"ions" poems
When I look at you
You send shivers
No – sparks.
The air is charged with them
Dense.
I can feel just how much of it
is between us –
(always too much)
And I want more than anything
To cross it –
Wade through the ions
to you.
To only stop when my lips
Meet yours
(the only way I have found
to get rid of the air)
and you take my breath away.
Jul 13, 2014
Jul 13, 2014 at 11:09 AM UTC
Dissociation:
noun
the disconnection or separation of something from something else or
the state of being disconnected.
CHEMISTRY
the splitting of a molecule into smaller molecules, atoms, or ions,
especially by a reversible process.
PSYCHIATRY
separation of normally related mental processes, resulting in one group functioning independently from the rest, leading in extreme cases to disorders such as multiple personality.
Dissociation is not trendy.
It’s not just depression or starring into space.
It’s so much more
It’s crawling away form reality and making
a home in your head.
Losing contact with your body.
Dissociation is not knowing who you are.
Dissociation is watching yourself in third person.
Dissociation is feeling so scared that you’d rather loose
yourself entirely then live in the present.
Dissociation is not always multiple personalities
but sometimes no personality.
It’s losing time.
It’s not recognizing those you love.
It’s having little to no memory of
anything that happened after the fifth grade.
its knowing faces but not exactly sure where
from.
It’s a defense mechanism.
It’s writing your name on the back of your hand to not
completely lose all of you.
It’s wearing a rubber band to snap yourself back
because you have taught yourself to know
when you are losing yourself
It’s getting help,
because you know in your very few
lucid moments that this is not normal.
May 10, 2017
May 10, 2017 at 9:37 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
Clash. Zap. Thunderclap.
Orbitals charged with electricity collide - feels like crossing the streams
let's - smash atoms like Adam and Eve,
pierce fiercely with particles blown white hot from my accelerator
Insatiable
Like trying to fill up a black hole, so i accelerate her
excite her, ignite her, my touch lights her on fire
combust.
a cloud of ecstasy like Co2 rises higher
I've got my eyes on your ions
take a picture it'll last longer?
snap a photo digitize her
particles turned pixels tilt their head skyward
transcendant enlightenment, released it inside her
E=mc^2 , i can please you at the speed of light
we just rewrote the big bang theory and this time we got it right
opposites attract and charged sparks fly
we might not touch but ion be ****** if we don't try
I'm a ****** intellectual
I love your body AND your mind.
Apr 5, 2012
Apr 5, 2012 at 2:13 PM 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
A true story of a chance gathering of strangers in the back room of a Gelato Parlor *** restaurant, two years ago, in a little village near the bay, on a land surrounded by vineyards. Come visit.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Gelato Nation
There is a place,
location secret,
mine to keep,
mine with which
you to tease,
make you envious,
a back room 'office'
jealous guarded
by a barkeep,
whose chosen invites sweeps
you into a reality that is
what you will it to be.
But nota bene, note well,
remembrances of things swell
from your past be the
only tongue spoken here.
Code word entry only,
a shared whisper.
Perhaps One Woman,
may reveal its pleasures,
if she so chooses,
which are:
gelato laughs, poetry snaps,
Beatle songs sung ensemble,
by rag tag strangers
self-collected accidentally,
sung de rigeur off key
by voices lubricated by
cognac, laughter, and
the coldest of white wines,
issue of the very soil
upon which we sit.
Words to value properly,
not in my possess to capture
the few moments in time when;
Strangers transform themselves
into a triple A nation united,
that will never be
S&P; downgraded.
A holy alliance
celebrating July 4th
all night long,
all participants
signatory witnesses to
its gelato conception,
as well as pallbearers
to its last drink dissolution,
the fullness of its lifetime
a vintage of a few hours extant,
a vintage, once drunk, is
a history, forever gone.
Mixologists please record:
One playwright, a psychologist, bond trader and a social scientist
with a dash of museum director,
and do not forget the
Hundred Year Old Woman,
whose Dowager Princess Daughter
(she, a mere eighty)'
from Central Park West
clarifies all of life dilemmas with
the singular analytical tool of:
But is it good for the Jews?
**But t'is the barkeep
who is the leavening
in this evenings human
pastry-petrie dish.**
He makes the pastiche,
the ions of personalities,
coalesce best,
guitar strummer,
singer of songs that were our
multiple national anthems
when we were pseudo-rebels
starting out on our
long and winding roads.
Long the King of the Keep!
Long live the memory of our
Gelato Nation,
may it stay sweet in
our antique collection of
the best moments of
our intersecting lives.
July 2011
Jul 4, 2013
Jul 4, 2013 at 6:00 PM UTC
It's the start of the school
year and everyone's
milling about
socializing
Water particles
Milling about
forming
and breaking
hydrogen bonds
There's a group of
new kids,
awkwardly standing
off to the side
A large crystal
of salt
is dumped among
the
water
Some of the old kids
start milling
over pulling
new kids
into
their friend
groups
The water starts
bonding with
individual
ions of salt
positive with negative
negative with positive
pulling them
away
to form
bonds
Eventually all the
new kids are
incorporated into
friend groups
The lattice of salt
is broken apart
...
And all the individual ions
are surrounded
by
new
friends
Known as H2O
Oct 2, 2018
Oct 2, 2018 at 7:23 PM UTC
Waiting for the storm
to lower its head and charge
In ozone incense of unstable air
Eons of ions ago
horned and heavy negatives
lock prey within vortical-eye
Angelic flutter of electrons struggling on--
in yellowish friction above...
“...Did I tell you?”
Love is lightning hotter than the sun!
Schism--
resolving in the only way it can
a design that cannot save itself!
Clouds roar away--
For a minute-- I think that I will too
-- along with all these words and rain
*“...and did I tell you...
how thunderstorms remind me
...of love...the way it should be
and the worship after?”*
Jun 18, 2017
Jun 18, 2017 at 7:03 PM UTC
In high-school chemistry classrooms across the
country, you are forced to memorize all of the different
lab equipment.
They never tell you to memorize the constellation
of freckles spattered across the bridge of your
lab partner's nose, but you do it
anyways.
You learn about Marie Curie and radioactive decay, but you
find you are more interested in the way his smile starts small
and grows to light a fire in your cheeks.
You blame it on the Bunsen burner.
You study polyatomic ions and how they act as a single unit, and it
reminds you of how he winks at you right before quizzes
and you find you can't focus on anything at all.
You blame it on the lack of breakfast.
You test over periodic trends and ionization energy, but all
you can think of at night is the way he taps his fingers
and maybe it's why you can't sleep at night.
You blame it on a restless mind.
In high-school chemistry classrooms across the
country, you are forced to be careful when handling
Erlenmeyer flasks.
They never tell other students to be careful when handling
your heart.
They never tell you how much easier it is to clean up the mess
from a shattered beaker than it is to clean up the mess
from your shattered heart.
Oct 25, 2015
Oct 25, 2015 at 4:06 PM UTC
Plumped rouge with pigment
her lip fills to graze the ********
intent to disquiet the likes of de Sade
autografted with ocular detachment
should a Marquis wish to harness
the song of the morning
within a bandolier of Seine
to ensnare any bustled Persephone
gilted by discharge of ions
into a ménage of torment
through the Porte des Lions.
Hers is the tincture of doxy
caramelized and debrided of naivety,
empowered by the eve of invention,
swollen to curves and grounded in Paris.
Illumination defies pervasion
down to every gear and pulley
she has hushed through mechanization
and lulled by steam,
swaging a cacophony of flickers
encased in glass by the Lady’s watch,
where every rivet of her plate glisters silken
reverberation in cascade,
elegant, caged, and towering,
outspoken in silence,
ever challenging the Champ de Mars.
"Paris by Gaslight," written by Dionne Charlet, is the title poem to be featured in the upcoming steampunk anthology Paris by Gaslight, the third anthology in the By Gaslight Series from New Orleans small press Black Tome Books. Look for the first two collections of poems and short stories set in Victorian Times, New Orleans by Gaslight (ISBN 9780615801186) and Cairo by Gaslight (ISBN 9781516961528). Both collections feature poetry by Charlet, under the pseudonym Dionne Cherie.
Nov 3, 2016
Nov 3, 2016 at 2:44 PM UTC
~and for Harlan, who loved this one best~
*"for tandem is the ever-changing, graying color of their fierce attached tenacity"
waking/walking in
careful pacing regular lock steps,
like new cadets, counting cadence,
in perfect silent, almost motionless,
except for the minuscule quivering of
slightly parted moving lips
these two elders,
still now plebes,
freshmen
but of a latter, graduated stage,
demonstrating robustly
the slow shuffle-along,
a well practiced dance conjured
'in tandem'
her arm, crooked in his,
his other hand,
in protective custody of a
knight's armored chain glove
encasing hers,
he, shuffling just,
a precise, intended half-a-beat slower
lest she ever think
that she, ever be a drag upon him
hair, his,
threaded with daily,
new arriving grays,
proudly accepted
as the privilege of
graceful aging
hers,
disguised with periodic outings,
outings for the hidings of life's bookmarks,
conceding nothing ever to
time's lunatic desire to separate them
modest in dress,
styling hints of pasts' elegant,
the man's hat defiant,
daringly jaunty angled,
a small scarf to handbag knotted,
matching his Windsor knotted tie
the passers-by, all smile,
the signal charm of an
end game processional,
thinking so sweet,
yet mine eyes detect more,
something
hardy and radical
a fierce, fierce fierceness,
both fighters in the resistance,
armed with tandem tenacity,
ground given,
but only inches surrendered,
wounds resisted by
scar skin toughened
by the caress of ions bonding
under the pressure
of atomic level mutuality
worn out,
well past Purple Hearts,
no capitulation feared,
to the ever changing,
enemies' new disguises,
they,
a two person platoon,
each,
having the other's back
and I burst into tears on the street,
a train of out loud moans,
even groans emitted,
like a string of perfect pearls
breaking,
clattering on an asphalt terrain
weeping
not
from visions of the inevitable,
sighing
not
from the certitude of a
cycle's uptime ending*
but jealous furious by this reminder delightful,
angry at myself, for having lost so many wasted years,
mine, the loss greatest, for absent was the
fierce tenacity of tandem
Mar 6, 2017
Mar 6, 2017 at 8:41 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
Oh, Kitsune! You hit me like a tsumani.
Beautiful just like origami. So Intricate and unique
So this is how it feels to have a heart beat?
Every morning feels like a new day.
I'm so glad something can make me feel this way.
All that pain taken out by the tide,
I think without you I just might have died.
Internally as the stife rides high.
Cerebelum is reverberating all the environs.
Radiating as if emotions where ions.
Then the universe brought me a small little fox.
All packed up neat in a digital box.
And soon I get to open the gift.
And maybe feel a feeling I really missed.
So thank you kitsune, you make it alright.
Just a sneaky fox stealing my heart in the night.
Apr 10, 2016
Apr 10, 2016 at 10:45 PM UTC
love between poets: “who will be between the sheets next week
when I’m gone,” she lets sigh-escape,
as she watches the backyard paradise parading landscape
of animals before the bay, perfect day sure to come,
her new pets obeying the early morn sunrising awakening call
to rise, everyone playing~parading, before her royal summons,
no coincidence, finger-of-god, two by two
this while I’m kissing her neck,
my arm around her *******
and the he-intent on slip sliding down
to the small of her back,
obeying his innate,
worship worshiping and giving up,
all he’s got intense intently contentedly
unfazed, unphased,
non-nonplussed,
he’s been interrogated before,
heart is pure he answers:
next weekend when you are back in situ,
thousands of miles away, airplane housed for hours,
writing poems of love from the lost and found,
recalling this exact moment,
how I worshipped your presence,
and these words:
You will be with me in every breath,
our sheets will radioactively emit
ions and molecules of our scent combined,
and present as present your perfume can be,
elicited, elixir, you and me combinant
she turns from the bay-view,
the animals who now mutually
worship her adoration,
watching, focused on us as observers,
she lifts me up and smiles,
replying*
“oh my lover you’re the cad of cads,
king of the baddest poet-lads,
the gist of what is wrong with the best of men,
her, pressing me hard to her chestnut hair chest,
she, falling down into my eyes
take me back to bed, liar,
let me add to my aroma,
to ensue, to ensure you will miss
the best love
you had partly, insufficiently, and unhinged
completely
I’m your lassie, you my lad,
my king of cads, my lover poet,
thief of my poems and my secret speech spells,
escalating senses of one’s imaginings”*
and,
along came the rest
of what was freely given,
for love between poets
man and
a woman,
is a someone, somewhere,
sometime summertime
thing
*I will still smell you in my
heart, and send to you ballistic missives,
words to explode your tear ducts
when you rest in sheets that met me,
when you’ll know me by my odors,
cry out loud so that you’ll scare our animals,
no matter how many tides wash away our residue,
you will never unknow and be forever unprepared
for my return,*
even though we will be each, a thousand unwritten poems away...
Jul 13, 2019
Jul 13, 2019 at 11:07 AM UTC
You can strikingly feel the magical migration of ions
Controlling the electricity you breathe
All the pleasant sensations of silken charges
Sharing in your sweet ecstasy
A very slight whisper of the purest sensitivity
Skillfully washes into your pores
Releasing a smooth rhythm of tempting delight
Promising your senses so much more
You yield in response to the rhythm of the migration
Cherishing sweetly the spellbinding sound
Of each breath as accepted by your willing spirit
Infused with the taste of the whispers you have found
Is this just a fantastic illusion, unhinging your mind
This migration you now find you embrace
You ask your spirit in a fit of rising rebellion
With a satisfied smile on your face
Jul 28, 2010
Jul 28, 2010 at 6:26 PM UTC
Ötzi
Even in my long sleep,
I dreamed of this.
A waking by strangers
A grasping of my wrist
And I wrench it back from them!
My dreams beneath the ice
Were warm, in summer vales,
Where children played
Under my watch, old but hale.
An easy thing, my guard was then.
I tend sore limbs as supper warms,
And aching joints inflamed,
And muscles tough as ibex horn;
For a while I can be lame.
And see my copper ax in the red-gold flame.
I dream of how it came to me,
After vanquishing a headsman.
Intruders fell before me!
And I earned this talisman.
Weapon, scepter, power of my clan!
Then I was sent across the mountain,
A lone journey I knew well.
To trade with kinsmen in a the northern glen,
With gifts, arrow shafts and tales to tell,
Never guessing betrayal that walked behind.
Alone upon the highest peak
I ate my last meal by the fire.
To me the gods seemed trying to speak,
As men I knew climbed higher.
We had words, but they were my kin!
In my long sleep I wonder why
These false friends turned to hate.
I’d watched over them, yet they cried
That my rule was done, and it was too late,
So I turned from them and faced my doom.
I crossed the last protruding rock
And now felt safe from them.
But then a blow, beneath my heart: a shock!
I fell in a soft, snowy glen,
And then a dull pain in my skull…and black.
Beneath me, I can feel the ax;
They’d never take that from me!
Nor my arrows, quivers and packs;
And risk the fury of the gods.
They’d taken my power and left a naked soul.
Five-thousand years I spent beneath the frost,
Until I was found and freed.
My scattered ions watched, angry and lost.
They dragged my body from its bed
And my soul from another life.
Now part of me lies in a crypt
Another frozen tomb.
If only I hadn’t run and slipped,
All those ages ago,
I would now lie in sacred ground,
Back in the earth to which all are bound.
Sep 9, 2017
Sep 9, 2017 at 10:16 AM UTC
Agape unconditional love
leaves world's mouth
agape (wide open).
Love unreservedly
and lavishly with
unrestricted abandon.
Forgive everything
and be free.
Contentment comes
from within the
heart of the freed,
and a soul that
is truly beautiful,
happy and full of grace
with joyful tenderness.
Without striving but
thriving in prosperity,
full of light
and the living ions.
Powered by the
force of the spirit.
Even though surrounded
by numerous tumults,
immense profound peace
engulfed such a one.
The unforgettable and
unusual unspeakable elixir
of life is unleashed
to comfort him.
Delightful with
a grateful heart,
pleasant and pleasing,
so easy to placate.
A comforter full
of wisdom and knowledge.
Versatile and eclectic nature
is abundantly lavished on him.
His presence heals.
Not judgemental but
full of unimaginable
tenderness and understanding.
Such is the way of love.
Agape love.
©2018,Emeka Mokeme. All Rights Reserved.
Nov 22, 2018
Nov 22, 2018 at 4:55 AM UTC
phloem in your veins;
your tongue curls around
the syllables of my name
erotically, and I'm
daydreaming about
your tongue curling around
my ******** while you talk circles about
calculus and chemistry.
woodgrain and
blood veins and
gun-splattered gore-brains,
the kitchen counter
saturated in sherbet and
awash in girl-cum
while you writhe next to the
fruit bowl, in flagrante delicto.
we conquered the universe with a
steady stream of xenon ions, probing
deep into the velvety wet folds
of the galaxy, two fingers
to the laws of physics, two fingers
stretching you out.
Sep 14, 2014
Sep 14, 2014 at 4:18 PM UTC
cigarettes $ pysilocibin
my silhouette is like a lion
feeling high like lifted horizons
soak me in like negative ions
trust your gut, trust your instinct
life is in sync,
but change happens every instant
haters have their opinions
my styles they still mimic
im a discordian magician, ill have your mind tricked
have you question is your reality fact or fiction?
master chef still rules the kitchen
im a bad boy ladies love the villain
cross me once no forgiveness
nova fills all voids thats empty
max pizzazz raps has plenty
im living carefree like heart of a young star,,,
in elementary
but i cant be schooled, bejeweled, or lose my cool
most cannot comprehend the magnitude of nova flames
my path cannot be retraced, you'll be sent on figure eights aka familiar ways, blinded by intense ultraviolet rays aka a violent blaze
i was married to the game
cuhz i accidentally caught the bouquet on my life's wedding day
now i ride the electric wave aka majestic whales
the super nova tares the scales
now i must rebuild my crystal castle with one pail bucket
once i reach the summit
i can enjoy the fruits of my labor
at the all you can eat buffet,
and live in my abundance, never ever hungry...
Jan 25, 2014
Jan 25, 2014 at 2:58 AM UTC
Your Kiss is electric
And my body jumps at it
As if it were a basic instinct
These lips will be your bubble gum
Daring you to chew the flavor out
And let your thoughts take a walk
My body will light up for you like a lightning bolt across a night sky
Eagerly seeking your bones to ground me and your hips to grind
And your lips to collide with mine,
Like charged ions finding another
And when what's left leads into something right.
Bright blue electricity flashing hot white
And when the flashing slows
And the roar of our thunder turns into a distant lullaby of afterglow, wind-chimes and zephyrs,
I will see the stars I chased
And wished upon,
never forgot about me
or my dreams,
Just gave me more days
And different ways
To find you
And
To really recognize you
Apr 29, 2017
Apr 29, 2017 at 6:59 PM UTC
From the elements that dance around us, I gather this and more,
a desire to be one with them, in ways one can't fully discern.
A meteorite had fallen in love with me, I am the fire raging inside her,
no evidence one has, how inner fire changes, till it happens!
Look at that distant star, does it speak? But, I know she loves me for ions.
One will better understand, if one lends ears to the tune of nature.
The wind booms its love, caresses the desire, let it grow in to a fire,
we are energies in dance, love and longing disguised, that take many forms.
Jul 23, 2013
Jul 23, 2013 at 9:07 AM UTC
My fingers
maddenly
stroke across
the letter-keys,
reproducing
my fiery thoughts
about you,
how I feel
& the acts
I want to do.
To kiss your lips
for an eternity,
and to trace
your beautiful form
forever
drives me
to the brink
of raw,
pure,
primordial creativity.
It's hard,
like granite,
these images imbedded
deep,
deep,
deep
inside my mind.
You intertwined,
wrapped around
my genetic impulses,
a ball of ions,
slapping me
into submission
& I release,
I release,
I release in spasms,
these multiple emissions.
Beautiful tokens
of my love for you,
unspoken
& electrical.
Do you ever think about me...
electronically?
May 4, 2015
May 4, 2015 at 8:55 AM UTC
When the carrot finally snaps,
And covers the world in mushrooms,
And the thoughts and dreams of billions cease-
We'll be where that sacred spore takes hold,
Waiting for it to bloom,
Patiently waiting while making love
Sacred spores with sacred purpose!
Find your targets well!
Find us! Find us!
We are fertile soil!
How delicious would it be,
For spore and seed and egg to meet?
A life beginning,
And ending
In one spectacular flash and roar!
**** we'll go down swingin'
To every movement swayin'
Your hips and mine, sweet slammin'
You know what I'm sayin'?
And as the flash and roar subside,
We will be mushrooms
And tar
And ions
And eons
And eons
And eons
We will be gone <3
Oct 8, 2018
Oct 8, 2018 at 4:35 PM UTC