Escapism

Unknowing Escapists

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Unknowing Escapists 

 

 

 

Death, ..not proud—So sleep!

...dreaming of thy softer skin

—Thee—objectified!








Author's Notes/Comments: 

Reedited on 07.19.2019, 07.18.2019, 07.17.2019 (On clarifications, disambiguation, misspelled/mistyped words, grammatical/semantical errors):  Upon reviewing my notes/comments, I could not help but notice something that I had to revise.  I have edited that something in my Author's Notes/Comments, for some time, yet I had not been able to update and indicate those in the former reedition (I may have forgotten it).  Some of my previous grammatical/semantical errors were corrected/edited; but that had also lent itself to being still erroneous after I had found out about the others/another, consequently.  Those were the scruples which I had, i.e., in noticing/not noticing/ignoring an unedited/missed part, i.e., of a sentence (that was erroneous & that which was consequently omitted.)

 

The idea behind this practice poem is certainly not an allusion to John Donne's famous line or to his poem, although it sounded like it—in fact, it was sort of in my head before this was done (I do not know about his poetics until later on, after doing this).  But the usage might easily denote such notions or concepts which you might have in mind already (a correlative or a relation/association to this).  The phrase first came to mind while I was in my first few steps of composing something (which I wanted to pull off in the creation process alone & not necessarily done while visualizing my supposed ends).  That might/could be dangerous if it was Magic.  I did not know what had prompted me.  It does not necessarily end up as I supposed to have wanted it to come off (in that it was not my endpoint, to think about it).  My orientation is/was not in that specified way, as for most poetic styles &/or semblances with each poems that are rather perceptual (aside from being already conceptual).  Generally.  It is a moot point to take note of the circularity of such philosophical arguments (e.g., especially at this time) which I could have done with the rest of my haiku adaptations during the last.  I kept on feeling awkward at using haikus in the first place, or for taking on the minimalistic Japanese approaches/styles (& the use of blank spaces), just to go about such particular pieces of "literary work".  I especially connote my written English aside from my own thoughts about the subjects (&/or objects) that comprise the 'denotata'/'designata' at the moment.  Besides, if you might want to really know about my objectives, you may outright realize that these would be my test pieces or guides for mapping out my whole understanding of Language.  I just hope that this note's real message (real intention) comes across and becomes well received in conjuction with the poem's explanation/history/reason/etc. as in the other author's notes/comments that went before this.

My ode to Meditation

Folder: 
spirituality

 

My Ode To Meditation

 

Meditation, breathing heavy
Only sometimes, to re-inforce
The state of no mind

 

Meditation, Posture too
An old body, won’t help you
In the state of no mind

 

Meditation, No mind

And it does matter
Cos mind, is only designed
To tell you what you did

 

Meditation, higher mind
Is designed
With the future in mind
All of the time

 

Meditation, empty mind
To give it elevation
Paths of least resistance
A sat nav sublime

 

Meditation, the future
In and out of mind
At the same time
Confusing sometimes

 

Meditation, a must
To achieve higher mind
But when you think
Your higher mind sinks
Then back in this worlds grip

Author's Notes/Comments: 

My Ode To Meditation
By: Me
Written on September 15th, 2011

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Free

Standing on this brink,
I peek over the edge;
One step further
Could set me free
Looking over my shoulder,
I see no one.
Glancing over the horizon,
I see someone staring back.
I recognize the facial features;
The way his smile crooks to one side.
He stares blankly into my eyes;
Burning a hole into my mind.
Trying to escape his gaze—
I stand frozen in time,
lacking the strength to move.
Love struck again—sucked back in
Trapped is my heart,
In which he holds captive—
Finally, I break free,
From his telekinetic grasp;
And fall back—
My breath escapes.
Looking beyond,
To where he once was,
I realize he never—was.
All in my imagination,
Was the perfect man.
Standing up, I lean over,
And slip over the edge.
Landing silently, no sound—
Numb; floating out of my body.
My soul leaves and flies free—
No more, does he have a hold on me.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Written in 2002

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tags:

The Mist

The future's ahead,

But the memories creep up.

As I reach this brink,

Thoughts overpower me.

Shaking violently,

They refuse to subside.

In the misty darkness,

I feel your touch.

Afraid of this, I jump;

Whipping around—

Peering, into nothingness.

Floating—drifting—

Into the mist.

My judgment is blurred,

By the demons within;

Fury fighting,

Dragging me in.

Numb, walking—

With no feeling.

I stop for a minute,

To listen.

Only the sound of my heart, beating;

Ringing in my ears,

Its painful plea.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Written in 2004

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Mortimer Sly

Sky scraping man, stone weather hands

Walking on highways made out of sand

Heavy in stepping, lilting in tow

Decisive in battery of where next to go

Feeling so shy and wary of Mary

Such burdens of grit, such sorrows to carry

A man of scars forever is hurting

Determined to run but always returning

He lives to his name by getting away

And does himself shame by trying to pray

Falls to his knees to speak to the sky

Feels dry in the mouth and blind in the eyes

Storms in the air, clouds would be blessing

And nothing but thunder will come to his catching

Listless clapping, distant roars

A child's hands and nothing more

Motherless Mortimer, not much to lose

Picks up his pace as panic ensues

He runs from mirages, present or benign

With hope to leave, or transcend, or die

Mortimer Sly, such a threatening look

Stealing into sunset like such petty crooks

With knowledge of better, all but forgotten

Regrets of the former, near but down trodden

Mortimer Sly, flee from your others

Those you have hurt, those you smothered

Live through the holes on the soles of your shoes

And know that by now, you've none left to lose.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Keep running, Mortimer Sly.

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03-29 Between You and Me,

Folder: 
DailyPoetryProject

I lie to myself.

I lie and I believe.

I know, I know, it’s so naive.



I lay a trap to catch you fallin’

for it on your own.

Once again, I can’t get out.



And then the stars whisper secrets

to each other in their penthouse suites

of ways they can endure the cameras

following their weary feet in

steps drawn on the dance floor

secretly, so only black lights show

the shining shimmering reflection,

ink invisible that glows.



And,



I know, I know it’s not important

to remember why

I mentioned anything at all.



This time we’ll lay the trap together

and jump into the center

to wait for no one to find

where it is we went

in such a hurry to relax,

stretched out on our backs

and gathering the strength

to never move again,

pretending that the sky

won’t find our secret,

and won’t flush us out.



So, sleep, darling, sleep.

Let your dreams count the seconds

passing by like the clouds

that gently cover your closed eyes

from the light that might disturb you.

Softly stirring, no one heard you,

except me,

and I will never tell

on you.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

...skipped 3-28's entry - it was too drafty.

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THROUGH FANTASY( Pantoum)

Woman Writing a Letter. 1655. Oil on wood.





~Through Fantasy~

(Pantoum)





When I am, in one of those mood

I cannot write so I get sad

Still I escape reality if I want it dude

It is through fantasy and its good, not bad.



I cannot write so I get sad

But painting, reading and doing what I like

It is through fantasy and its good,not bad

They keep me happy when this mood strikes.



A Lady Reading a Letter. 1662. Oil on canvas.



But painting, reading and doing what I like

They all bring me so much pleasure

They keep me happy when this mood strikes

And they're treasures I use to my leisure.



They all bring me so much pleasure

Still I escape reality if I want it dude

As they're treasures I use to my leasure

When I am, in one of those moods.







Dorian Petersen Potter

aka ladydp2000

copyright@2010







January 20,2010








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sunglasses

I challenge you, my darling...just to see behind these shades.

I challenge you, my darling...just to rest me in these shaves.

Take me down, as lover,

shame these eyes unlike no other.

Oh, I challenge you to see...



I challenge you, sweet darling...just to look behind the glass.

I ask you now, sweet darling...just to fall me in your grasp.

Look inside, as lover,

tame my eyes just like a mother.

How I challenge you, you see...



Not wasted to the vision...I can see your love that shines.

Sweet light, it's on a mission...and your touch that's on my mind.

Yet darkened by the shatters...I can touch your love so blind.

Come weather all what matters...find the truth you're out to find.








Author's Notes/Comments: 

Metaphorical poem about blind and unconditional love. To see through the jive...and see directly into the heart. One thing about me, I have this kind of love. It is God's love...a most wonderful love, ya know. If you can see through this poem...you will understand the love here. You must look beyond your own love...to see a love that's true.

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Untitled -- 11.15.2009

I look into your eyes
and I look into my soul
guiding me to meet myself
breathe in, open up,
do a run down, let it out
every direction, every action
I see you, your eyes, my soul
all aligned to guide me
to a place of resolution
some type of inner peace
at least an understanding
of the past I can't escape.
In looking in your eyes, I'm closer to freedom
raised burdens, and vacation from fear
the only person that sets me so free
and then one night I see you
eyes all clouded over
unaware of my existence
how you make me feel
without your eyes
I forget I have a soul.

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