"isotopes" poems
I got some things I want to confess
From an awkward nerd to a beautiful countess
You're more confusing than the Higg's Boson
I understand more the positrons and electrons
You're more complex than a polysaccharide
"Understanding You" is no book my archive
Why can't our relationship be a mutualism
Rather than the one sided commensalism
Could we be close like the tibia and fibula?
So close like the aorta and vena cavas?
To be close, I could only hope
Like uranium 237 and uranium 238, inseparable isotopes
Whenever I see you, I get the "kilig" affixes
Like the sour taste of citru sinensis
I can't get enough of your wonderful smile
It's like the taste of pentahydroxyhexanal
You might think I'm in delirium
But my thoughts are in equilibrium
You're the only girl inside my cranium
And this love for you is more precious than titanium
May 28, 2015
May 28, 2015 at 6:57 AM UTC
I have been told that a love left untouched will never disappear; that because the corrosive oils from our fingertips have not dissolved its coloring, it will, theoretically, endure perpetually. This love, left in its shrink-wrap casing, looming over the heads of the meek and the caustic feels like a scarlet letter hidden behind the robe, a feeling so foul none are to know but, Oh, what if it begins to fester, there in the moist dark?
This worry had been sitting in my stomach, churning with the bile and swallowed blood, coming up acid in my throat; I could feel it radiating out. Thought: it must be nuclear, must be radioactive and glowing, eating through me one layer at a time, but love –this uranium longing– has a half-life.
When first the reaction began it boiled and popped like lye on skin, singed off my eyelids so I could not help but see it there. I found myself woozy from the fumes, a high I had never experienced before so I inhaled, let it torch my lungs and leave me gagging. My hair began to fall out. I was soggy from the chemotherapy, tried pumping this bitterness into my bloodstream to remove the evil that already existed there, unaware that they were the same entity. It could not survive on a diet of itself and obsession, and so it began waning.
An exponential decay, the intensity of this passion varying directly with the frequency of contact and inversely with time, yet it will never be gone, entirely. It will decrease incrementally every time I say good bye, every time I see scarred knuckles, every time I want and he does not. I have counted the days since the day I counted on him and he was accountable and the number is growing larger and getting more difficult to remember. I have scribbled it onto scraps of paper and it has only browned the edges, no longer burns all the way through, and this love –this radium affair– has been losing its toxicity.
Apr 13, 2015
Apr 13, 2015 at 7:54 PM UTC
.
*Links in the chemist chain
laced in a double helix
defy the laws of the universe,
and the atavistic resurgence
creates isotopes of dream passion.
Elements conspire in panic
with a symmetry of casual chaos
that mimics an atomic bomb,
destroying its own creator
in a cruel parody of birth paradox.
Arresting the Iris of Dissolution
with cuffed anxiety drowning
in a pond of helium ore,
carelessly drifting on acid flesh,
coagulating in a soup of memory.*
And the paradigm shifts again,
reality unfocussed clears, strains,
revealing your shuddering form,
next to me, keeping me warm.
Lids flicker and you open your eyes,
shining, smiling in cute surprise.
Moving my finger up to my lips
whilst I gently untangle our hips.
*Do you remember this night?
Last night, tonight, tomorrow night?
Time begins to slowly rewind,
on the night you blew my mind.*
My essence is filled with your heart,
a love I have yet to discover.
Whilst you wander between the stars,
my universe starts to recover.
So please don't break this silence now.
Please don't shatter this moment long,
I want this post ****** memory to remain
in the morning when you have gone.
© Pagan Paul (04/11/17)
Nov 5, 2017
Nov 5, 2017 at 7:59 AM UTC
invisible isotopes
gently rain down
onto the chins
of infants
we whisk
them
away with
soft kisses
tiny
irradiated
dust flakes
float onto
boutonniereless
lapels
we brush them
off with fresh
carnations
Oak leaves
blown from
denuding limbs
by soft puffs of
radioactive
plumes
are shaken
from our
door mats
green grass
sprinkled with
Strontium 90
is mowed
and mixed
into our
compost piles
the pristine
waters
of March
are laced with
uranium
tainted
iodine
it coolly
slakes
our
piqued
thirst
the rouge rose
gilded with
a golden plush
of soft plutonium
is plucked
to adorn late
evening
dinner tables
and exchanged
by sweethearts
as amorous
gestures
of resignation
between
condemned
lovers
Oakland
3/28/11
jbm
Nov 5, 2011
Nov 5, 2011 at 9:27 PM UTC
*is it like a feather
is it now or never
our faces are neglected
our souls are introspective
gravity collected
space and time dissected
water is our mother
the earth is our shelter
a blessed sacred elder
lilikoi is my favorite fragrance
tastes like innocence
and you must respect her
amazing feelings to select
the headwaters call collect
protect our sacred mother
dance upon the other
call upon the winds
feel them on your skin
remove the falling stones
that cover up your bones
rest in love unknown
concentrate until it is shown
phone calls steal our happiness
accidents dent our marriages
darkness is our daughter
streaks of light and color
falling stars kept captive
we plant them in our yards
keepers of the spark
sisters of the sparrow
made of light and yarrow
feathers flicker softly
all our woven glory
givers of the heart
singers of the dark
if you wish to hear them
make yourself a part
of the symphony
lifetimes of abandonment
oh so quick to fill you in
on all the tragic stories
what if we ignored them
and stayed present in this moment
filling up our cups
simple days spent with simple eyes
kindness supplies our alibis
respect is valued
like a stream in our hearts
we are dipped clean
threads of beauty
borrowed from the scarecrow
next lifetime you’ll become
another source of hope
ports of pleasure in our seas
forever we are feeling these
hopeless ropes tying up our antidotes
confounded sounds mounds of hope
stereoscopes and isotopes
poets freely speak
seek islands of wisdom
on stormy seas of chatter*
Oct 24, 2017
Oct 24, 2017 at 9:34 AM UTC
'Tell me a story', she said and I said,
go to bed it's late, but wait,
here's a tale about a place called 'Windscale'
but they don't call it that anymore since they had that problem with the nuclear core.
I wish there were fish off the Cumbrian coast or at most some colours other than grey,
back in the day before they set up the plant when the sea was fertile and the fishermen would perspire and pant as they pulled in the catch it was a fine place to be,
then they killed off the sea,
dead!
'Tell me a story', she said,
I cried me a river instead.
Dec 9, 2015
Dec 9, 2015 at 3:56 PM UTC
--Hand serenity manually entered
The automatic response system
Alerts red light blind blinking
Her excited isotopes fly, entropy askew
The 'A' stands for ready, willing and Able-bodied
Feather boa leather boy and scarlet adultery
Tucked neatly in the back of her dresser
Under bloomers and pictures of young baby boomers
--A civil masterpiece--
"I would love to," she says with a careless car crash
And a shaking ****** serial slave smile
Blowtorch full of propane and limp-action lidocaine
She cuts chronic through a slice of Hollywood layer cake
--Serves it skintight
Oct 28, 2011
Oct 28, 2011 at 6:57 PM UTC
it's only that i want to
permeate particles like marie
curie did. lay your lungs out
on a slab and i will show you
intricacies in fissures. i don't know if i
want you inside me but i definitely
want you inside-out. the aches come
on worst in the morning and at
night, hold me in those moments like marie
curie would. demonstrate an interest
in the unseen and i will bring you
spectrometry. demonstrate an interest.
voices happen all day and i am
fixated. that friendly fire barely
shows herself at all anymore, only
in your absence, like an ill-conditioned
cat. i don't know if you noticed but
my boots are booking miles. my daemons
feed on a seed in my back, so do not
wag that tail. do not turn those beads
of fleshy water, there are magnets that
your cornea can't block. i'm past my
half life and you've passed your lethal dose,
so don't let me decay into an isotope
with half my strength. i'm leaving
traces on the walls you can scrape off
like brown ice. don't let me decay into
a softer neon. hold me tight like marie
curie died.
Feb 24, 2015
Feb 24, 2015 at 1:17 PM UTC
These lines experimental but elemental to your mental,
My creativity,
Will never submit to the minimal,
Isotopes subliminal penetrating the simple,
Similes send criminals to infiltrate your biochemicals,
Infected stanzas with stacked syntaxes sickness,
My subconscious semiautomatic and stimulated,
Formulate semblances of Leviathan illuminated,
It's a tragedy my soul's has become a victim of gravity,
Now my temples been raided,
My nirvana's disseminated,
And I've contemplated annihilation of self,
Picturing my end as a senile senior citizen,
With no one by my side,
My mind can't complete a sentiment,
Remembering has become my source of a smile,
But it's making me even more curious to taste the end of this projectile,
Mar 30, 2015
Mar 30, 2015 at 6:15 PM UTC
White lightning strikes us--
we're connected...
-vividly-
our energies
envelope...
visualization of our desire
sprouts forth
like an emerald tree
in the ethereal consciousness--
providing primeval symbols
taught to our isotopes
and totems.
Jan 4, 2012
Jan 4, 2012 at 12:49 PM UTC
Among these sacred waters
We see our souls
Reflected in finger-paints
Landscapes of residual horror
Parlor tricks are imminent
So you finish them off quickly
There are limits to our equations
As different situations
Require different attire
Lions dine upon your corpse
Like sordid isotopes
Re-posted paragraphs lost
In solitary envelopes
Require forever stamps
While sand storms
Dance on your eyelashes
You hesitate to cry
With eye-shadow on your eyelids
Please note that
I never meant to pry
Though i cannot deny
That it frequently happened
Mar 8, 2019
Mar 8, 2019 at 1:47 PM UTC
Will you let me pour my ramblings into your stream of consciousness ?
Will you follow me to the edges of my milky-way of swirling thoughts
And billion endless little sparks - such shrapnel from my life
And if I explode next to the sun like her golden child
Will you count with me and blink in unison
To miss my spontaneous combustion
When another idea catches fire
Unstable isotopes of the
Depths of my nature
Where Electrons
So excited -
Laugh
With
Light
?
Jul 2, 2013
Jul 2, 2013 at 7:53 AM UTC
This is not a love poem.
Because
I know nothing about the entrancement of Romance
It’s like watching a mime mimic antics
It makes me panic.
No, I write epics and tragedies.
About political catastrophes.
About the rhythmic anatomy of poetry.
Not about “How do I love thee…”
But let me count the ways that these days
Have grown strange;
The passage of time has seemed to stop.
This black clock’s bold Tock and
Tick have been erased and
I’m still sick with the aftertaste
From the venom of your kiss
Your toxic lips made me itch that
Poisoned twitch One-thousand times
Before my bloodshot eyes
Went blind to your beauty.
“A most unfortunate disability”
Professionals told me
But I just sighed and smiled insignificantly
“No, no, you see this,
Ironically, is immunity.”
Imperviousness to seduction
But this is not a love poem.
It’s a professional epiphany
An observation
All research and annotations state things like
Blind Fortunes and
Heart complications are just
Minor alterations that
Spark fascinations in
Lab coats and stethoscopes.
Isotopes of foreign hopes
Are my safety ropes to cope with my
Distance away from you another day
And there I go again.
Every ******* word I say will start out right
But then convey to betray me with the
Cliché decay
Of a fluttering heart.
And on this day when time has stopped
I’ll re-lock my jaw that dropped
And, with Blind Eyes, this mental case
Will try to trace the chalk outlines
Of lucid days
With the white spine
Of the brain stem
But this
Is not
A love poem.
Because
I refuse to be Entranced by Romance.
I’m the kind of guy who would Panic in
That Frantic state of mind
And draw away from Sunlight
To find warmth Moonshine
To bite the bullet and lace up these shoes
Because eleven shots and twelve steps
Is the closest I get to refuge.
See, I dream in the Black and White
Of a first version television box set
About Bloodied tragedies
And political catastrophes
Set to a beat based on
The rhythmic anatomy of poetry
Rarely about “How do I love thee…”
Or the bedpost marks of
Fading, Chalk-Laced Memories.
Mar 9, 2011
Mar 9, 2011 at 8:41 AM UTC
Atom and Eve
a basic unit of matter
it's more than magic up your sleeve
and out of all this gobbledy-goop
you wind up with the beautiful Eve
a dense centralized nucleus
surrounded by clouds of negative charge
shake them in a brown paper bag
and you come up with more than Curious George
stirred up protons and neutrons
except for the rascal hydrogen-1
chemical elements and Isotopes
but the beauty of you is what makes it fun
yes Eve was the Queen of all mothers
at least according to what we know
but was it the atoms of Adam's rib
or much more to this magnificent show
it seems the more that we understand
the more confused we become I believe
our world of constant amazement
much deeper than atom and Eve
Gomer LePoet...
Mar 26, 2013
Mar 26, 2013 at 8:54 AM UTC
Eyeballs return their messages
After the dial tone
You find yourself silent
What a milestone
At twenty six
You are still a ******
Useless burdens
Learn to surf
It combines love with gravity
Strategies and striated lines
Fingers align
We incline our spines
And elevate our torsos
Mind the gap
A fabricated rip in time and space
Figuratively awake
We speak from our hearts
Your long time girlfriend
Is now a victim of indecision
Start talking or you’ll lose her
More than ever she needs your strength
Your friendship, your lips and your touch
Control the rush
And give time a chance to unwind
Mindless fingers linger on her legs
Can we beg for more
Or will we get usurped by the corridors
Cartons of milk left in defiance
Send me your elegant negligee
I neglected to beg your pardon
You neglected to say you were sorry
Phone calls reach dial tones
And we remove the stones from our sundials
Calendars are timeless timelines
Wild like waves
We break free of enslaved isotopes
Compose songs and poems
And attempt to drink atomic gold
From fountains of power
Houses are all just boxes
That we store our souls in
Gardens are living visions
Virtues are numberless
Hundreds of spirits join hands
In parks and paintings
We partake in equations of healing
Save me from my longing
For loving too much is a curse
And purses fall like hexes
Placing dents in your dresses
We undress our fences
And select our neighbors
To dance with
Mar 13, 2019
Mar 13, 2019 at 3:25 PM UTC
que the incoherent ramblings of a slightly inebriated sadist
who's brain is plagued by the tongue of Satan
and there is no easy way to say this
but i have an opinion,
therefore
i am going to state it
and through my veins runs a most potent concoction of hatred
a sheer and utterly perplexing disdain for human nature
and anything else even remotely associated
i welcome death and darkness as if we were closely related
and my brain is my coffin,
there is no safe haven
but comrades, do not be mistaken
for i am god
and so are you
but in order to maintain a state of equilibrium,
sometimes i am very inclined to masquerade as the devil too
and i'll admit it,
im probably a little sick and very confused
but im also cynical, pessimistic and devoid of hope
and ironically,
im but a clusterfuck of atoms and isotopes
pondering the structure of atoms and isotopes
but then again, maybe i just need to cut back on the coke
and the acid, shrooms, dmt, ecstacy, and the obscence
amount of ******* cigarettes that i smoke
but within the deepest confines of my tormented soul
there is a hole
that i feel only the solace of a controlled substance can console
like, how the **** am i supposed to find contentment
in existence
when i know that every living creature on earth will inevitably
die
alone
Feb 22, 2015
Feb 22, 2015 at 5:49 PM UTC
You and I drowned in grass while beer cans collected rainwater on a hot night in autumn.
O my redhead girl
O my golden goddess take me far away
Hello hello hello anyone home???
Is anyone-
No thanks, not interested
I don't want what you're selling
The street is wet and the sky is branded
Brand me too
You already have, what's one more?
Just tell me what I owe you and I'll give it to you
Just tell me what I owe you so this'll be over
Hello hello is anyone-
Oh
So that's your game here
Take up your Geiger counter, go on
It won't tell you anything you don't know
So I'm a few screws loose
A few isotopes shy of a real person
My first honest relationship was with a girl with no face
O my springtime gal
You're no rose, you're just all thorns
Say I'm no good then
I'm just no good
Say I'm a washed up summer king
I double dog dare you
You and me walked through a stream filled with dreams blue and green and you took my hand
I called you the night I died
Sometimes I wish I'd gotten the dial tone
Mar 27, 2014
Mar 27, 2014 at 2:08 PM UTC
i came out the dark knight @ a time of Halloween...
October 31st, aka 13!(thirteen)! its like revenge of the shin-obi
when the master ninja intervenes! ill scratch you off my ticket, no ANTIHISTAMINE!
I OPERATE OF PRESURE POWERED BY MY SELF ESTEEM!
life is like a submarine, aka 20,000 leagues
13 FLAMES @ the caliber of 90 degrees,
WHY? B cuhz his psyche is that of majestic tree$
he grounds his feet magnetically and sails on solar seas,
like dreams i am the cosmic center piece and your in for adventures anytime you mention me.
weathered emotions or emotions are weather, all we endeavor, just REMEMBER, that we're in it 2gether.
i seek for that lyrical gold, the magnificent treasure
where mere letters compose characters for the spirit of a ghost.
i control, their minds like buttons on a remote
juxtaposed isotopes,,,
reran episodes hide the codes, thru magic cloaks,
the lames don't want to feel my fury like thunderbolts
or 13 tornadoes and mashed potatoes.
nova flames ENABLES, his girl to experience rare occasions
Jun 18, 2013
Jun 18, 2013 at 12:19 AM UTC
thunder cackles in the morning
a witch is a woman
with any amount of wisdom
your words are as bland as coffee
and the dandelions are talking
for i am permanently amused
by vicissitudes and antelopes
and aggregates of moods
feelings and isotopes
hanging by psychotropic ropes
firmly financed by our fingertips
lifetimes triangulated in transitions
farm the fallow fields
and try to heal the poppies
dropping numbers
and putting aside our copies
a simulacrum of similes and shortages
as field mice and farmhands
dance on saturn’s rings
despite all of jupiter’s complexities
your complexion is never shallow
and i swallow seawater
to embrace the sweet finality of life
Nov 15, 2018
Nov 15, 2018 at 9:27 PM UTC
Am I in the right headspace?
Do I travel the galaxies conjured by my thoughts just to end up in black holes?
I’m seeking epiphanies
You know, those elusive supernovas that defy even the eyes of gods
I claim to be rich in spirit, yes
Trying to measure my wealth with the hours I spend in the stratosphere
above every worry that injects my bones with the weight of 2 Earths-
the weight of a place that doesn’t want to ever wait
Yet it must
You can’t break a chrysalis and expect patterns on the wings
You’ll get misshapen kaleidoscopes
and fragmented isotopes
beings who’ve never climbed but will die trying to ascend ropes
Am I in the right headspace?
Is my consciousness a constellation waiting to take form?
What will be the shape?
I’ll never be strong enough to resemble the buckle on Orion’s belt
I’ll never be the mouth at the big dipper,
drunk on the secrets of the cosmos
I’d want to be the hands gripping Polaris
sharing light for the planets who only see a moon rise
Am I in the right headspace?
Because I’ve fallen into nebulas,
realms where humans stand on the heads of giants yet look no higher
I’ve seen flawed ideologies that challenge monuments with their size
I wonder what it’d take for us to realize that we could be immortals
free from the finite mentalities that stunt our growth from the very roots.
Aug 15, 2018
Aug 15, 2018 at 9:15 PM UTC
my lips quake as i bow to you
my heart shakes and trembles like a leaf
nature's temples wait and remind us of simplicity
are our minds as tranquil as a lake
do they reside in peaceful quiet
can we sense the edges of the wild
lines are changed and bodies rearranged daily
have you come into your power lately
i swallowed my pride but not my feelings
i give thanks for this healing
as my fingers lick your spine
i am blinded by your fury
we combine memory and poetry
lights are dancing
hunger abates and we must
face our fears with fealty
this light is bright
this life is mindless
kind of like a spiral
these burning brains
drain our storehouses
while we waste away our resources
like porous hourglasses
drip time like honey
i am a sign waving in the wind
singing my rhythms
from deep within
the water and the earth
are permanently hurting
shrouds of candid letters
leftovers that will forever
remain lonely
as isotopes of poetry
are the ions of everything
Oct 10, 2018
Oct 10, 2018 at 3:00 PM UTC
balance on one foot or a thousand
for a hundred years or more
cause it doesn’t really matter
if you have no talent
i am a candidate for enlightenment
and you are too by virtue
of your entanglement
we are bonded like isotopes and stars
so let's congratulate all the hearts
that have broken ours
merely out of habit
Nov 14, 2018
Nov 14, 2018 at 5:35 PM UTC
The rocks on these barren mountain slopes
slowly bleed radioactive isotopes
this is where the goats of green start bleating for more
yet all is silent below, where begins the fields of war
Only these strange green goats are alive now
they had watched up on grounds high
watched the battle of mankind and Earth
knowing if man had won, no one would survive
After turning on mother Earth breaking her back
they in their greed of want turned on each other
they stole what they could of other lands resources
those final battles of man now gone, saved their mother
The green goats will in time turn pure white
with no mind poison of man in sight
the green will come back to the world
greed will now stay hidden within deep soil
By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
Nov 19, 2013
Nov 19, 2013 at 11:02 PM UTC
I'd queue for you
to get a seat for you.
I'd fill pools for you
then swim for you.
I'd rhyme with words for you,
i'll find worlds for you.
I'd search for you
and peer for you.
Hope for you,
when i spoke to you.
Navigate slopes for you,
part moats for you.
Split isotopes for you.
Wrote for you
by rote for you.
Discover routes for you,
root for you.
Jun 29, 2013
Jun 29, 2013 at 8:07 AM UTC
The curvature of your heart,
The center of attention that you are,
You pull me close to you,
A gravitational force is thus around you,
You accelerate my steps towards you,
You magnatize my heart,
And like electrons I revolve around you,
Our love is an atom,
You're the nucleus I'm the electron,
I have many isotopes of you,
One is of love,
Second is for care,
And third is compassion.
Dec 4, 2015
Dec 4, 2015 at 10:24 PM UTC