Noel Quiles


Telling stories by any means necessary.

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An Unusual Suspect

“We get stiffs like him all the time,” Clive mused.
The detective briefed Nelson on their man,
Barely audible over their window fan.
The poor rookie was thoroughly confused.

“H-he’s dead, boss? That’s what you’re tellin’ me?”
Nelson busied himself less with the case,
More with this apparent corpse, making space.
“Well yeah Nelson, information ain’t free.”

The duo combed through the cadaver, quickly,
Their analysis rivaling their haste.
With time to spare the deed was done, sans waste,
However, it left Nelson feeling sickly.

“We’re not doin’ that again, boss…not soon.”
Clive let Nelson think it over for now,
Deftly concealing his own furrowed brow.
“You’ll live, there’s another suspect at noon.”


Ghastly, malformed, those words did it justice.
The wretch stared back, its eyes transfixed on him.
He could only continue his long gaze,
Thoughts pushing his tolerance to the brim.

They stayed locked in position, unaware.
Their surroundings collapsed, the truth left bare.
All they knew was this moment, this solace.
Devoid of interest in what would pass.

Soon, their bindings were finally severed.
Earth itself sought to end their mental exchange.
Fissures spread, seeming also to cut their ties
As the land put them violently at range.

His thoughts now mirrored those tense vibrations.
Its mind cycled through myriad migrations.
They struggled to get the better of it,
But their fates were tragic…unfortunate.

Absolute Zero

The cold rushes, banishing work and heat.
Entropy’s agent swiftly settles things.
Satellites, white dwarfs, planetary rings,
All masses and bodies suffer defeat.

Even safe observers believe themselves doomed,
For their self-narrowed scope kept morale high.
Fact was hidden, even with the end nigh;
No being whatsoever knew what loomed.

Slow, steady order is now cosmic law.
Observers and objects alike consent
To their euthanasia, protest unsent,
Maimed and devoured by physics’ foul maw.

Epochs pass, the universe drained of spark.
Atoms, plants, stars and systems all but stop.
It was more than a temperature drop;
The cosmos returned wholly to the dark.

The Coming Storm

She will strike without warning, she will stay.
She’ll disturb the flora and fauna below.
We won’t expect her, bathed in her warm glow,
Awash in the relief from a cold day.

She is oblivious; she doesn’t know this.
She is unaware of her own brute strength.
We must prepare for this force at great length,
This coming storm’s the nemesis of bliss.

Alas, we must remember our findings.
This is no mere storm, this is another chance,
A time to apply what we know at a glance,
To not chain ourselves in those old bindings.

Prepared, we stand fast, facing the ocean.
We’ve no other way to confront this storm.
Her third assault will be far from the norm,
But still we proceed and embrace that notion.

The Next Step

The gap is small, but energy’s needed.
Simply hopping just won’t suffice.
Emotional energy should be multiplied thrice,
Or that stalwart limit will never be exceeded.

This will be a leap of trust, not blind faith,
For I am certain of my process.
I warn myself against logic in excess,
Lest my emotional self fade away as a wraith.


The metaphor here made The Epiphany a very different piece than it might have been.

The prolonged conflict has come to a close,
Its scars remaining throughout the scorched earth.
Both factions now rethinking their worth,
And the verity of the path each one chose.

The survivors of the battle seek each other,
Across the barren remnants of the land.
While no longer bearing armaments in hand,
They want war to cease rather than smother.

Hours passed, and slowly the soldiers gathered.
They are tired, utterly defeated.
Each side stands apart, their tension heated,
Even as the worst had boiled over and lathered.

All differences withheld are cast aside
As all involved attempt a lasting truce.
This would make warfare bereft of its use,
And bring about the ebb of its high tide.

Above is the composition of my heart,
The antithesis of rhyme and reason.
To rid myself of this haggard season
Is to tear doubt and selfishness apart.


It seems like getting through this situation
Is like making peace with my mind’s nation.
Two warring factions, one for it, one against,
Each one doing battle at my sanity’s expense.

I’ve tried taking one route for years, and it shows.
Some pseudo-fixation…where it came from no one knows.
How to stop it? How to move on?
I’m just looking for a way to reach the dawn.

The problem still remains, I’m almost addicted.
Every set of options always seems conflicted.
This war must end soon, and with speed,
For the peace that will follow is what I desperately need.

But all attempts are failing, all ways out being sealed,
How will I end this war before it is revealed?

Hopeless Romantic

I’ve been intensely thinking from day to day,
My psyche itself under constant strain
As it tries to conceal this annoying pain;
One that I’m sure will never fade away.

Can’t tell whether it’s love or hate,
She’s starting to anger me, what a shame…
And she was the one for me; I’m to blame.
Pure imagination drove me down this dire strait.

However, the ideas must’ve been inspired.
Thoughts like that don’t simply materialize…
It’s only a matter of time till I realize:
These concepts can’t possibly be rewired.

Our Eternity

Mom wanted to put this one in the New Yorker. I thought she was kidding too.

Our existence is a mere tick of infinity.
In this undying void we call home,
Our perception is naught but a blur;
Too small and foolish to call our own.

As such, we find ways to make every moment last.
We destroy the planet we live on,
Devise ways to destroy ourselves,
And we always have someone to blame it on.

These actions can only last us so long.
As we uncover this truth and take it to heart,
Those moments become days, months, and years.
Soon, our collective lives finally start.

That’s when our existence becomes more than a tick.
We begin to make a mark on our home.
Our perception becomes clear, our purpose found,
And then we’ll have an eternity of our own.

Student At Night

My fingers ripping at the keys, turning,
dancing across their unblemished contacts.
My ideas fold themselves like tesseracts,
imbued with haste and an unbearable yearning.

Every strike at the keys reveals more still,
Fleeting sparks that would terminate otherwise.
These flickers fade right before my eyes,
But not before my mind has had its fill.

It expounds these ideas, bringing out the best,
Sifting with a speed matched only by light.
Following that I filter till it’s just right,
Then I put the product together…and rest.

The Lustrous Sky

This one was meant to be a standalone story, unlike much of my recent work.

Heavenly bodies, vivid as can be
Light my way as I wander through this town.
Filled with people presenting a shared frown,
Casting a shadow on all that you see.

Such a dive is the one place free from strife,
The one maze of buildings I can call home.
A far cry from the tension and sea foam
Which held the most violent time of my life.

The sky and this town? Polar opposites.
The first shows a vast ocean of bright stars,
While the second boasts people and cars.
In comparison, this small town is the pits.

Despite this downside, I remain steadfast.
Thinking back, this gloomy city is just fine,
In fact, it’s the only thing I can call mine.
The only way I can escape my past.

As I gaze once more at the lustrous sky,
I think about what my future will bring.
I will still love this town to which I cling
And love the sky above it ‘til I die.

End of the Road

What is the purpose, if it remains chemical?
Why allow the ideal and not allow nature?
Who is the counterpart, the catalyst to that future?
When will I stop asking that which keeps me cynical?

Ignorance isn’t bliss, it’s a cultural plague.
But even knowing the answers does nothing for experience.
To my credit, of the concept I’ve made sense.
Naivete, however, will ensure it remains vague.

The Epiphany

Two visitors walked onto the tired, battered plains.
With every step they took, new life sprang to meet them.
The old armies couldn’t determine where this life would stem,
Their war of five years had buried their old lives’ remains.

Awestruck, the armies approached the duo with haste.
“From where does that greenery come forth?
We haven’t seen it for ages, neither south nor north.
How do you summon it with no fault, no waste?”

The duo replied with glee, “Look inside, you’ll find
the source you seek, rest assured.” Silence.
The armies had been fighting for eons, hence
Their judgment was clouded; chaos beset their mind.

The introspection that followed was immediate and complete.
Soldiers in every corner of the battlefield found the source.
Life radiated from them, now as a matter of course;
They had found the inner peace of which they were now replete.

The armies united to give the visitors thanks.
“We did nothing, your answers were always with you.
All you needed was to find that which eluded you.”
They agreed, and dismantled their weapons and tanks.

“What we will ask of you,” said the two,
“Is that you embrace this epiphany and do not hide it from the world.”
The armies had no issues, their hate was unfurled.
Those boundaries now scattered, they know what they must do.

An Artist’s Lesson

Wrist locked, index bent, middle as the guide.
A wooden conduit rests between them, active,
Imbued with ideas both appealing and unattractive,
Upon which the user has to carefully decide.

Given life, the conduit dances about the page!
The decision takes form with visible results.
With the stream of consciousness the user consults,
Assuring the idea is apparent to any age.

Once the deed is done, the user finally rests.
With this comes the realization that progress never stops.
The future brings with it a plethora of caltrops,
However, they are but minor setbacks, mere tests.

It should be made clear nothing can stop you.
Like the user, you too have access to tools,
Ones that separate you from the wave of fools
Who would deny that there are some things you can’t do.


Years have passed, the fighting and strife is over.
Scars of the war show on the land, somber.
The imprints of every last soldier, every bomber,
Display the aftermath thousands of times over.

These remains aren’t all that’s left, in fact,
Certain relentless essences linger.
They rise with force, and like a bee’s stinger,
Ravage the land while leaving it intact.

Denizens do their best to retort, to fight back.
They fall, at rates previously unheard of.
They long for a sign, perhaps a pure dove,
Any hope not to recall skills they now lack.

Essences everywhere retreat, for what cause?
The populace is left puzzled, alas,
They feel their threat has not simply gone past.
Those fears have become their universal laws.

Full Speed Ahead

The world fuels my thoughts like warmth to a storm,
Mental overflow has just become the norm.
Only now have I bailed out my fleet,
Giving it buoyancy, enough to retreat.

But behind it was my enemy: fixation.
It stared us down, I threatened abdication.
Then, a revelation! I ordered "About face!
We are to march into the storm, post-haste!"

Fixation would not have my men this day,
For I have forbid myself to go astray.
Through the storm to the promised land we sail,
May our perseverance and valor always prevail!

A Most Curious Concept

Understanding love is a Sisyphean task.
I’ll inch toward the root, then logic blocks the way,
And circumventing with emotion tends to lead me astray,
As if the phenomenon had been concealed by the darkest mask.

For years I’ve pondered love’s properties, its boundaries,
What about it compelled me to transform.
When it possessed me I’d break my every norm,
Giving me new shape, like I came from the finest foundries.

However close I was, the logic eluded me.
Reconciliation with my thoughts was absurd.
My mind had trouble manifesting a word,
Or even a phrase to describe an emotion this free.

Now I see that in love, the mind has little place.
I should use it chiefly for rational decision,
But allow the heart to govern emotional precision,
And only then will I comprehend its grace.


How to define a moment? An eternity?

Are you bound by it?
Or does it propel you forward?

Do you think you can stop it?
Or does its inevitability defeat you?

How to define distance? Proximity?

Can you feel the same no matter how far?
Or will your emotions stretch and eventually break?

Are you enclosed by the boundaries set upon you?
Or do you force yourself past them, moving forward?

Are you one who basks in brevity?
Or ensures your being's longevity?