"hastiness" poems
So,
there we were under december lights and burnt out matchsticks,
looking like we've fallen in love tonight.
It was all eyelashes and hastiness drawn out.
You braided secrets & warm murmurs into my hair;
then a smirk into my left shoulder blade.
Your lips tasted like something,
someone
I wanted more of.
Dec 25, 2015
Dec 25, 2015 at 7:40 AM UTC
And again for the card game,
His throw kings in the fold,
Empires had forgotten them in the hastiness,
To find the familiar melody - that was lost, but always sounds in my dreams.
And jazz is playing and tired pianist whispers something to His fingers,
And guitarist with a shy smile governs the right tone,
And music shades compose the mellifluous long dream,
Where own orchestra in the world of his dreams has been shipped.
Again I am looking for the melody that plagued in His sleep,
Yeah know not destined to hear that melody in the other sounds in reality,
That the lost harmony, that still sounds in me,
And the sheet music signs the pianist reads in the delirium.
Aug 21, 2015
Aug 21, 2015 at 9:12 AM UTC
"That's it! I'll take it to the scissors myself!"
Mangled, wrangled, tangled mess,
meandering tendrils coil and cross, clump.
Split ends,
knots so impossibly tied the eagle scout is left bewildered,
sun damage: fried, frizzled, frazzled, frayed.
Broken teeth in a gasping comb,
choking brushes enveloped in the furling mess,
hairspray, fruitless, face it:
(Another) Bad Hair Day.
"That's it! Today's the day!"
The call is made, the appointment scheduled,
you sit and wait.
X's mark the calendar, the day is nigh,
your do's judgement day is at hand.
It's time to settle this.
The day before, you wake up,
absentmindedly getting dressed, drudging through routine,
mirror's the last thing you see.
Crusty eyes suddenly open wide,
as split ends seal and knots unfurl,
sun damage heals and combs sing ceaselessly.
The day is met with a new life,
and the dark days of yore seem like a past life,
as this sunny day seems like all there is.
You laugh at what now appears to be such trivialities,
"Twas a bad hair day! And merely so!"
You allow yourself such a shallow deception.
Your hand grabs the phone, your fingers make the call,
your voice makes the cancellation--
"How could I have been so foolish to resort to such measures?!"
You hang up and scoff at yourself,
a hearty laugh in jest at such hastiness,
tossing and swishing your luscious mane to and fro.
You allow it to slip through your fingers,
on the cusp of the cure,
as the bad hair days truly outnumber the good (you know it to be so).
For the next day will come--
You'll greet the mirror with that heart-wrenching sigh,
in visible anguish at the chaotic mess that encroaches upon your head.
Don't let a good hair day fool you;
make the call.
Jun 2, 2016
Jun 2, 2016 at 12:13 AM UTC
I walked straight through your heart,
Metaphorically.
Stormy, windy, dark nights,
With shattered street lights,
Void of any form of light.
Your heart suffers an undesirable life.
Stroms embody distress and frailty.
Winds embody hastiness.
Dark nights embody sinister actions.
With no hope present, a more profound image is painted.
When I walked through your metaphorical heart
I felt the suffering.
Shivers and goosebumps displayed my uneasyness,
Yet you live a life exactly like this.
The most metaphorical experience was my most life-like, metaphorical experience.
Place your heart next to that of a queen's and nothing sets it apart as being different,
But upon closer examination - listening and communicating - a whole lot of darkness is felt and seen.
Inner darkness is better than an assumed inner brightness, based on the exterior condition.
Authenticity in physical condition is important.
Oct 3, 2018
Oct 3, 2018 at 2:58 PM UTC
I felt like I cried too much just then, with my head in your lap and my cheeks stinging with salty tears.
I want to die today, but I can't bring you with me.
I can't bring you with me in the bleak narrow curvings of my soul absent doubt.
I hate hating myself so much.
When I look in the mirror I judge from predisposed and painted self doubt.
I trim my frame with unrealistic absurdities that make matters worse by setting them self up for failure to begin with.
I do not think one should continue to prevent them self from cutting off their own airflow to preserve another being's feelings.
Though the act of suicide is selfish, and abstaining from the act to keep others from blaming themselves is in fact selfless; however perpetual self loathing is almost as demanding a lifetime of guilt that comes out of wishing you could have done something to help.
I sit on the inside looking out. And more of the time I am perched in there, I am looking around, from within.
Disolving the interior and remembering the good old walls.
What happened to those willful walls and forgiving storage areas? Nothing is ever good enough; like a mingy white room-once coated twice, but over time has been repainted in folding colors, creating a texture that was not meant to gain, nor pleases as a result.
I want all of the excuses and laziness and hastiness to melt away and the chaos that sits with darkness at the corners of everything, to fall away as toxic as they are, and I want to sit outside of myself and watch in praise and humble patience.
Jan 18, 2010
Jan 18, 2010 at 1:21 AM UTC
Grateful for you
That's what I am
Blissfully unaware of how hard it must be for you to love me
With my irrational moods
And my seething rage
And my hastiness to say that you're wrong
I'm a ******* nightmare
I don't know what it is that makes you want to stay
Maybe you were cursed to love a girl so intolerable
So intolerable that everyone else in her life leaves
Maybe that's why you stay
You see how few people can even stand me
And you've taken it upon yourself to stand me
And stand me for the long haul
Because you look in my eyes and you tell me you love me,
That you want me,
That you need me.
And I can see it's the truth.
But sometimes I pity you
And I wish I were strong enough to sever the connection
To protect you from further torture of loving me
But I'm far too weak to let you go
And I'm far too selfish to think of you over me
But I want to say that I'm sorry
For all the moods I go through in a day
And all the stress I must cause you
But if it's any consolation,
I love you from the very bottom of my heart
And you are the most important thing in my world
And if I could change myself,
Become more tolerable,
More lovable,
I would for you.
Nov 24, 2014
Nov 24, 2014 at 11:04 AM UTC
Iris rode a Pegasus
To see inside a star
Spiral winds of hastiness
Inside its dark parts
Examining the ecliptic ring
Spying the halo of the king
She is silently observing
Despite the heating
But Iris plans to sing
As the messenger between the kings
Escaping the PRISM of the dream
Emptied
And screaming from its screens
Tempting
A Voyager to ****** now
As it flees
Escaping
To interstellar space
As the questions beg for answers
That answer way too late
Put two in the back
And one in the face
One up close
And two far away
Iris is the eye
Of a dying race
Looking for traces of its fate
Unflinching and unblinking
It awaits
The storms of a gods face
Jun 30, 2013
Jun 30, 2013 at 6:28 PM UTC
All things that happen so fast
That the life that you thought you knew
The one gripping at your throat for breath
For death
Was not something you no longer feared
Where the hastiness of loves sweet stupid angelic eye lifting glance
The girl from the coffee stands
Turned to an old woman right before your very eyes
The flowers burst into flames
The walmart where you laughed at sprinkler sets with men who had no faces
No souls
No children to call their own
Were now spinning in a furry that tore their skin
From their bones
Dirt danced through Feburary, through Janurary, through March
To the 13th month
Where poetry hung there with their stung long and out and drooling
Dead to the sight for the love of the thing you never met
Is now so foreign
All over again
The sin of somber memories in books that when placed in mine hands
Burn like the hot coals from an undead volcano
Where fame is nothing but a sprinkle that tastes like nothing
When it rests on your tongue
That the time spent spitting our **** from a mouth that has never spoken truth
Eyes that have cried black tears
Whiteness where teeth used to be
Flowers where graves now are
Clouds moving through the heat like lizards across the barren desert
Food for the vultures whose sutures are long past infected
They are the infected
We are the infected youth piling up the garbage that has no weight
Has no past
And has only the future which will be deleted if we see
Fit
Fit for the the human cause
The human de-evolution of rat ******* hippos that know
The big screen, the big big brother
Is now forever watching for He knew He never had to stop
Never had to lock his doors, his windows, kiss his daughter goodnight
The sheets are spread out with cigarette butts and needles and gum stains of ***** sidewalks
His home is our home
But he owns it
He owns every living 6th degree burn as the water drips *****
Where the touching moments you cherish and give you "hope"
Were made from him
Invented by him
Produced through him for your enjoyment
Enjoy the moments as they come and go through and fro for to see the know
Is to then wish
You could finally go
Aug 13, 2011
Aug 13, 2011 at 1:48 PM UTC
Discarded loincloths adorn the table.
No one pays attention to the spilled milk,
catching the fever, we turn the other cheek
our hastiness turn upbeat over prevalence
it is hard; juxtapositions lie at your fingertips.
Oct 19, 2010
Oct 19, 2010 at 7:46 PM UTC
I let the boogey man in
To see if he could get me back to the sea
We were friends there once
We fished underneath the sky filled with black
Dotted with milky stars
And all the more
There were worries inside his eyes I couldn't believe
He bent down to pick up something he had dropped
And when he saw it was His heart
He sneezed
Through the history of his life
He remembers only the wide ocean blue sea
It was funny how he moved, rickety like you couldn't fathom
And the hate that I felt for the darkness just vanished
Cause we are all monsters sometimes
And angels in another
We shift with the season which hails translucent fire
Move with the wave of water that flashes bright through all of us
Is there a way to move the minds of man toward a good?
Is there a way to turn back time so one could say "I should"?
An affirmation of the rock that clashes
Within the hurricane hastiness that drops down from the heavens
While some seem to blame it on their brethren
Of course of course I'll take the drink before the dawn!
Cause these wild hearts around me have seemed blind from the start
Underneath this skin lies no man nor woman no plan
Yes' underneath this blanket of illusory warmth
Lies a thing from the land and not from the land
A starry hope like a drifting boat
That I won't turn out to be
Just a dope
May 3, 2011
May 3, 2011 at 6:08 PM UTC
Why are you far away from the beautiful scents?
All the flowers of the world belong to you
Why are you in grief and sadness ?
Doors of happiness all are waiting to be opened by you
Why are you carrying such a heavy heart ?
All the ways of attaining love are innate in you
Why are you crawling so close to the ground?
Fly high, all the seven skies belong to you
Why are you hiding away in a corner?
To learn and grow all the playgrounds are for you
Why are you moving with such hastiness?
After a test of patience, all choices belong to you
Mar 19, 2016
Mar 19, 2016 at 3:09 AM UTC
But when I came around the corner
Seeing the broken glass eyed beauty
Though I never did catch her name
I made it around that corner
To a place
Where my mind no longer made sense
I had changed yet was never even able
To say goodbye
To my former self
Even to me
Even to everyone
Even to the state
Even to the word
Even to the page
Even to everything sense
Was just back to a five letter word
Hastiness was the only way
To escape
From this living hellish moment
Where smiles are so false that when the pearly whites are shown
With utmost sincerity
I begin to cry
Because the other either knows
Or they don't
They have felt the cool burnt touch of death
Of the black out
Of the confusing moment when one realizes
There is no going back
As the river ripples it has accepted that its fate
Is already sealed
Not like us humans though
The road is rocky, it might cut my face
As the bratty boy once sang
But how have we lived for so long that the race
Is still churning the same butter
Firing the same weapons
Cooking the same recipe for disaster
Cheap corners with cheaper fares
All with the heavy eyes
Of mourners
Lined with hair that isn't even theirs
Where the voice here is not the one I know how to bear
How to release
When to relieve
Touching insanity for
Simple
Temporary
Relief
Aug 13, 2011
Aug 13, 2011 at 12:01 AM UTC
Did I,
in many honesties live through a thousand sweat filled nights
whisper 'it will be alrights'
and wake to walk away?
Did I,
imagine differences where light meets truth and fades and did I dig with jewelled ***** a grave for 'yes boss' in the shade of a stunted bush?
Did I,
in hastiness,rush to fast ,to meet the last of summer?
if so,
What was it for?
this sojourn where we burn it,turn it then to men again as we must go and tell me,who will show me,
what was it for?
Sep 30, 2013
Sep 30, 2013 at 10:51 PM UTC
All is alone now
With the graveyards full
And the boxes of tools
Rusted and made for fools
Hastiness of the word
Pushes the mind
To create nothing
But scribble and dribble
When was there a time
In time
When death was not
Knocking at the door
And when I lay up
And let myself
Hear nothing
Never wanting
To be nothing
Admiring that dreams
Are just the steam
To take you to a place
Where you already are
Failing where love
Was supposed to be
Seeing that maybe
I was truly wrong all along
Is this doubt?
Or just
Childish
Uncertainty?
But when she presses
Her lips to mine
I know that the sweet
Taste of wine
Is not a dream but
Was just meant to be
Now I lay in the arms
Of a mind not my own
Battling towards a victory
That seems most days
Like a never ending trap
Sweet sleep
True defeat
A ****** need
One that acts
Like its own disease
But feel the naked breeze
Like a queens silken crease
All these ****** needs
Is making me think
I'm more selfish then I believe
Mar 5, 2012
Mar 5, 2012 at 5:40 PM UTC
Oy Vey Smear -
More'n' $500.00 For Car Repair!
Hence mine plaintive strut forward
doleful poetically lamentable
forlorn shell shock mental state
Hyundai deniably forced
me to absorb, sans
requisite auto repair tab
this (Sonata kidding) reality
steered me sigh key -
wracked (in my pinion)
into abysmal suspension tooting horn aye
didst painfully, palp
ably, and pathetically,
(albeit mutinous on bounty of life)
envisioned good bye
regarding woebegone condition
wallet sadly, how checking account
suffered near mortal blow -
cents less lee principally reason cry
ying yup possibly heard, asper
the doll la bills blues and die,
perhaps hastiness dashing
off metrical missive
blindsided, clouded, and obscured
wheely tired call for Eli
(schwa sound) to whisk
this mister where angels fly
essentially taking Matthew
Scott Harris goodbye
from money shortages, away high
yar into the outer reaches
of the twilight auto zone
yet...deep down I dear
lee would rather engine ear
a rescue attempt by claiming fear
less flyer self as charity and gear
legitimate funding to help
a worthy cause, but such chutzpah,
would be here
see within thy coda,
dogma, and car ma,
thus eye shed headlights for
"NON FAKE" truth to app pear.
Aug 14, 2018
Aug 14, 2018 at 9:38 PM UTC
Outside native shore where distant relatives come from
Mountainous hills looked like folds of crashing tide
Grooving trees danced to the rhythm of ancestral drum
Woodcraft countenance of a beast appeared, faces run to hide
Metal gutting through air like the reek of some fermented spirit
All shivering bones must heed to this mystic call of resonance
And should one ignore those small alarming bells; waist-tied to this trigger happy grit
Only vicious death 'll bid victim farewell in any horrifying state of happenstance
We should have set forth at dawn; long before the eve of a looming Caesar's day
Lest we meet dangling blade at the crossroads handheld by bitumen-drenched ****** from southeast
But as daylight covered herself with a blanket of gathered thick clouds of may
The land's celebration of silence was ruined with the marching ankle-bells of the masked beast
Cultures are birthed like the plethora skins of an onion
Smearing our visions with this spiritual sogginess of something rooted and cruel
We have always known masquerade brandishing a stick stripped from tall bamboo straws; to be seen as a merriment minion
And not this awful glare at its wake, needing mask spray from mouth-spitting gin, perhaps; to aggravate horror of a burning fuel
We have heard rumors of their king's weaning breathe
Perhaps; mere travelers' souls should be spared from unforeseen burial rites
For our supplication of a thousand lives shall go to mend his majesty's health
So we may leave the festival behind with great hastiness and mights
Aug 12, 2024
Aug 12, 2024 at 9:10 AM UTC
Big green ball of tastiness
red is your insides
I cut you up with hastiness
2 half you divides
sweet and crunchy
red and green
melon slushy
I'm really keen
**** me now
this is a cry for help
I'm losing my sanity
guess I'll die, welp
hot summer air
cool fan blowing
fresh watermlon we share
happiness overflowing
mark the knife around your edge
slice it all around
insert the the blade to crack the skin
hear the pleasant sound
Oct 31, 2017
Oct 31, 2017 at 8:44 AM UTC