"quickest" poems
In person body language for the quickest returns
and obvious signs of disinterest and distress
Telephones for voices; plain, animated, or faking it
Letters for gesture, or a classic long slow catch up
And texting...
I know you got it
I may even know you read it
What's your excuse for delay?
Perhaps a brain lapse, perhaps some monotonous busyness
Perhaps I'm now an ignored fad, maybe you got better plans
Yet, could it be, our collective muscle memory pines for saying things by other means?
Aug 16, 2014
Aug 16, 2014 at 11:28 PM UTC
Why is it
That the biggest hearts
Are emptied the fastest?
And the brightest souls
Are blackened
The quickest?
Jun 19, 2015
Jun 19, 2015 at 5:12 PM UTC
Quickest way to bring out Hater Nation is to be:
Rich, Famous, Smart, Attractive or Ambitious.
Somebody pays you a compliment
and LOOK OUT!
Here comes the haters!
Haters hate rich people.
Haters hate famous people.
Haters hate attractive people.
Haters hate Ambition
and if they honest,
haters hate themselves.
Got some advice for all the haters of the world.
You got nothing nice to say
**** and keep it to yourself.
Worlds got wars, terrorists, poor folks with needs.
In America we got big issues like high unemployment,
poor economy, bad health care systems, some don't have
insurance, politicians who don't give a **** about anything
but getting paid a big fat paycheck and more issues.
Learn to love yourself and stop the hating
Hater Nation.
Jan 23, 2014
Jan 23, 2014 at 6:11 PM UTC
In my pursuit of a higher education
I am now starting to study the process of human decomposition
And how strange we all rot away like road **** and plant vegetation.
I see the word Casper and my memory takes me back to when I was a child
Remembering he was a sad and lonely invisible cartoon character.
I am now reading it is a proven scientific law, that after you pass
And you give up your ghost, your body then becomes
A breeding ground and you are the decaying host.
Trying to hide the evidence you’re now digging a shallow grave
Don’t do that because it takes eight times longer
Thinking about submerging in water? Yes, it’s a little quicker
But if someone did you seriously wrong and unfair
The quickest way to decompose them is,
Just leave them hiding under some brush and in the summer open air
So then the flies, insects and bee's’ can make a home in their hair.
Sir Isaac Newton told the world how gravity should behave
And now a modern man proved it is no longer so
I can see now, Newton is raging hard and deep inside his grave.
I have not a single fear the only thing that scares me is,
I know without any doubt now that I am insanely brave
Trust me I’ll drag your corpse also and hide it in my make shift grave.
I’m out on a night prowl to change Casper’s law
And prove to you all that it was really only just a theory
Reading books about death gives me a thrill,
Better pray and hope I don’t someday become terminally ill
Everything I do stems from my madness and with it,
Premeditated thoughts and also a great conspiracy.
(SirCARSr. 3-2-2013)
Mar 3, 2013
Mar 3, 2013 at 5:05 PM UTC
I blot people onto me, just to buff them away. Soakin em, and pressin em on.
Dabbin, pressin, soakin, like temporary tattoos.
Easy to apply, and pretty to look at.
Fun to show off, without any commitments, and then I just let em peel away after some time.
After their bright pigment fades, or their adhesive fails, I just rub em off.
Scratch em with my fingernails sometimes, when I get impatient.
Rub, scratch, off. Now, right now. I’m tired of lookin at you, feelin you on my skin.
I wore you for a bit,
Now it’s time for a new one.
Rub, scratch, dab, press, soak, press again again again.
Skin red, dry skin rub rub dab dab dab peel peel dab peel.
And then,
the ones I like the most, the most beautiful, the most vibrant,
color, color, color.
Purple, green.
purple purple
Purple,
are the ones I try to keep the longest,
they’re always the quickest to fade,
and to peel,
and to fail.
Fail fail fail, come unglued.
Keep em out of the sunlight, outta the wind. In the dry. But they peel.
Peel peel peel, fail.
They fail.
And then,
I can’t find others quite like em. So I press on any old picture. Any color.
Gray, red, yellow, blue. Not quite right, no blue, no citron, no salmon.
Not quite purple enough.
Not quite green.
Not quite, never quite the same.
The same purple, the same green.
Just soak soak soak soak,
Press. Peel.
Until, again, something might feel right.
Jun 15, 2012
Jun 15, 2012 at 8:28 AM UTC
The shortest distance between two points of travel.
The fastest method for achieving a result.
Quickest answer for a resolution.
Marrying equals.
All terminology meaning essentially the same thing; synthesis. That is what the two-party system is meant to be doing. It is the point of checks and balances. A check is a stopgap. A balance is a measure.
No one wants to ban personal firearms. No one wants mentally-ill people to own them. No one advocates violence by school teachers to assuage future potential violence. No reasonable person wants children to grow up in a police state school system. No American believes that State and Federal government can agree on what should be done in all states.
We will not be arming teachers. Nor will we be banning guns. There will never be armed guards at public schools. States and the Federal government disagree on so many levels there will never be consensus on change when it comes to this issue. So, change the issue in a way that offers a stopgap as a measure.
The President of The United States issues a proclamation that all land directly adjacent to the front of all public schools will be bought by the federal government at today's market price. That price will be fixed provided the states do two things. Use state eminent domain laws(every state already has them) to file a claim on said properties and assess the value thereof for the federal government.
Secondly, establish police precincts on said property.
Ask yourself;
"How many children would die if the local police were directly across the street from the school at the time of the shooting?"
And,
"Would Conservatives or Liberals be against this proposal?"
Also,
We should all remember that these shooters plan their attacks and would have to plan around the police being there immediately after they begin one.
Problem solved...
...and no one touched a gun(right) to do it.
Feb 23, 2018
Feb 23, 2018 at 3:04 AM UTC
Let me tell you a story about the time you walked me out of work, and how it changed the course of our lives. Let me explain how wiggly my insides felt to have you walking beside me. And let me tell you how I slowed my pace the closer we got to my car, trying not to be obvious. Let me tell you about us standing there, talking face-to-face outside of work for the first time ever, and how good and natural it felt. And let me tell you, time passed so quickly then, and the drizzle started turning to rain but I still didn’t want to go. So let me tell you about how I got courageous again, and asked if you wanted to go sit and talk in your car. Let me tell you how happy I was when you said yes, and how I’ve never been so thankful for rain. Let me tell you about our first of many “car dates,” when we just sat and talked. And let me tell you how it became clear very quickly that we are a natural fit. Because, let me tell you, I was so nervous that I’d be too quiet and we’d have nothing to say and it would become the bad awkward. But let me tell you how that didn’t happen, and we sat for hours in conversation. Let me tell you about our goodbye and how it was getting late because time had become nonexistent with you. And let me tell you about how you drove me back to my car because you didn’t want me walking in the rain, and I was so taken by how sweet you were. Let me tell you about how I was unsure of what to do, because we had hugged many times before, but honestly, I’d spent the whole evening wanting to sample your lips. But let me tell you, I’m not the one to make a move like that, so I just went for a hug as usual. And let me tell you how disappointed I was in myself. So let me tell you how I turned back, determined to kiss you, but quickly lost every nerve I had, and so started to settle for a second hug, this time adding the quickest kiss on your cheek. But let me also tell you how that somehow brought back the bravery, and I went for the kiss I truly desired. And let me tell you, baby, I’ll never know how I got the courage to kiss you first, but **** am I glad I did. Because, let me tell you, that kiss became one of the most pivotal moments in my life, and made me believe there was something worth living for. Let me tell you how your kiss saved my life.
May 29, 2014
May 29, 2014 at 1:11 PM UTC
what was once Ivory
has now returned to granite
BOTH WE LIE, IN THE EARTH,
yet i.. i am still tortured with breath, with sight.
there is no need of voice.
i will hang on the farewell as it is a rope from Troy around my neck.
lull me down with you please, please, please. i am nothing but that.
there is nothing more to be said.
HOW DO YOU LIVE WHEN WHAT MADE YOU YOU IS DEAD?
(sleep in the wheat, i will be there soon.)
you find the quickest way to them instead.
i am not sorry.
Mar 17, 2017
Mar 17, 2017 at 4:04 PM UTC
Life tends to kick you quickest when you're down
Like the little pithy scratch of jealousy
On your neck as you see the signs
When your girlfriend's stale eyes
Begin to wander
Begin to wander too specifically
For your personal
Comfort
May 17, 2014
May 17, 2014 at 5:06 AM UTC
*blink an eye and it will disappear
blink the other and you will cry
a thousand tears of joy
blink them both and watch
fireflies alight the azure sky
in suspenseful darkness the alabaster moon
croons its romantic breath over all those vineyards
angels taste the dryness of the grapes
and laugh at the waste of another year’s wine
move out of the way of human frailty
share your space with our immortal stakes
a slavery more terrible than any mankind has yet to try
the Goddess is our home
sower of seeds for those that fast internally
rise the quickest
and dance the hardest
seek the longest roads
give more than you’ve ever known
swallow whole this ocean filled
with the bones of your daughters
forsaken in trendy delicatessens
our heroes are just myths that drift
like derelicts in psyche’s mythos
i am pathos, eros and shadow
i am daylight’s twin brother
her-eyes-on the horizon
yet she could see through to his soul
her-eyes-on the horizon
if we are destined to find our way back home*
Apr 5, 2017
Apr 5, 2017 at 10:28 PM UTC
The good.
The good die young?
Is it absolutely true
That only the good are jabbed
With an arrow of a short life?
It makes no sense to me…
I had breakfast this morning.
She couldn’t.
I laughed with my friends.
She can’t.
The most hurtful thing is,
I woke up this morning.
She didn’t.
Why?
Why, God?
Why is it that the lives
That seem to have been
The most valuable are the ones
That get taken away the quickest?
I take a breath,
And it’s over.
But, not for me.
I carry on.
Is the fact that my life
Is far from perfect
The reason I’m still here,
Still breathing?
Was her vibrancy and passion
Something you needed right then?
Yes, she will be exactly the angel
You were searching for yesterday.
She is no longer in pain.
It’s the ones she left behind
That my prayers are for,
Tonight.
You will be missed, angel.
Mar 11, 2013
Mar 11, 2013 at 2:58 AM UTC
I can't take my eyes off of the brightest stars in the sky
Those are the ones that are burning out the quickest
I fear if you continue to gaze at me the way I gaze at them
You'll be just as sad realizing my light is burning out just the same
May 30, 2016
May 30, 2016 at 3:43 PM UTC
I’ve been thinking about hands
a lot lately and how fingerprints are like
permanent, foreshadowing tree rings
etched onto our beings; I wonder if
the number of rings on my palms have any
correlation to the number of years I’ll live or
the number of years he’ll live or the number of
years that she lived. I’ve been thinking a lot about
life lines and heart lines
and if there is any stock to be found in palmistry;
I wonder how my fate line got to be
so muddled with my luck line.
I see my life the way a clairvoyant would:
in cut-up and choppy strips of film—
I should have seen the omens,
I should have read the smoke signals,
I should have recognized the cards.
Act One began on a waning crescent moon
and continued until its gluttonous belly
had swollen with light; I thought to
myself that craniums made of gallium
often melt the quickest, that blood filled
with plutonium often flows the slowest. I would
have given my body up to the pathologist free of charge,
would have let him dig his hands into my entrails for
some sort of divination, some sort of revelation—
I was never told to beware the Ides of June
nor the Kalends of November.
Act Two began with the birth of Jack Frost
and has been continuing without intermission for
the past four celestial cycles; I thought to
myself that heart valves made of sodium polyacrylate
often love the most, that sinkholes disguised as
fingertips often feel the deepest. He whispered
in my ear cliched words about not believing in
God, but how I made him feel blessed, and in
that moment I knew he was the oneiromantic being
that had been shadowing my dreams since 1996—
I guess you could say that, sometimes,
I believe in love.
There is an art to fortune-telling
there is an art to hands
there is an art to bones
there is an art to dreams, and over the years,
I have found them coinciding more often
than not. In my sleep, in notebooks, in
irises, in mirrors, in poetry, in small little sighs.
I do not know if I believe in fate or destiny, in
God, in auras, or in the Blood Moon Prophecy,
but I do know that I believe in you. I find myself writing
sappy verses and smelling your shirts and I do
not know if it is because I miss you or if it is because
I’m bored or if they’ve somehow
mergedintothesamething.
I’ve been wondering a lot lately about
where you show up on my hands; about where
he showed up and where she showed up. I want
to know which lines bisect and which lines fall
short; I want to know if the resemblance between
mother and daughter
continues into that of my palm lines. I want to know
if my life line matches hers and if my heart line
is even worth giving away—
find me in your crystal ball, make me
your sacrificed animal, look for my body
in the stars, and we will know that
it was all made to be.
May 2, 2014
May 2, 2014 at 7:02 PM UTC
Physician Nature! Let my spirit blood!
O ease my heart of verse and let me rest;
Throw me upon thy Tripod, till the flood
Of stifling numbers ebbs from my full breast.
A theme! a theme! great nature! give a theme;
Let me begin my dream.
I come -- I see thee, as thou standest there,
Beckon me not into the wintry air.
Ah! dearest love, sweet home of all my fears,
And hopes, and joys, and panting miseries, --
To-night, if I may guess, thy beauty wears
A smile of such delight,
As brilliant and as bright,
As when with ravished, aching, vassal eyes,
Lost in soft amaze,
I gaze, I gaze!
Who now, with greedy looks, eats up my feast?
What stare outfaces now my silver moon!
Ah! keep that hand unravished at the least;
Let, let, the amorous burn --
But pr'ythee, do not turn
The current of your heart from me so soon.
O! save, in charity,
The quickest pulse for me.
Save it for me, sweet love! though music breathe
Voluptuous visions into the warm air;
Though swimming through the dance's dangerous wreath,
Be like an April day,
Smiling and cold and gay,
A temperate lilly, temperate as fair;
Then, Heaven! there will be
A warmer June for me.
Why, this, you'll say, my ***** is not true:
Put your soft hand upon your snowy side,
Where the heart beats: confess -- 'tis nothing new --
Must not a woman be
A feather on the sea,
Sway'd to and fro by every wind and tide?
Of as uncertain speed
As blow-ball from the mead?
I know it -- and to know it is despair
To one who loves you as I love, sweet *****
Whose heart goes fluttering for you every where,
Nor, when away you roam,
Dare keep its wretched home,
Love, love alone, his pains severe and many:
Then, loveliest! keep me free,
From torturing jealousy.
Ah! if you prize my subdued soul above
The poor, the fading, brief, pride of an hour;
Let none profane my Holy See of love,
Or with a rude hand break
The sacramental cake:
Let none else touch the just new-budded flower;
If not -- may my eyes close,
Love! on their lost repose.
2.4k
At the age of nine he wanted to die
which was something I couldn't understand
because I knew our mother loved us.
desperation so
doctors drill diagnostic decisions down his throat.
I pray he won't choke on the
shallow pills he has to swallow
hollow dreams he has to follow.
Sedating's seductive for families who can afford it.
The Founding Fathers have forged my future,
they've mocked my freedom and cashed in on humans.
America likes to revive our problems with the quickest fix, money solves it.
My brothers become another lab rat
to solidify the fact that these pills are legit.
Simply because his name appears on a list.
Ignoring the fact his original pain was nothing but a claim
against all of this cultural ********
Apr 7, 2015
Apr 7, 2015 at 1:25 PM UTC
She knows of the sensitivity that riddles me.
Even the quickest of her words I catch, and they leave my hands red.
Why mother?
Why do you spit venom at me, and weigh me down with cruelty?
You know how I nourish my sensitivity.
You know I will eat up and gnaw angrily on your words.
I try to pick out what I do not want to hear,
But I hear them anyway. You know my ears are always open.
You know I take everything to heart, why do you take advantage of that?
Why father?
Why pick a woman so bitter and cruel?
Do you not want me to be loved?
I have a wound in my chest.
And I try to fill it with her love, but she offers me none.
Where can I lay down all this guilt my mothers give me?
Sep 12, 2021
Sep 12, 2021 at 3:28 PM UTC
The night before, she whispered,
"The quickest way to break a heart
is to pretend you have one."
Howling,
like you've never heard before.
And she sat next to me, radiating.
Her body jumped with every bump,
as foam blossomed out of her mouth.
And I promised her
that I would get her there in time.
And her dealer promised me
he didn't give her anything.
Howling.
I was howling,
like you and I have never heard before.
And her glazed eyes would open.
And my eyes were wide shut.
Her body lain crooked,
like the antenna of the wrecked car
my grandfather left me.
And I wondered if the planet
was moving too quickly
or if I wasn't moving fast enough -
before I decided the only time
that was real, was now.
Howling.
The police sirens were howling,
like the suburbs have never heard before.
The wails were begging me to pull over.
And the flashes of red and blue
danced across her ivory skin.
She mumbled to her deceased grandma,
and I asked her to stay.
And in that moment,
I tried to numb myself.
I tried to detach
and let the river carry me.
Howling.
I was howling,
like the deputy
had never heard before.
I begged for an escort.
I begged to go back into my car.
He looked at her knotted body
but didn't see her like I saw her.
And he told me to remain calm.
He told me to stop yelling -
but I couldn't express enough.
I couldn't release enough desperation.
And the river carried me
to the rocks before the fall.
At the bottom, I knew she was dying,
and this killed me, most of all.
Howling.
I was howling her name,
like she had heard before -
but not this time.
No, not this time.
The night before, she whispered,
"The quickest way to break a heart
is to pretend you have one."
May 17, 2015
May 17, 2015 at 5:33 PM UTC
Who do you think you are?
You, the one with the prettiest of faces but the ugliest of hearts.
Who do you think you are?
You, the one with the brightest of eyes but the dullest of mind.
Who do you think you are?
You, the one with the quickest of tongue but the slowest of wit.
Who do you think you are?
You, the one fastest to judge but not acknowledge your own flaws
Who do you think you are?
You, the one with the smallest of knives but the biggest of smiles.
Who do you think you are?
You, the one with the twist of your knife at the back even as you're hugging.
Who do you think you are?
Nobody. That's who.
Jan 19, 2015
Jan 19, 2015 at 10:47 PM UTC
A clown with a frown was talking to a king with a crown, when a mime happened by, and mimed to them, “What’s the quickest way out of town?”
The king said to the mime “To catch a train, be on time.” And the clown laughed at the king, and it began to rain
The mime grabbed his bags and looked at the king, and the clown, and mimed “Thanks, I’ve got to run.”
“Was the mime on time to catch the train?” said the king to the clown. “I don’t know.” Said the clown, and again says, “Do we really need all this rain?”
Feb 10, 2019
Feb 10, 2019 at 8:31 PM UTC
Splintered decisions
Now here’s the fun part
Finding which way is quickest to the stars
The quietest outro with the detour to mars
Despite all the downpour I’ve cut through and charted a path to the new
Looked past what you’ve put me through
I know I’ve done the same
All this time and the shame still plays in the back of my brain
Symphonies of deceit and false image of grandeur
Reliquaries built on the blood of the meek
High and mighty was the sheep
Lofty in aims getting fat for the feast
Deigned to believe it a wolf and was greeted with punctured lungs
Blood spilled from the throat of the unsung
Devoured on behalf of its insolence
Now the grave screams to be undone
At last I return to where I begun
Jun 26, 2015
Jun 26, 2015 at 3:11 PM UTC
I had a haircut, I read it cuts off feelings.
I forced myself to smile, my mama said it heals it.
I met some people who I’ve never ever met ,
My friends ensured me it has to help.
I started drinking stronger liquor,
Tequila was the best, it worked the quickest.
Some time has passed, I thought I am feeling better,
I have moved on and I became independent.
My under eyes stopped needing so much make-up,
And I thought to myself: f*ck, yes! I made it.
Until a day that I received a text:
“New haircut looks great, I need you back.”
A very long one minute later I replied:
“I’ve never left.”
Feb 4, 2018
Feb 4, 2018 at 12:17 PM UTC
Sunday’s an auspicious day to suggest
that you, as a student, take a recess
in order to try and decompress
from our studying and stress
Now, of course, if you’re so possessed,
or some might even say obsessed,
you could study for a test,
we all want to do our best
but some work habits can oppress
and leave one all depressed
Just take a needed rest
and if your needs are unaddressed
get caressed when you’re undressed
some would have that thought suppressed
or simply left it unexpressed
but under oath I would attest
and to a priest I have confessed
all my roommates acquiesced
that for relaxation it’s the best
and quickest way to get unstressed
there are a hundred things I could suggest
you type “A”s tend to make everything a contest
in this, there are no professors for you to impress
this isn’t a competitive, academic trap, trick or jest
I just know that, on Monday, this girl will be refreshed
Apr 30, 2023
Apr 30, 2023 at 11:11 PM UTC
She looks at me and I know in that
quickest
of
seconds
something is wrong.
*"Mom?
Mom?!"*
And she
crumples
against my sister.
I saw the
confusion
in my mom's eyes
and now I see the
panic
in my sister's.
My mom, limp on the ground,
isn't responding
to my repeated pleas.
*"She's having a stroke!
She's having a stroke!"*
Panic makes my sister's voice
frantic.
We've been here before.
All around people are crowding
waytooclose,
but the shouts for EMS can't
drown out the
burst
of silence suddenly in my head.
My sister and I lock eyes,
transported
to when this happened before,
wondering...
worrying...
Sep 5, 2015
Sep 5, 2015 at 6:51 PM UTC
heartbroken, housebroken
I lost your nuance, pray remind me
redness across my chest, heat and too many voices at once
heartwarmed, housewarmed
big sweaters, his sweaters on your shoulders, no makeup
the basement with gray fabric trees, and baby kisses, and baby steps.
the milk-foam and the let’s-meet-again espresso hiding untouched posited tomorrow
among banana peels and pearls and tissue
and after, cranberry stains on teacups piled in the kitchen
(a very narrow human interval between two tiger heartbeats)
and tight sweaters, grown-up make-up
that same basement, blank before morning
and the Philosophe, my favorite couched villain over us
too many voices discussing horticulture or eternity
I Do Not Recognize Eternity, is what I told you
tigers slow down for the night, sometimes
--the quickest change of heart, is what you thought
and I, again, chose the stars.
Jan 24, 2013
Jan 24, 2013 at 7:00 PM UTC