"fundamentals" poems
I caught myself
daydreaming
of you
again.
Your lips
burning holes
in my throat.
"Is this okay?"
Yes.
It is.
I shake my head
Once,
Twice,
to get you out.
math
focus on math
But ******
you're better
than math.
Aug 25, 2014
Aug 25, 2014 at 7:05 PM UTC
The fundamentals of simplicity is not fathomed
Entangled in the barbed wires of complexities
Simple words sing no more to the yearning ears
Heavy laden words and tedious conversations
Gnawing away at the precious moments of life
Disparity is making the divide in humanity
Thoughts no more in one’s control, all indoctrinated
Confusion and rage seems to be the new found ‘normal’
Wonder why simplicity is consigned to such a fate
Let there be a new dawn of realization, to simply live
Breathe in the fresh era of clarity, with no malice
Simplicity, I pray to thee, turn your gaze towards humanity
Jul 6, 2014
Jul 6, 2014 at 9:42 AM UTC
They say a dog chooses it’s Master
and i believe a submissive does too.
Because just moments within meeting him,
i swear I already knew.
Set aside any criteria
and any particular credentials.
That something you can’t quite put your finger on,
Is one of my fundamentals.
I let him look inside my soul,
i show him I’m a dreamer.
Already he’s controlling me
and has altered my demeanour.
My logic screams inside me NO!
-Don’t sell your soul to the devil.
But my senses scream inside me YES...
“In his presence you will revel! “
The more we talk, the more I feared
as he changed my personality.
Yet further i delve into his aura,
although anticipating fatality.
Throwing caution to the wind,
i ignored my logic mind,
Ready to give him all of me,
til he suddenly declined.
Confusion strikes, I feel a loss.
Not knowing what I’ve done.
He tells me you’re not serious
and only seeking bedroom fun.
I don’t know how to prove myself,
wondering if this is just a test.
One day he’s here, the next he’s not.
I feel so... Dispossessed? !
I’d usually give up once rejected
but I know I must persist.
My inner sub is telling me
she needs him to exist.
You see jus moments within meeting him,
something was oh so very prominent.
I’m sure he doesn’t know it yet,
but he’s destined to be my
DOMINANT.
Jul 18, 2016
Jul 18, 2016 at 1:42 PM UTC
My god is love
Your god is God
I know it sounds odd
I wish to be cod
That swim through your veins
Until I go insane
Invading your mind
So I may know your kind
I have to tip my hat
When you say the world is flat
And I shift into a stiffer constitution
When you say you don't believe in evolution
My love is strictly fundamental
Our differences infinitesimal
I cannot deny
This temptation inside
This inflation of mine
I want to walk with you like Jesus
If in that moment you could freeze us
I'd believe forever
Through any endeavor
That two gods were merged
And true odds were purged
My life would be surged
Into perfection
By a reception
Love is a fabled fraud on the scene
Until I find a god in the machine
You heretically hide in between
Fields of green and wet dreams
Your smile takes me there
To realize we're no pair
So I become Cthulhu
In order to fool you
When you're the giant squid
And I'm just a kid
If I want to be caught in your tendrils
I'll have to work on my fundamentals
I dream of Athena
After you make Cupid look stupid
While holding a noose
With the power of Zeus
But I still want more
To hammer like Thor
Yet after all my plotting
I'm still frozen like Skadi
When I face a titanic task
I wear a panicked mask
Obtaining a reluctant martyr's luck
When my emotions run hot as ****
I face the wrath of god
Inside your cattle ****
So I wait like the Buddha
Wishing I never knew ya
Nov 14, 2017
Nov 14, 2017 at 5:09 AM UTC
Fought
One, Twenty-two skidoo.
Cantankerous mad filamous
She,
That of her,
Me.
Piñata, stretched balloon
Over my big fleshy
******
Tea and cakes,
Painted my nails
Painted my lips
Like candy.
Gold trinkets,
Pour like mercury out of my ear.
Ouch! I cried
My feet in hot sandy
Dreams.
Flying peacocks tickle
My *****
Oranges roll on chalk board tables
Over stale rye bread.
***** dribbles out like mucus
And a runny nose.
Toilet paper and rusty water.
********** on you.
Stocking lover.
Fetish cover.
Woman pusher.
Mellifluous ****
Look at my skin.
Pink, beige, peach, red
Porous, greasy, bacteria ridden hide.
**** me like seppuku,
Smother, suffocate me with
Red jelly jam.
Lubricate your finger with black
Cancerous ash.
Stick it in my naval,
Unravel my umbilical cord
Like so many filaments of my heart.
Tear your flesh
You auto *********
Rip your liver
And force feed it
Corn and maize
Hay and grass
Emory my nails against
Red barn walls
Until bare skin fundamentals
Kisses with salty lips
Inflame my ravishing
Pig stomach.
Kick my shin you
Everything,
Wake up you stupid
*****
Void can be blue skies,
Oceans call for suicide.
Kiss me with delight,
Raspberries tattooed
In my *****
Strawberry cream
Vanilla, milk,
Ponderous infinity,
Cotton, dough
Honey and sage.
Caustic gastric
You and not me.
Feel my legs,
Touch my thighs,
Lick my lips,
Give me anything
Not direct.
Tie me up in complexities.
**** my head up.
Put me in a dream,
Make me happy.
Blair Butterfield 2004
Jan 11, 2010
Jan 11, 2010 at 7:09 AM UTC
Having read both cell biology & molecular biology in Bachelor's,
This subject seems a lot different when studying it in the Master's.
But I just can't abdicate & concede this point in my master's degree at all,
I'll study creating poems about every major topic to let poetry happen.
That way it'll be easier to revise,
Both poetically and theoretically.
Dec 14, 2015
Dec 14, 2015 at 8:54 AM UTC
There once was a guy named Marx
Who thought the bourgeosie were a bunch of old farts
He proposed a solution
Socialist revolution!
But when will it happen? Don't ask!
Russia's first ****** was Lenin
His blueprint for Russia was telling
Although his hairline receded
He finally succeded!
By stopping those Whites from rebelling
Oh what a poor sap was Engels
He built communism from its fundamentals
He helped write the book
Yet we gave him the hook
Marx, the chorus, and he, the instrumental
Oct 5, 2015
Oct 5, 2015 at 3:40 PM UTC
it's hard to crack a
coconut while
sitting under the
water;
in order to understand
the fundamentals of a
broken heart
you've got to know the
secrets of the soul
wait.
99% of human beings
are enchanted
and to lick the moon
you don't always have to
travel to mars.
Now wait.
Sep 2, 2013
Sep 2, 2013 at 5:49 PM UTC
I'm reading a step-by-step manual on
how to love yourself again.
'Cause although fundamentals may be philosophy,
Rewiring is all physics baby.
We all need a reason to escape gravity
and plunge ourselves out of orbit.
Self-sacrifice isn't worth ****
if you're wired for it.
To stand on the edge of a tall building and
think of jumping.
Inertia and hysteria.
The magnetic pull of your body to the ground.
To return back to dust.
Loving myself is
a little bit like that.
Jan 24, 2019
Jan 24, 2019 at 6:45 PM UTC
the girl has her face removed
and replaced with a plastic advertisement
for bubble gum
chew on my head she says
with a slick smile
and as she fades down an alley
she is whistling an old
Broadway showtunes
she is reinventing herself from
inside a box of cereal
trips are for hippies
there are gypsy's hanging round her door
selling tickets to the dinner theatre
of her self inflicted dreams
the actors are picketing out front
for better lines
she took the best ones and rewrote them
to resemble the life and times
of sherlock holmes
she disrobes her masked face
and with a cautious shy smile
envelops him with her presence
her planned nature crafted to perfection
without second thought
without hesitation eats him alive from the inside
still hungry she mingles in the crowd
so she can steal their french fries
and **** on their soda's
she's celebrated
and cheered as she mounts the stage
her left handed shuffling fingers
grasping the fundamentals of her mind
but a weak grip on reality's slippery skin
leads one the rabbit hole
to delusions publicly lived
standing in the worlds shadow
talking to yourself
laugh louder than the one next to you
lest they think you weak minded
and the small sounds at your ear
is your free will escaping
she lay down at the end of her day
and with Aesop's fables wished herself
away from this
dinner theatre of the mad
Oct 30, 2013
Oct 30, 2013 at 5:11 AM UTC
***Fundamentals of madness
wraps the skin around my brain
miter'd head splits wide open,
like blue skies wanting to thunder
dark heart leapt out from under
blinded burnish'd eyes
world looks annihilated
from the validity of upside down
birds have severed vocal chords,
butterflies shed their wings
there's no dance left, aside from
ghost steps of a psychotic menacing waltz
& one dark raven hauntingly swaying***
Jan 9, 2014
Jan 9, 2014 at 6:23 PM UTC
for KA
There is something in this for both of us. We have chemistry, let's be lab partners. Help me with problems like which would make a better poem: a pandemic, a wolverine, or a broken heart? You know I only chose you because you enjoy my fondling your blond *** as you lean over the Bunsen burner, because we have flammable *** on the periodic table, but this is more serious than calculations or ******* As a poet, I need to access the deeper moaning of reality, but you are a screamer, not a moaner. Let's experiment anyhow. Lift that skirt and let's explore something elemental, make a new molecule, feel the reaction. Help me probe the fundamentals of creation and I may love you, though surely not enough, as we are both non-valent. Even though we may never bond, we are in this together, partner. Lift your beaker to my lips. Outcomes are never certain.
Mar 25, 2017
Mar 25, 2017 at 6:22 AM UTC
Tell me how,
One person can divide into
Three perfectly psychotic sentiments
While still appearing to be whole
Tell me how
Multiplying your kindness only
Creates a rift between myself and patience
And ends with nights of contemplation followed by tumultuous
Back-and-forths with imaginary numbers
For I am no mathematician
I cannot find a solution to every concrete problem
I do not bother with equations or substitutes
I only skim the symbol, rewrite questions and leave the answers hanging in the air
Tell me why,
Subtracting victims from my life
Only added a murderous sentiment
To every repeating decimal that couldn’t find its’ place
Tell me why,
The quadratic formula is emblazoned in my memory
But everyone keeps throwing opposites at me
So forgetting whether to add or to subtract becomes hazy
And the square root gets suspended until next class, so the
Four drops off the plane, two goes insane, and
Letters lose their fictitious meanings
For I am no mathematician
Archimedes is finding the constant of my triangular coffin
While Newton is rolling in his gravity
Carl Gauss is busy laughing his *** off with fundamentals in his eyes and
Descartes keeps whispering incoherent Latin, migraines sprinting towards me
As if in a race
So don’t ask me
Whether or not you should divide by zero
Or whether it requires sine, cosine, or a tangent
My logic will not tell you anything you want to hear
I am through trying to piece together this imaginary puzzle
And I’ve had enough of playing this never-ending game
Because I’ve been through two continents, and 4 different states
And I still don’t know the meaning of my name.
For I am no mathematician
The only pie charts I am fond of,
have to do with sugar and preheating an oven to 450 degrees
And with every cubic centimeter
I start thinking of cubes of cheddar cheese
For I am no mathematician
I can’t graph a simple line
I don’t understand the dimensions of the polygon shown above
And I’m tired of wasting precious time
Oct 2, 2015
Oct 2, 2015 at 6:15 PM UTC
Life’s a trip aint it?
Cause I can see myself there.
In the courtside of movement with my daughter
Teaching her the fundamentals to this foreplay break form we call top rocking
See, cause we all started while still in the fetus of knowledge,
dance was our way out
far sighted to the violence was most important
My neighbors enriched themselves a devil’s deal with other advocates
Sold their souls to hate,
Gun play, drugs, **** and discriminate……tion.
Since that first get down on my auntie’s wooden floors,
Or since seeing the smooth criminal himself steal the encore,
I became the Xerox copy,
mirroring my master like a parrot,
I studied more and observed a new culture.
Not even knowing this family was my narrative teen story.
****
I devoured every second.
Danced till my body couldn’t stand it.
I danced in the light and were steps away from my own shadows.
Sometimes the shadows were heavy
a filament that needs to be observed and cleansed--- go figure huh
A self-judgment clinging to aura.
A child crying who felt unloved.
A beings dependent on promises from Ones outside self.
Suddenly, light shines and the dancer feels the power--
A breath that aligns inside grace.
A moment where ones heart expands with love.
A moment where a dancer meets melody
Hip hip is a masterpiece,
hip-hop is you, me, him and her, and because of this masterpiece is a dancer inside of me.
His movements created mists around his company,
I didn't need to tell hip-hop I loved her.
I gave her all my love with this dance.
Oct 3, 2018
Oct 3, 2018 at 3:38 PM UTC
ride into the floorboards
on the backs of people
you once trusted
even fooling for a second
the cleverly disguised devout
why cleverly hide yr God?
he hangs beneath me
from the cages of
shopping carts
he who would give up his eyes
until they turn to milky white
crescent moons that leak thick
********* on anything
that ever disturbed
yr morning walk
the devout,
who would give up their eyes
for a *******
Michael Sinclaire/Mary Fahey. March 2013.
Apr 2, 2013
Apr 2, 2013 at 11:05 PM UTC
running away
strengthens my legs.
and so does planting
my feet firmly on the ground
after a fresh lie—
trade the volleyball practice
for physics textbooks
and i grow exponentially
happier.
grow exponentially freer,
i guess somewhere along the line
i decided
i preferred calculations
To spiking *****
is all
really, i guess the court
instilled in me a queer
fear, that of
bears clawing shut a cage,
i prisoner, appeaser,
so I played.
but the longer I stayed
The more i prayed,
prayers of numbers,
velocities, angles,
and realized that
maybe the running
was more a way to measure
my footsteps
than to play less
a game.
Jan 8, 2015
Jan 8, 2015 at 8:47 AM UTC
The underbelly of the beast
Exposed
Is just more context
Tucked away
In looser corners of a mind
Void of lilac sunsets and
Airport poetry
And your belly
Hollowed out through the hips
By all those generic lovers
Doesn’t need more fundamentals
Only acid dreams of desert symmetry
Oct 19, 2018
Oct 19, 2018 at 4:06 AM UTC
These words.
These seemingly futile words.
They're all I have.
These consonants and vowels
taking up space
in your full-capacity life.
It's all I can do.
All of my letters combined
are battling all of these
busy days that have you in
a choke-hold.
I'm doing this.
Because it's all I want to do.
To give you all of me.
Everything I am.
Everything I've ever been.
Everything I can be.
In the only way that I know how.
But, ****
You have other things to do
than listen to some
silly little words.
Oct 1, 2012
Oct 1, 2012 at 8:56 PM UTC
I know you people dont have the heart for it
Drawing pictures treat it like my art board
They killin people in the streets ain't your heart sore
It should make the fluids from your eyes pour
Knowing that Justice is no longer served, anymore
Like a bad serve we need to go back to the fundamentals
Protecting lives used to be simple
We need to demonstrate change with action
These lyrics are the voice like a closed caption
Speaking of the journey for every closed casket
They say dream big then make it happen
The losers never succeed cause they never practice
I'm scholar, baller, making money so when I sit I can be a little bit more taller
As I pop my collar and call the shots like ya farther
But then again, I'm just dreaming
Jul 27, 2015
Jul 27, 2015 at 1:56 PM UTC
Arms are weak and withered,
and the strings won't heed his shaking hands.
Pain's his only feeling, and that can't convey
what his gasping heart hungers to say
About her smile.. about her eyes,..
about her gasping breaths so frail and grey.
**The symphony has begun
Playing mellow tunes
Beckoning the arrival of death
At the expense of him.
But his strings won't let him
Change the way the music is going,
His clammy hands trembling,
Shaking,
Breaking.
(He wore his heart on his hands.)
All he can do is watch
And listen
As the music drifts,
Deeper, slower...
Until her heart
Stops.**
Arms are weak and withered, holding
cards upon the table. Folding
never was his strong suit anyway.
He waits a while in silence, knowing
her pain is no nearer to slowing.
Growing screams beckon plugs to pull away.
He doesn't know what's left to play,
but his withered fingers seem to know the way.
She listens as the melody starts,
and falters as she closes her eyes.
Arms are withered weary,
as the music slowly dies.
**But as the silence comes around,
It revitalizes an old strength.
Calling upon the fundamentals of
An art once forgotten,
But its tremors will now resonate.**
Tremors mark his trembling hands,
and the music is April, alive and new.
The monotone flat-line droning on
is in metronome time like when they were young,
and he matches her tempo, like they used to do.
He plays her life, her laugh, her smile...
The music stops, and after a while
the day is through. And he thinks to himself...
*Tonight is over... and there's the dawn...
But it marks the start of a day...
without you...*
Jul 10, 2015
Jul 10, 2015 at 1:09 AM UTC
To understand the fundamentals of a broken heart
you will have to break your heart
I don't mean merely drop it
I mean to have it stolen away,
as you gasp for your possibly last few breaths
believing that without your heart
without him
you cannot possibly go on.
First
You will have to lose the perfect person,
and forget him.
Forget about his adorable smile
and warm arms
and soft kisses
and beautiful brown eyes
and querky fashion sense.
Got that out of your mind?
Good, on to step 2.
Second you will have to forget about the future and past
all together too
you'll have to forget the promise to take you somewhere exotic
after your high school year
you'll have to forget that night you spent in his car
there was no *** just sitting in the back seat
listening to comfy music
talking
you'll have to forget the way he made you shy
shy to where you turned your head when he tried to kiss you
and you would stumble over your words shy
and that new feeling like it's your first love...
Forget that yet?
No? I'll give you some time.
People say "Time heals all wounds"
how? It's been 2 months
my heart still twists
and the air evades my lungs
and it all happens because of you...
forgot it? Good.
Finally ask yourself why.
Why did you let him in?
Why were you so stupid to pull your walls down
after two weeks.
Why did you fall without a parachute?
Why did you fall inlove with someone 21
when you yourself..
are only 16.
After you've finished forgetting,
go out and smile and pretend you are not missing a piece of yourself
pretend your heart is still whole
and your smile is genuin..
and just forget
forget like I have...
Aug 15, 2013
Aug 15, 2013 at 11:42 AM UTC
If I could send
one message
back through time,
I wouldn’t write to beg
words off a writer
I admire –
be it Dante or Blake,
Yeats or Cummings –
and I wouldn’t warn away
the gazes of a to-be
lost love
or push the glad
hands of not-yet
abandoned friends.
I would write
to my yesterday self,
who lazily left
dishes for today’s
me to do,
and I’d rightly tell him:
“Please, reconsider
the sink-
me urge to shirk
was.
“These are citrus-
scented suds,
and if you let them,
they’ll tickle
a memory of 3
too-old oranges
forgotten to bother
the bottom of a wicker bowl,
which in turn
will return you to rethink
the how of when
a younger you
grew 5
times in those 10
years before the death,
and then
you stopped caring for the 20
since.”
It’s news of the wee,
menial
and non-consequential
tasks that gives
all of these me’s pleasure
now.
Nov 13, 2010
Nov 13, 2010 at 6:42 AM UTC
As a resident of hope village be very thankful -
If for breakfast you have just a cup of water,
Say a big prayer to Baba and be very grateful.
Know ye that someday things will get better!
When stock in Hope Village, be very grateful!
I once lived there and boy, life wasn't so easy,
I remember how I would look so very sorrowful,
Using a bowl of water to shave, that's crazy!
Especially when I used old T-shirt as towel,
And rotated an umbrella as part of my roofing
life was hard but hope was on another level,
I knew that answer to my prayers was coming.
Despite the fact that I lived in abject poverty-
Hope made my condition seemed less pathetic -
All my situation was under God's own authority,
And my goals and objectives were authentic.
Never give up, hardship is only a transit camp.
One day your rescue Angel will come souring,
With solutions illuminated with a bright lamp-
Lights you'll always need as you go hustling!
To the residents of Hope village, never despair-
If wind of change is yet to blow in your direction,
Stay strong Hope village, real rescue is in the air,
It surely will if the Almighty is your connection.
I see you are a resilient bunch, so be very strong!
Though trials will come, hold on and be resolute,
Blessing for those with deep hope never goes wrong,
From a veteran of the movement, I say a big salute!
I pray you will keep to the fundamentals of hustle -
Know that on that very special day of God's reckoning,
Your stars will dance to success' beat, not struggle,
And the village's talking drums will echo your blessing.
Everyone far and near will know reward time has come.
People of hope village, come get your reward for courage,
Say goodbye to yesterday and say to tomorrow, welcome!
Soon, your last sight of the mango trees in your village-
Will be a breathtaking thirty five thousand feet far below.
As the white magic bird climbs hosting your dusty heels,
Sad faces will say bye and friendly faces will say hello.
There you'll know how the answers to your prayers feels!
Someday you will return as a great hero to your village,
To lament on the audacity of hope and your very own story -
With motivational messages to give everyone some courage,
Poverty will no longer be the main topic, it'll be history !
#Vanguard-poetry23
twitter @ivanclappers
Jan 15, 2018
Jan 15, 2018 at 11:04 PM UTC