING IN MY CHEST (EPIC RITES 2010) $15.50 + $4 SHIPPING.

PLEASE EMAIL ME HERE: RSPLATH@SPEEDYMAIL.ORG IF YOU ARE INTERESTED IN PURCHASING SIGNED COPIES.

2011-11-17T15:19:00.001-05:00

2011-11-17T15:18:00.005-05:00

2011-11-17T15:18:00.003-05:00

2011-11-17T15:18:00.001-05:00

2011-11-04T16:49:00.001-04:00

2011-10-31T15:01:00.001-04:00

2011-10-28T12:27:00.008-04:00

2011-10-28T12:27:00.003-04:00

2011-10-28T12:27:00.001-04:00

2011-10-27T13:53:00.001-04:00

2011-10-27T00:05:00.001-04:00

2011-10-26T23:57:00.003-04:00

2011-10-26T23:57:00.001-04:00

2011-10-26T23:56:00.001-04:00

2011-10-26T23:55:00.001-04:00

2011-10-26T23:53:00.001-04:00

2011-10-26T23:51:00.001-04:00

2011-10-26T23:48:00.001-04:00

2011-10-26T23:47:00.001-04:00

2011-10-26T23:44:00.001-04:00

2011-10-26T23:41:00.001-04:00

2011-10-26T23:38:00.001-04:00

LOWBROW ART SALE!

2011-09-06T15:12:00.002-04:00

ALL ARTWORK--PHOTOGRAPHY & DRAWINGS--ARE CURRENTLY AVAILABLE FOR PURCHASE. PLEASE CONTACT ME AT: RSPLATH@SPEEDYMAIL.ORG IF YOU ARE INTERESTED...

THANKS,
ROB

"Torch It" Rob Plath. (c). 2011.

2011-09-06T14:35:00.001-04:00

"Now Bomb." Rob Plath. (c) 2011.

2011-09-05T10:24:00.001-04:00

"Too Late Skull." Rob Plath. (c) 2011.

2011-09-04T13:21:00.001-04:00

"Berserk Nerves." Rob Plath. (c) 2011.

2011-09-03T12:37:00.001-04:00

"graffiti under torture." by rob plath. (c) 2011.

2011-09-02T20:42:00.001-04:00

2011-09-02T12:20:00.001-04:00

2011-09-02T11:49:00.001-04:00

"yawning ghost." by rob plath. (c) 2011.

2011-09-02T11:40:00.002-04:00

"surburban panic." by rob plath. (c) 2011.

2011-09-02T11:37:00.001-04:00

"van gogh quote" by rob plath. (c) 2011.

2011-09-02T11:32:00.002-04:00

2011-09-02T11:31:00.001-04:00

2011-08-27T14:37:00.001-04:00

Shoot Mr. Boredom in the Fucking Head

2011-08-27T14:36:00.001-04:00

save all yr yawns
for the grave, please

the first night
in yr coffin
you'll yawn
plenty of times

& forever after...

but you're here
now, bastard

so open yr mouth
& show yr teeth
& scream like
yr spitting
yr tongue out

2011-08-08T10:42:00.001-04:00

2011-08-07T12:46:00.001-04:00

2011-08-07T12:44:00.001-04:00

2011-08-07T12:41:00.001-04:00

2011-08-07T12:34:00.001-04:00

disturbing thoughts #5

2011-08-05T13:02:00.001-04:00

i wanna punch myself in the nose & put a thumb over one nostril & snort blood in the face of Poetry...

i wanna stick my finger down my throat & catch a handful of bile & smear two lines of it beneath my eyes--a soldier dedicated to being CONSCIOUS of yr ORGANS...

i wanna slice off half my face & exposing half the skull run around yelling, NACER PARA MORIR! NACER PARA MORIR!

i wanna take a yard of barbed wire & floss the warden's teeth w/it...

i wanna put a giant blank canvass on the sidewalk beneath a ten-story building & jump off the roof creating HEMORRHAGE ART...

i wanna fill the insides of police crusiers w/lady bugs...

i wanna go to christ's supposed tomb & spray paint DO NOT RESUSCITATE! on the big rock...

i wanna swap the contents of the morgues w/the contents of the maternity wards...

i wanna cut my hands off & burn them & snort the ashes never writing another fucking word again...

"Phoney Baloney" by Rob Plath. (c) 2011.

2011-08-03T15:09:00.001-04:00

2011-08-03T14:53:00.001-04:00

"Human Season" by Rob Plath. (c) 2011.

2011-08-03T14:51:00.008-04:00

2011-08-03T14:51:00.007-04:00

"Target" by Rob Plath. (c) 2011.

2011-08-03T14:50:00.002-04:00

"Fuck You, Death" by Rob Plath. (c) 2011.

2011-08-03T14:49:00.005-04:00

"Fuck Da Humans" by Rob Plath. (c) 2011.

2011-08-03T14:49:00.004-04:00

"Born To Die" by Rob Plath. (c) 2011.

2011-08-03T14:48:00.005-04:00

"Four-Eyed Messiah" byRob Plath. (c) 2011.

2011-08-03T14:48:00.004-04:00

"Green Smoothie Hunchback" by Rob Plath. (c) 2011.

2011-08-01T09:59:00.005-04:00

"Dirty, Shitty Warehouse" by Rob Plath. (c) 2011.

2011-08-01T09:59:00.004-04:00

"Damn Void" by Rob Plath. (c) 2011.

2011-08-01T09:58:00.002-04:00

"The Point" by Rob Plath. (c) 2011.

2011-07-29T09:08:00.003-04:00

2011-07-29T09:07:00.003-04:00

2011-07-29T09:07:00.001-04:00

"Death Dances With The Cholesterol-Free" by Rob Plath. (c) 2011.

2011-07-26T12:36:00.002-04:00

"Nacer Para Morir" by Rob Plath. (c) 2011.

2011-07-26T11:02:00.001-04:00

"Smoking Skull" by Rob Plath. (c) 2011.

2011-07-24T10:33:00.001-04:00

"Just Say No" by Rob Plath . (c) 2011. FOR SALE. rsplath@speedymail.org

2011-07-24T08:14:00.002-04:00

"Fuck Highbrow" by Rob Plath. (c) 2011. FOR SALE . rsplath@speedymail.org

2011-07-24T08:11:00.002-04:00

"Self-Injurious Behavior" by Rob Plath. (c) 2011. FOR SALE. rsplath@speedymail.org

2011-07-23T01:42:00.001-04:00

"Fuck You, Nietzsche" by Rob Plath. (c) 2011. FOR SALE. rsplath@speedymail.org

2011-07-23T01:36:00.001-04:00

"Vertical Man" by Rob Plath. (c) 2011. FOR SALE. rsplath@speedymail.org

2011-07-23T01:33:00.001-04:00

"Lighten Up" by Rob Plath. (c) 2011.

2011-07-23T01:26:00.004-04:00

what's yr anthem, motherfucker?

2011-07-17T10:56:00.001-04:00

if

you

only

had

the

surface

of

a

skull

to

scrawl

yr

anthem

upon,

what

would

it

say?

everything

else

is

fucking

retarded

bullshit...

this hurt

2011-07-17T10:55:00.002-04:00

this
hurt
cannot
be
hijacked

just
the
poem
mimicked
by
the
fucking
posers

the sun, the cunts & the masses

2011-07-11T10:55:00.000-04:00

when i was 7 years old
my father slapped me hard
across the face
w/a fat sunday newspaper
b/c i was rummaging
thru the junk drawer
& interrupted his breakfast

i happened to be looking
for a pencil

he was the first motherfucker
to get in the way of my art

there has been many after
besides The Father:
(not in this particular order)

women
so-called writers
so-called friends
teachers
bullies
bosses
general pricks
general cunts
the masses
this shit existence
the goddamn sun
etc...

& the struggle still exists
full force
& i cover my face
as the arms of the sun, the cunts
& the masses keep swinging
their dumb hooks at me

Death please come scratch my soul

2011-07-10T22:09:00.001-04:00

all the pharmacies
on the planet
cannot cure
this metaphysical itch...

only Death understands
existence is a disease...

she hides in walls

2011-07-10T21:08:00.001-04:00

she claws down a section
of the old, thick paper
& presses her tiny spine against
the cool, splotched surface
of the raw wall
then shields her melancholy shape
w/the two jagged, torn-down fragments
& even tho her fragile, scissored arms are visible
she feels momentarily camouflaged
from a world of unrestored loss

no rivals

2011-07-10T21:07:00.001-04:00

you can talk shit
all you'd like

yr no rivals

you'd have to possess
talent & fucking guts
to be considered my rival

& i see nothing but soulless
hacks to attack

a dozen lines is all
you'll get from me

now get back to yr machines
& weakly try again

sunday morning homesickness

2011-07-10T12:51:00.002-04:00

a terrible sunday morning ache...

the beams through this window
reveal a deep homesickness

the squeak of door hinges one flight up
mocks my no-where-to-turn-ness
even more so

but my tears won't arrive today
so i sit here biting my nails
& sifting through the ashes
as un-whole as one can possibly be...

& i am drawn to everything sad

2011-07-09T09:35:00.002-04:00

even
on
the
brightest
days

there
is
a
rustling
of
tears
in
my
blood

a
sobbing
in
the
vessels

originating
from
a
built-in
sorrow
in
the
marrow

&
nothing
can
bring
on
a
smile

the blood of the flower

2011-07-07T23:35:00.002-04:00

barefoot and in a trance, she makes her way to a field on the side of a highway. curious cars slow down to observe the young girl slowly moving along the shoulder. when she arrives at the center of the field among the flowers and broken-down, trash bags the sun is shining on purple and lavender petals and dark sacks of waste . without hesitation she spreads her shape out on top of the flowers and the garbage. her immaculate hair and tiny feet rest on the black, wrinkled bags and the buttons of her spine press against the faces of wild flowers. they find her body days later. her self-sacrifice startles the sleeping world with a realization: youth and sweetness and the blood of the flower are all sisters to the master chemist called the compost heap...

great poems

2011-07-07T23:34:00.001-04:00

great poems should leave you
w/insomnia
w/ambulance sirens in yr ears
w/yr spleen lumped in yr throat
w/a headstone on yr solar plexus
w/a bouquet of dry sticks in yr hands
w/phantoms in the branches of yr lungs
w/the sensation of the buttons of yr spine
against the cold steel of the morgue drawer

The Boundless YES of the Universe

2011-07-07T13:05:00.002-04:00

There is this thing flashing
beneath all loosening skin
beneath all dwindling meat

There is this thing flashing
beyond the marrow of weary bones

There is this ageless thing flashing
within all fading shapes

There is this inextinguishable strobe
beneath the temporary coat of a body

There is this weightless light
that crushes the limited NO

There is this thing, this thing…

A bright bouquet of deathlessness

we all meet again in its beam…