"microsecond" poems
I want to live
Forever,
Where instinct is born
That sacred state
found in throngs of dancers
Pressed tight like bubbles
of compressed air inside scrap metal
on this aerosol dancefloor
or the microsecond in which
I am falling deep
in this freezing autumn sea
Midnight adventures
With a friend so dear
Fits of giggles, clad in nothing
From head to feet
And a rushed kiss
behind closed doors
All ruffled hair,
Plum stained necks,
Bodies pressed together
like two cards from a deck
I long for these places
And feelings so strong
I have fallen for all those places
Where thoughts don't belong
Sep 9, 2014
Sep 9, 2014 at 6:56 PM UTC
A contortionist achieves ******
Her ******** saluting her lips
From within an envelope of pleasure
Causing local beatitude
Though one may query such enthusiasm
Her ******** cooing mollifying concert
Waltzing against the hips of autumn temptation
That she was vibrant
Or that she was barren
Or that in artistry
This plausible microsecond
The happening of dawn quite imminent
And a canary perched upon a fence
Lavish us with falsettos
Each and every organism throughout the universe
Itself just below its conception
And love equalizes the balance
Sep 7, 2012
Sep 7, 2012 at 10:52 PM UTC
there were things
i had never imagined
i would understand
be; experience
and gape bemusedly at my
unbelieving ambiguous eyes
in the unnoticeably clear
smiling mirror of the bathroom.
things such as
being a creep
the creep whose wandering eye
wanders just a wee bit longer.
A microsecond length of
the not-understood, the suspicious,the dubious
the curious sometimes,
but really mostly nefarious lunatic, perhaps...?
the creep whose teeth clench into a
smile.
the lips parting
but only
Mendaciously...perhaps..?
the creep who peers into me
like a god
scouring my precious little secrets
my hurt points,
my loci of scandalous innocuous things
meant to be inside of me
for my self.
the creep who infringes
on my warm bed
of Safety.
***
********
erectile dysfunction
sneer
******
*****
me
father
mother
weirdity
all the complexes
that make you Feel
like a spider
whose web is shattered with
but an uncaring finger.
power.
Uncaring Callousness
terrifying in it's brutality
intent ,
and things beyond .
the creep peers in.
but i was only trying
to make friends.
a bit too hard , perhaps...?
oh the creeps of the world
i understand thy plight
the fact that you never understand
what you are
doing
but only after it has passed
that the black hole irises
of un-understanding visages
come to you
to inform you
that you have been
a creep, the Creep.
Jan 2, 2014
Jan 2, 2014 at 1:07 AM UTC
How can you define time?
Is there a definition to it?
Some say time passes fast.
Some say it passes slow.
The universe has been around for billions of years.
But that wasn't long ago, right?
There is no beginning to time.
Or end to it.
It's infinite.
But, is a second little or a lot of time?
A second is in an hour is in a day is in a week is in a month is in a year is in a decade is in a century is in a millennial, is in a million years is in a billion years is in a trillion years and so forth.
Yet...
A nanosecond is in a microsecond is in a millisecond is in a hundredth of a second is in a tenth of a second is in a ninth of a second is in an eighth of a second is in a seventh of a second is in a sixth of a second is in a fifth of a second is in a fourth of a second is in a third of a second is in half a second and so forth.
Time doesn't start, but it doesn't end.
TIME IS INFINITE!
What is the definition of infinite?
Nov 4, 2014
Nov 4, 2014 at 3:59 PM UTC
Sometimes I think I do too many things, and that it takes on my life,
And constricts my breathing
But in truth I am thankful for at least my stressful days are full
So many die and crow, 'if only, if only,'
Perhaps 'If only I had taken time to enjoy the small things,'
But I won't regret it because I can't regret putting too much of myself into the world,
In fact, I think my only regret would be not sharing enough of it
How could I, so blessed with life for another microsecond on this earth, be so selfish?
Mar 24, 2012
Mar 24, 2012 at 2:31 AM UTC
like a walking
smash novel
waiting to happen;
this isn't perks,
there's no ****
and no falcon,
and certainly
no flower grow(ing)
on the wall.
like a british
teen drama
or ******** of
equal magnitude.
this isn't skins,
well it is, just
less exciting,
less meaningful,
less expressive--
basically,
less british
like a discography
from thepiratebay,
or a microsecond
clip of sound waves,
this isn't a teen
anthem, or some
ridiculous ballad
written by puppeteers
who don't know
any better for
children far too
young to even
comprehend
the concept of
loss.
this isn't about
the strain on their
parents or the baby
in her belly, or even
about the ****** up
liver of a walking,
deceased villain,
no.
it's about the
universal and
ubiquitous:
hollowness.
longing.
strife.
the record's straight,
no thanks to me,
we'll all sleep
easier tonight,
won't we?
who am i kidding.
i writed (clever)
a wrong made so
many times before
it doesn't even matter.
it's forgotten,
no longer verbatim,
content to just be;
people describe it
by saying,
"it just is, man."
and that,
ladies and gentlemen,
is a reason to cry.
Nov 22, 2012
Nov 22, 2012 at 3:34 AM UTC
It’s Friday night and a group of us, the ‘university summer fellows’ (Quinn, Jammie, Monique, Lisa and I) are going groovin’. Quinn, a Harvard man (we’ve shed our jaundiced opinions of him), assured us he knows the Boston bar scene. We’re going to test that.
We told him we wanted to sway to whimsical beats and chase vivid, neon lights across dance floors, like a bunch of cats - till the hours get wee. His plan is for us to pop-in the “touristy” places, like ‘the Havana Club’, ‘the Manray club’, ‘Garage Boston’ and ‘The Grand’, we’re so 111. As usual, Charles is our party mom, escort and driver.
When Peter and I were in Saint-Tropez, earlier this summer, there were beach clothes - dresses, skirts and men's shirts - where they’d woven micro-LEDs into the flowered, dry-wick, fabrics. I think the effect is amazing, friday, and joyous. I got two skirts for everyone (all of my roommates). Tonight Lisa and I are wearing a couple of them.
Funny. I’ve mentioned it before, but Lisa‘s an audrey. Her school friends and roommates are all used to it, we’ve been exposed, we have built up immunity. But Quinn’s a newbie, when Lisa came into the living room, LED glittered and lookin-right, he was literally stunned. He froze, for a microsecond, his face went blank and his fingers wiggled, as if disconnected from his overloaded central nervous system.
*** Jammie said, having just turned around, “holla at ya brooke!,” he declared, shaking his head in admiration. “Umm mmm,” he added.
“I’m sure.” Lisa said, starting to transfer things from her everyday bag to her glittery clutch, the girl cannot accept a compliment. Quinn, coming out of it, cleared his throat.
We’re ready. Let Friday night begin!
Jun 30, 2023
Jun 30, 2023 at 12:12 PM UTC
I would write a poem about you but I don't know you
not yet
I would praise your features, hair-lips-eyes-nose
the angles and curves and lines and scratches that make your face
but
I'm not familiar with them
not yet
All I know is that we're supposed to be together and that one day your face will be etched in my memory for eternity
and that eternity will seem like a microsecond
-no shorter-
when we're together
I would write a poem about you but I don't know you
not yet
Sep 7, 2013
Sep 7, 2013 at 1:34 PM UTC
The Level of Uncertainty, This Yellow Star
“Even though I’m OK right now,
there’s a sense it could all go
away in a second.”
<>
foreboding,
a disease well known to me,
not “as if,” but in fact
been Cain-marked at
birth to be wary, be watchful,
ever alert, never inert in the
realm of possibilities,
the king
in my universe’s galaxy is the
randomness of existence,
microsecond, milligram minuscule,
muscular instability that even if
unspoke,
danger!
it’s bespoke nature, customized
just for me, lurks, prepared to ****
me into a hard fall, loss of balance
yes,
I prepare with subtleties, minute
measures, discrete and indiscreet,
measured steps, slow-wide turns,
“hands on the railing down the stairs we go”
motto~attitudinal, antithesis~carefree,
for this birthmark was forehead installed
from birth, as a reminder that
reckless abandon
is a countervailing force,
and there are whales in the ocean
and whole coteries of fish in the sea,
waiting, wanting to swallow me whole,
lions across the ocean faraway continents
eager for a nibble of my tender heart,
round **** and
thousands of people
who hate me and my kind, for no reason,
other than my birth mark,
this foreheaded
yellow star,
notifying all eyes, that I am to be dreaded,
feared, for reasons no matter,
just but unjustly
because, I am a Jew
who prays thrice
times daily for peace
for the whole world.
Sat Feb 10
8:35am
Feb 24, 2024
Feb 24, 2024 at 7:46 AM UTC
you become one with yourself
in a yoga class
with a basketball game happening
directly overhead
you feel at peace - at least
you are supposed to
with heavy eyes you walk out
loose and floating
you walk to the gym
and do bench press
bicep curls
tricep extensions
you are nothing if not
you are nothing without
you are nothing but
a predictable perfectionist
staring into your own eyes a million miles away
contradicting yourself
on a microsecond by microsecond basis
you eat a rice cake
Oct 19, 2014
Oct 19, 2014 at 9:17 AM UTC
I've run on this treadmill;
a heavy load
of love
and
sweat on my shoulders.
I'm falling,
but I can't seem to hurt
myself.
In the face!
I've been dragging,
this foot. Around.
for a while.
and some.
A pain - throbbing vain.
Right here.
A microsecond of hope.
A sip of this diamond
studded.
jar.
she has said all the words.
those beautiful
ones.
the trail of her gown.
stuck --
between his jaws.
she has spoken.
your words.
those wholesome
ones.
the secret in her smile
caught --
within his fists.
I've travelled on this bicycle;
nights and miles.
rags.
dust and bags.
This heart of yours,
I've found last week.
stabbed.
******
and somehow tamed,
out of its blood.
I've asked, what'd happened -
you can't fix
that old shoelace --
anymore.
Feb 2, 2010
Feb 2, 2010 at 12:56 AM UTC
When the floating moment passes
Everything crashes down.
A second, a millisecond, a microsecond
It’s short and long and short once more.
Nobody expects the end.
But we know it is coming
Because it always does.
The wind whispers to me:
𝑔𝑜𝑜𝒹𝒷𝓎𝑒
Sep 15, 2023
Sep 15, 2023 at 11:12 AM UTC
Grievous
I hold you as the chameleon with his spring-trigger bone
Holds his tongue
And I will catch you as a fist
I will lick the stench from your odor sacks
as a skunk
All those creepy little fragments
bugs in the system;glitched codes
they are shackled souls in a microsecond arc-length
of the universal
Prodding the dirt
and the worms
as stars
How about all the spice trees?
The many different species of food glitter
they make the buds sparkle, they are thinking of the taste
of umami, of sour, of patchwork gaze
the cooked vestibules of bone
the marrow, seeping into the stew
The pepper trees are smoked
equinoctial bonfires
You and I are yet to be cooked through
A taxi in the trader joes parking lot
Big repetitive 7's splattered across its paneling
I won't forget when i'm drunk or inebriated somehow
The tree in the center of town is lit up with LEDs
Branches curling like worms
You are Pharos, you are the great celestial beam
you are the crescent moon, thin as a sleeve
and the hot taste of batter on your breath
the way you let my Guinness cool off next to the space-heater
and give me yogurt from the local townsfolk
Everything is creamy, you said.
But i don't like to hear that
It's a steel rod into my brain, that.
I am a simple Vishnu Hare Brahma
I do not have any purpose but to be enlightened
and worshiped for my powerful odors
and a four-chambered bowel
that makes the turn easier for worms.
2
Pitiful
You are the hopeless pod
the many wildebeest, crossing their annuals
through twirling water-crocs,
Lion Prides
Leopards shifting within the brush
Bacterial infections from ***** tusks
Strange metal boxes
No 7's on this side
I want to blow the ******* skulls off of anything
that aims for you, sweet mare
45-70
Will literally send chunks of it into orbit
Lion or Turtle or window or Children
The most godly thing is a bullet
And the streams of blood that will seed a new ravine
and seep the next feed of riverrun
Will you be mine, then?
Oct 13, 2018
Oct 13, 2018 at 4:39 AM UTC
'Do you understand the incredible godliness of a straight line?!' my madman said to me.
'Not quite,' I said, 'But I am not beyond hope to instruction."
'We cannot see a straight line in our world,' he said, 'But we thought of one nonetheless. Something came from nothing, ex nhilo, ex nhilo.' he said.
I watched his logic at work from my place at his right hand.
'Have you ever tried to draw? Straight lines are hard, try drawing a sunset. Try to draw your hand.'
I did, though I'm not sure it was his intention.
It came out wrong.
'Look! LOOK. You see? The heart of the world is but a skewed imprint when we draw it. You cannot see the world, but the lines and shadows of the world are there, and it would take a lifetime to truly draw them.'
My madman took the pen and drew a perfect sunset, with my hand clasped around it, as one would grip something so fragile, so quick to vanish.
'There are sketch lines in all we see, the world is creating a drawing in every microsecond, every heartbeat creates universes.'
His hand shook and the pen fell, ink at his feet and his hands. He looked upon them.
He rubbed the ink on his palms.
'The world is the greatest artist... And we?'
He lay his hands on the page before him, and the truest image of a hand he could ever draw was in front of me. I saw many sunsets in his fingerprints.
'We are the imitators.'
I smiled, and my madman smiled back.
Or at least as close as he could come.
Jan 23, 2015
Jan 23, 2015 at 6:38 PM UTC
Do you think i will forget you easyly you knox yourself thats impossible darling you always in my mind you soft lips ur curveceous body ur smile ur thigh oh i cant i cant it will be a true lie if i tell you just go coz i will never think of you.....you knw what every microsecond you smile ur cute eyes comes to my thoughts and i cant deny these feeling am feeling inside I LOVE YOU owkay just knw that darling no one can ever take you place and space love you
Sep 20, 2015
Sep 20, 2015 at 10:07 AM UTC
Every microsecond of moon phases you touched my soul's higher faith
with myriad, soft petals of your soul's rosewood. Branches of hope
dripping with untamed waters all over your body are visible, sacred only for my eyes, my mouth, my tounge .
Apr 19, 2016
Apr 19, 2016 at 6:17 AM UTC
i’ve had them, resting their heads on my chest
listening
listening
listening
to the same ******* beat that my doctor tells me isn’t right, and they think it’s for them.
she slowed it down so well some nights i felt weightless, every ba-thump a microsecond offbeat, my entire being syncopated -
flit.
May 5, 2022
May 5, 2022 at 12:04 PM UTC
Maybe it's easy to wait
for the spring after winter,
day after night.
But for patience
We need love and faith.
I have started understanding
this reasons now.
Until I get it all I will paint hope
Just like the way he explains
Dark and light Of his waiting
In this World's
Microsecond of silence.
Aug 7, 2019
Aug 7, 2019 at 11:13 AM UTC
I stuttered beneath this green low-rised roof
upon seeing you.
Jaw-dropped as you took
two steps forward to where I stood.
I was frozen, while the world
has paused from revolving.
You smiled with your face
5 inches away from mine.
The scent of your breath
caught me breathless.
I smiled back, being a late response,
stiffly and wide-eyed.
Palpitations worsen
for every counting microsecond.
You raised your hand to touch
the side of my face using
the back of your pointing finger.
I closed my eyes accompanied by falling tears.
Then you wiped those tears
using the thumb of your other hand, and
now you're holding my entire face by the side.
Still, my eyes remained close and
tears continuing to fall.
I took my breath, finally.
A breath with a sound,
a sound of longing,
the sound of sobering to miss you
all these time we were apart.
Your lips touched the center of my forehead.
I closed my eyes tighter until it hurts
already for me to open them.
You put your forehead to mine,
this time it’s your eyes that were closed.
You whispered, “I’m sorry for all the pain
I’ve caused you”
I spoked in return, “Drop it, for within
those pain my heart has known
how much love I have for you”
“Do you still–”
“I said drop it, just come with me
and take me to your arms again.”
“Aren’t you afraid that I might hurt you again?”
“I’d rather have you hurt me again yet
remained here at my side, than not to be hurt at all,
yet WITHOUT YOU.”
You let go of my face to put your arms
around me, and you gave me
the embrace and the feeling I have longed for
since the day you left.
And now my heart dropped,
giving its own self to you again,
willingly and carrying nothing else
but the never ending unconditional love
it always have for you.
Oct 27, 2015
Oct 27, 2015 at 9:30 PM UTC