"ionic" poems
Metallic-, ionic-, covalent bonds.
Persisting still proving, able to break.
The forces assured, the pressures endured,
the attraction unequal, results left uncured.
Surely there exits an unbreakable bond,
created by a wand from a paranormal pond.
A connection not so rare, sharing DNA in our hair.
A bond assuring trust, selflessness and care.
Not even death, can break a bond that strong
and this may seem unfair, science points to wrong
but this is no illusion, my doubts are less than low
I do not have to prove, what I already know.
Its far beyond a feeling, description left unknown.
This bond is right beside me, never am I alone.
I do not need an idol, I do not need a god.
Impossible to forge a key, it's not that type of lock.
My brother is my hero, my brother is my rock.
Jun 9, 2013
Jun 9, 2013 at 12:12 PM UTC
They're huddled 'round their periodic lunch tables,
square and socially pyramidal,
and I'm at the bottom.
But they're just fluorine factions,
bullies at heart trying to steal my e-lectricity
with their negativity.
Because I'm light,
Ultra-violet violence to the eyes,
Magnesium burning.
Anti-matter meets matter.
And that catalytic, cataclysmic energy is attractive.
And they see me. They see, see, see,
But I've got too many Cs on this side of my false, metallic personality.
I'd better balance myself
Or I'm not getting a good reaction.
Classic ionic, ironic idiocy.
I've bonded with you,
just compounding the issues.
'Cause you're a complete acetate without a solution:
now all I've got are problems.
Dot Diagrams are dotted lines separating you from me,
because over the years what was a bond
became a partially negative charge
against me.
I was your oxygen, and you were carbon
-ated, bubbly and explosive.
We would Combust.
But now all's left but to see, oh, two
of your new girlfriends flanking your sides,
'cause we've decomposed, split, gone off to better things.
Monatomic monotones lace my speech,
and I'm pining for something to complete this emp-d shell
that is myself.
'Cause I miss what we had.
We had chemistry.
Mar 9, 2013
Mar 9, 2013 at 5:52 PM UTC
i noticed that
i'm nothing like a
covalent bond.
they share;
i can't seem to do that
with anything.
i'm more of an
ionic bond.
they gain and lose electrons...
just like me.
except,
i don't gain and lose electrons.
i gain and (mostly) lose friends and
other relationships and
i know the reason why:
because i'm nothing
like a covalent bond.
i can't share my friends
and it's becoming a problem
for not just them
but for myself too.
i become selfish and
possessive and
i always wondered why
people would leave me and
yet i'm the one who
pushed them out of
my electron cloud.
May 22, 2013
May 22, 2013 at 8:21 AM UTC
“where time is the fly and age the fisher of men”
<>
*”until I fell forward
into fall where time is
the fly and age the fisher
of men, then when winter
begins all will be forgotten,
where time is the fly and
age the fisher of men”*
excerpt from “The Fall” by Rick Richardson
<>
that words from a different ionic state, jump as embodied ions from screen to the throat, evicting a guttural current of exclamation, you believe even with the half-heartedly palpitations from remainder of my damaged pumping heart, that these words were always intended, just for me…
boy and old man coexist, the pottage of memories stirred,
and the time is fly, and I drown in the miracle of greenest grass of
Yankee Stadium at age eight,
oasis, heaven, a child reborn in a sea of Bronx concrete,
and the swallowing up of my boyhood is forever marked henceforth, the hook has caught me, and I am of the age
once and forever
not a fisherman, but a fisher of men’s souls,
mine own is my best bait,
hooked line and sinker, and
wisdom and words
elude and delude always,
like summer is perpetual and aging a construct,
time does not fly, but slowly laps and waves
eroding our myths and ourselves upon a continuum with
no ends
~postscript~
<>
*yet I believe,
in miracles of
fish and loaves,
and that our individual continuums
will exist beyond the artifice of constraints
of
mortal time and that poems are
the forever chemicals within
our
bloodstreams,
even when our blood no longer spills*
yet I believe!
Sep 6, 2023
Sep 6, 2023 at 7:57 AM UTC
Atoms circulate between the nuclei of touch
Schrodinger’s laws exposing deceit and truth
Lamenting in the protons, electrons, and neutrons
Encircling the senses between the eyes and fingers
Particles flow between the elements of breathing
Of soul, of emotion, and memories worn thin
In terminal velocities of thought and contemplation
Barriers of consciousness and reality
Molecules of intentions, intricate and delicate
Bound together by ionic twists of fate
And strained into bent bonds of insecurity
Providing violent reactions of regrets
Ions, formed in this union, complicate the formula
Indifferent to the imbalance between the sighs
Requiring the impact, to leave a free electron of motive
Resulting in a positive change of heart and mind
© 2014
Feb 4, 2015
Feb 4, 2015 at 5:39 AM UTC
Around me architectural mastery:
sycamores, embankments, enduring ionic pillars.
I round a walkway bordered by trees,
enamel thawing, gliding off their low leaves.
Beneath the late-May’s pounding sun,
through the glittered trees’ reaches,
a gazebo crackles into sight.
Children in their prime, sunbathers, a wistful portraitist
encircle it carelessly:
a leisured chimney; the billows of life.
The foliage escapes into the river,
purplish, palpitating, cyclic creases
receive the dewy notes.
Kayaks licking acacia-gum-edged
ripples sputter and slip
through reverberations
of leveled white-water terraces.
Blackcurrants in clotted cream
slide on the plush lips of a young passerby.
The 8 above a doorway
dances motionless, silent in my periphery;
“Nicolas Cage just sold the spot”
pops from unknown lungs
inside the Circus crowd.
Unacknowledged, half-proud
hands built the Roman baths
alone, closed-in by such grace,
forgotten, then as now.
I wander these ancestral lanes
more or less alone, the same.
Jul 4, 2012
Jul 4, 2012 at 7:55 AM UTC
Wizards, witches, and warlocks
Charge nurses really,
Isn't that ionic
And yes I really do think
Much more intelligentsia than wet nurses
But everything has a time and place
Expressionless Gene
Wilder
And warlords destroy beauty and intelligentsia chasing a lost or stolen dream
Sep 16, 2014
Sep 16, 2014 at 1:04 PM UTC
I am attracted to you
Like an electron to a proton
Together we form an ionic bond
Though we are opposite charged ions
I am drawn towards you
Our love is unique as an orbital
For only two electrons can fill this space
As my love for you increases
My energy level rises
I am in this excited state
Increasing the tendency to form a chemical bond
I was an element
It took you to make me a compound substance
Falling in love with you is a chemical reaction
Which cause my love for you to grow
Ours is an exothermic love
Each for giving off love not just absorbing it
Sometimes you do something especially nice
Which speeds up the chemical process
Like a catalyst in my increasing love for you
I realise we have our inhibition periods
And sometimes I am selfish enough
To be an endothermic reaction
Only absorbing your love
The feeling I have for you is so intense
It cannot be measured in kilojoules
Often I have to make a qualitative elementary analysis
To understand and love you more
But I don't expect to know your empirical formula
You are too complex a person for that
When you are gone
I am a noble gas
An inert substance
When I am without you
The world seems still
And I am at equilibrium
Feb 24, 2015
Feb 24, 2015 at 1:51 AM UTC
capsized beating purple algorithm
for a heart,
cross-nit aspirations
still taste dirt on my teeth,
the mission creep of eager eyed poets,
carry a briefcase with my levi's --
close cut cigarette encounters,
all brick shantytown of a friendship
them lovelies run on endless,
it's starting to get cold outside.
restless sprites circle our *****
exhaling greek mythopoeics
every sure footed step.
alcoholism echoes in my skin
a depth charge i cannot cut out,
we all have broken thoughts here,
all have blind spots in our stomachs,
they read like a preacher's insecurities:
burly things we warm ourselves with,
the winters sting bitter.
something is wrong with me,
sinkhole of ambition and honey kisses,
all the great thinkers **** themselves,
it's the staunch lack of spotlight,
way the earth drips lackadaisical-like
we just call it a perfect orbit.
shake my hand and feel a goldilocks pulse
anemic shards of a cornered animal,
we cut right
to the bone
here, or so we tell ourselves.
and love is always the answer?
that sure footed toothy angel
so beautiful, it couldn't just be our
churlish blood,
frothing and calming,
frothing and calming,
electrons rise and fall to create light,
they still circle an untapped atrocity
perfectly,
like this, like it must be
god
or something close. something
stopping them from running, free
from bonds ionic or otherwise,
bare feet
beating the pavement until there are
no more stones to throw.
firstborns of the universe,
each star is a setting sun,
blinks staggered,
still grew us up quicker than most,
there is no aphrodisiac like heliocentrism.
them bones cut good
doped up on oxytocin,
those empty thoughts still rattling,
dig sharp -- then nice and numb.
and we cutthroat and glossy,
sharper than ever.
walk outside
smoke a cigarette
know how much you love her,
look at the stars --
it's ******* beautiful isn't it
Oct 14, 2014
Oct 14, 2014 at 7:57 PM UTC
Sings a small boy whose hair is tousled by the wind,
As too the folds of his mother’s peplos and the robes of clouds,
When Greece gathers in silence like the stillness for a deposed crown,
And all Athens around, the song of eiresione for firstfruits of Autumn,
Singing boys with the olive branches of colored wool and garlanded gourds,
A fall-bird to wander the Ionic sky, foretelling of new sunrise.
How that joyful ancient voice still haunts the songbird of sunset.
Apr 2, 2023
Apr 2, 2023 at 11:21 PM UTC
(*My heart is a stone
encased in ice age glacier
tucked away in the nuclear bunker
surrounded by the Great Wall
if the Mongolians can't get to it
what chance have you?
Let's say you do manage to Mission Impossible reach it
Let's say you somehow Ocean's One steal it
Let's say you also The Bank Job keep it
How are you gonna get through that ice?
It's so cold Russians call it the nuclear winter
It's so cold Kobe rubs it before the game-winning shot
It's so cold Lucifer uses it as a cooler
It's so cold Ice Queen is now the Ice Princess*)
Yet
the trembling rosy lips dissolve the very bond
into silly little ice crystals and snowflakes
resonate so passionately with the frequency
of my stoic heartbeat
the dancing electrons revolted against
ionic-bonds and hydrogen-bonds
the frenzied molecules traded their neighbors
for love, traded themselves for furor
traded ice for fire
traded stone for flesh
and you, traded I for me
hanging ever so desperately on your
red trembling lips
consumed mercilessly
like the very last cigarette
knowing the consequence of letting go:
like ash the wind shall carry me away
a thousand burning ambers flying into the night
like the fireflies on their last journey
I shall melt quietly into darkness
reminiscing about a block of ice.
Jun 13, 2010
Jun 13, 2010 at 11:57 PM UTC
My brand new ionic hairbrush is the best invention ever!
Who could ever imagine this incredible tool
could perform such amazing feats of magic!
My hair is so smooth, sleek and shiny
I truly feel like a superstar!
Honestly, If the inventor were here,
I would kiss him and drive him around
in my car!
Sep 28, 2018
Sep 28, 2018 at 3:01 PM UTC
Working your way out of ionic ******* can be
seriously interesting however, it can also be
lugubrious.
I was standing in the aisle at Bulk Barn.
low on neutrinos, I was looking to stock up
I like to sprinkle them on my cereal in the morning
I then made my way down the anti-photon aisle
if you like your coffee black and not sweet, as I do
this is almost as good as other alternatives
I did realize that
my electron supply was fine
but thought I'd get some anyway
just for the ion-y
I don't understand the economics of this transaction
but it is apparent the invisible hand does
When the clerk looked in my basket
I was waved through
Sep 5, 2018
Sep 5, 2018 at 7:56 PM UTC
As school comes to an end, I decide to
spend the summertime with my instrument.
I read music theory for two hours,
but my hands yearn for the touch of six strings.
Fingers position themselves to stroke bliss.
But my phone’s troubled with recurring rings.
**** it was mom telling me I have class!
I raced for my backpack, and I told her:
I will not slack. Papers grew so lonely
without their folder to cuddle them close.
I couldn’t care to organize them cause
usually, I’d lay in my seat repose.
Ionic bonds? What do they even mean?
And what the heck is “double replacement”?
Okay, I should start paying attention.
I grasp the pen. I notice the tension.
As soon as I write, my hands start to shake.
I start over. Now hands begin to ache.
What in the world is happening to me?
Two words: I scream. Head jerks, and my legs shake.
It has to be a dream. It has to be!
Don’t want to move, but I have to take notes.
Why are random words bursting out my throat?
I’ma be real. I need my mommy!
Class is over. I exclaim to mother:
my fingers refuse to stop tremoring.
And I’m getting these tics. What set it off?
First thing I do is reach for my guitar.
I can’t hold it. I can’t ******* grab it.
Eyes of terror stay written on my face.
The next day I was in a wheelchair.
I cannot look straight- straight up to the sky
or look in front and into people’s eyes.
My right-hand curves to the left. A tendon
sinks into my flesh, and my left fingers
cramp up from being intertwined like vines.
They are stiff. Hideous. These are not mine.
But it does get much better with some time.
I can walk again, talk again, and write.
But all good things come with downfalls, don’t they?
My brain disease will come at me with might.
And I refuse to give up on this fight.
There will be a time when I reach stage five.
And I know it won’t be a pretty sight.
I’m ready for what will happen to me.
Dearest guitar, please know you’re my heaven.
Why bother to fret? Cause’ when the time comes
I’ll see you again in a few seconds.
Jan 8, 2022
Jan 8, 2022 at 4:46 PM UTC
I am moving on.
I have my eyes set on the stars,
My mind landed on the moon and my heart exploring the planets.
It no longer hurts when they talk about you, neither does it stain when I see you...
I've moved on.
I'm not in search for a chemical equation to help me feel complete, I am not trying to find myself a covalent bond, an ionic or even metallic bond.
I realised I am like the noble elements,
Like Neon, Helium, Xenon and Argon I am complete without you...
I am the perfect balance.
I don't need you...
I'm happy,
I've moved on.
Apr 5, 2015
Apr 5, 2015 at 1:34 PM UTC
i think cavemen were beautiful
with their primitive actions to
sculpt bare rocks and minerals
into tools to reach out to hearts.
they had their own language,
like countries i've never been to
or tribes i wish to witness
because even the minimum
was pure and enough
to keep their thoughts racing,
to push them to feel life
through fingertips and dancing.
i think this earth used to be
beautiful, with gallons of
salt water surrounding
one entity, we were once
all connected before
we were able to take our
first gasp of oxygen,
before we could communicate
how the earth was not flat
and circulated to
let the light take over the
heavy and forget what
heat is during the
ice coverings for 90
shaded days.
i think we forgot how to
really let our blood
strengthen our bodies,
using complex chemicals
to ease reality because
we know we are wrong at times
and right when we can't turn
back centuries.
we breathe to taste our
own ignorance,
when really we should be
breathing to feel alive,
but the numbers don't
change and we tend to
only care for ourselves.
cavemen gave and gave and gave
until they couldn't breathe in the
light anymore and the energy
moved on to the next,
like how ionic bonds
result in a positive
or negative charge.
sometimes our structures
aren't so step by step,
but our feet can take over
for that.
it is our time to take over and
****** our ideas out for the taking,
but i'm nervous we won't make it.
i'm scared that everything we've known
will fall down to the mantle of our
beautiful planet because
my generation
was too worried
about the little
things.
Apr 5, 2011
Apr 5, 2011 at 6:30 PM UTC
i've always admired water,
its tendency to take the
path of least resistance,
gently eroding without
being openly abrasive.
and i've always admired
you, though our definition
of always seems to differ
and the [drip-drop] of
(water-clocks) has long
since gone out of style.
have you ever felt electric?
charged; ionic, or maybe
something not so particular;
that's the feeling of another
connection being made,
threads of elastic static
woven together on some
great unknown loom
somewhere -- or maybe
just by our own weary
fingers.
i digress, in that;
this isn't really about any
water, or electricity, or
some cosmic idea of how
we become connected, bound,
souls sewn with steel stitches.
i guess it's really just about
this one thought stuck
bouncing around like
a plectrum in a sound
[hole].
/i could carry your
heart, like other writers/
and you're the only one
who would appreciate it./
Dec 13, 2012
Dec 13, 2012 at 1:30 AM UTC
*Iridescent Charms & Atomic Raves,
Raptured Revelations In Her Bulletproof Grave,
Impassive Frequencies Of Her Reflections Engraved.
Ionic Ribbons Of Her Artistic Trance,
Neon Contrasts In Her Stellar Stance,
Starry-Eyed Rhapsody In Her Censored Glance,
Vaporized Fractals Draped In Her Past,
Crystallized Specters Sterilized To Last,
Perpetual Panic Triggering A Blast,
Sedated Phantasms In Her Paralyzed Voice,
Isolated Collisions & Distressed Noise,
Overrated Memoirs Of Her Tainted Reprise,
Liquid Shadows In Her Moonlit Dreams,
Theatrical Schemes To Her Grand Regime,
Enigmatic Queen Of Turbulent Screams,
Shipwrecked Effigy Resonating Duality,
Overtuned Spirits Illuminating Reality,
Metaphysical Anniversary Of Her Romantic Fatality.
- 04:28AM -*
Mar 15, 2017
Mar 15, 2017 at 7:03 PM UTC
6 sides
Latent enabler
Counterpoint to truth, amorphic
Dada to life
Callous Birth
Islands dripped in collagen
Mystic, effortless life
Tempests laden iota in tune
Riven
Licked flat, obtuse
Crescent stench
Pagan cells
Hazard the thought
Pick the Atlantic cherry
Reach further than comfort
Pushed & consumed
Spirited paste
Jesuit told in spheres
Lament interest, matted quill
Totem, Saxon tribe
Inflections of hearsay
And Swastikas on parade
Guilt of the blacksmith, undecided
The arms of tablets
Ashtrays & tropospheric light
Another page turned
Capsules filled with perfume
Loose skin lost in relics
Temporal lobe
Cautioned indignant
Pardon the prose
Sonnets dissolved in ethanol
Caricatures of the fleeting
Of our cities last broadcast
Absorbed by times gone
Glittered pestilence
Canceling subordinates, powdered Semtex
Soup of the sewer
Lift the butcher above your head
Nazca lines
Suborbital
Silk screen with *****
Horizontal qualm toward revulsion
Incursion
Calm, cued and cubed
Lab coats coated in pharmaceuticals
Base compound, ionic bond
Covalent CNS
Sympathetic vibration
Default to nature
To theorise movement
Agitate intolerance, turbulence
Beautiful thought
Calculate causality
Passenger of licked lips
Token to latex
Croft in ear, to taste
Unlaced tips, rings of halothane
Bliss
Intrigued with obscurity
Apr 16, 2014
Apr 16, 2014 at 1:33 PM UTC
absconding beneath the open skies
perhaps she was never accepted enough,
the hills sought her as an ionic bond
colonnades made a portend for her
as amber resin, to beseech
the seeming evidence she alone withheld
that infinity excludes capture.
Nov 3, 2012
Nov 3, 2012 at 2:24 PM UTC
sitting here in the cusp
of a greedy world
where each seeks something
only for own good,
i would rather have
a bouquet of goodies for
me and my folks
particularly as the new year begins,
i look back at the cosmic awareness
of knowledge seeking
ancient brahmins,
and get amazed at
the altruist spirit and
sense of renunciation, they
made a common daily practice,
that rang loud in chants
during elaborate rituals
of fire sacrifice
in ancient times.
one by one, putting an enormous collection of
offerings ; butter,variety
of sacred wood, flowers,herbs and grains
in to flames, with the accompaniment of
chants of benediction and good thoughts,
in unison, each one asserted in chaste Sanskrit:
"This is not for me"
"idem na mama"
with each offering.
the Gods could have any reason,
not to accept those offerings,
given away with purest of intensions,
that changed the ionic configuration
of the atmosphere, more beneficial to humans
by changing air, land and water, pure
and full of life force.
Jan 1, 2012
Jan 1, 2012 at 1:03 PM UTC
How many quantum events defined the result?
Sub-atomic, Ionic bonds breaking,
Forsaking the double-molecular atom.
It’s hard to dispose of waste
In such a clandestine fashion:
‘A half-life of 3 years.’
Standing in the dust of a meltdown-playground
I think I can hear the laughter and the crying of our children,
We’ll never see them in our waking lives
Only their silhouetted deformities
Leering monstrous in the night.
Look for shelter in an old church
Walking, radiating through the halls
Picking at the crumbling plaster,
Trying to master myself for a second:
“Severe and prolonged exposure,
Nausea, sickness, dizziness,
Fatigue…”
May 1, 2013
May 1, 2013 at 4:45 PM UTC
i want to be the woman they fall in love with
at a single glance
waltzing down the street
the one that
casts luminous shadows
creating paradoxes as she turns the corner
the one that winks an eye
at the mad old man
with no shoes
whom sits on the pavement
drooling
i want to be the one that kisses you goodnight
gives you butterflies
in every ***** of your body
paints your skin with my saliva
gives you looks of admiration
connects the stars with crayon lines
bends time with ionic minds
the one that keeps you up
day and night
the one that over takes your gray matter
i want to be the one
you call yours
Nov 18, 2013
Nov 18, 2013 at 12:00 AM UTC
Iconic ionic eye-on-ic
of
flowering flow,
glowering glow,
showering show;
towering though
meek.
Aug 2, 2012
Aug 2, 2012 at 12:10 AM UTC