Journey of the Dissident

Pour poison on the brain,

Losing my self-control again;

I’ve been away too long,

I don’t recognise these shores,

Yet I was born and baptised in them.


Now I’m drowning in Aquarius eyes,

And choking on pearl tears,

Building something out of nothing,

Erecting an obelisk of all my thoughts and fears,

A spiralling story, shrouded by the clouds,

Threating to crush me at the beginning of a storm,

Knowing the beginning, but the rest is never-ending.


I’m a stranger in my body, reaching for control,

My mind was once my nemesis,

A place to refuge,

My body is now a vessel,

To champion my greatest glory,

A tapestry that changes from perspective,

To stitch and sow into flesh: ever so permanent.


Dissident marches on a limp foot,

Sheltering from electric thoughts;

Carved imperfections, a beauty to behold,

Freedom is a conquest with consequence,

Imprisonment for truths yet spoken,

True victory is to know that there is belief in oneself,

A catalyst for rebellion: the message is sewn. 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This may seem dijointed, but I think it's came together nicely... I'm on a new path in life, so tried to convey that.

Orange Little Ball

An orange little ball,
Tattered and torn to bits,
No longer does it fly straight,
Its course lost, its path in fits,


An orange little ball,
Sad within its cracks and in its creases,
Faded bumps, its lost its grip,
It now falls to pieces,


Orange little ball,
Come to death smiling,
Never live just to die,
Happiness lives in and amidst the crying,


Orange little ball,
Wipe the tears away,
There is peace to be found,
In and amongst the fray.

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Abdul Alhazred


Alhazred was born in Yemen,
Traveling in the known world;
Amassing lore and legend,
And the tales of the fiends.


A writer and a poet,
He was educated much.
Geometry, algebra, Alchemy
And magickal incantations' need.


From the cup of occult knowledge
He drank deep...
Driving a normal person
To madness or beyond.


Alhazred was once a normal man,
With desires like we all can.
He was Arab by birth,
With a pale skin in rebirth.
Being labeled the mad,
As he was once a dad.
But had to eat his child,
By the King of the Palace's might.


He wrote down the Necronomicon,
In more than one song...
The obscure, the forgotten,
The suppressed, the rotten.
Never meant to be read;
It causes insanity with speed.
Not interpreted rationally,
The thoughts cause a rally.


Alhazred was insane,
By the lore he learned within.
But he wrote clear,
With many a tear.


The state of the Universe,
In reality suspense;
Plaything of mad gods at best,
Sewer of evil in the north, south, east, west.


Humans dare not dream of this,
For their peaceful lives they cannot miss.
A warning and guide this book is,
And by the Djinns you do wish.


Alhazred died, not a mystery,
It is written in history.
In the marketplace,
He was erased.
By the Demon from beyond,
Who wanted him gone.
Blood upon the sand,
There he was banned.
In broad daylight,
With many a sight.


He meddled with evil things,
With beings with wings.
He is now dead,
After he bled...

Author's Notes/Comments: 

A poem about the Mad Poet.

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Poet, Speak! or forever be silent


a poem is the funeral pyre
of pulsations, once exhumed
but now still present;
fueled by the flame of our
rue-filled memories

a poet is the gathering together
of thought and hope
that intermingle with the
burnished trim of
a late afternoon sky

and poetry is a dream
garbed in bilious words
whose raiment is laced
by meandering verse and
be-jeweled by barely parted lips:

It takes but a whisper
to free the wandering soul.


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We Never Met


We never met but I Believe we met in another Life.
Your image gives me Hope and Light in my Darkness Nights.
The sound of your Voice makes me feel that Everything will be alright.
I think of you often and how Life would be.
You and I Together for Eternity.
The Touch of your Hands and your Lips against mine.
How this thought alone makes me Tremble inside.
If we Ever Meet I must admit.
My Heartbeat would Increase seeing you near.
I will mumble my words for I will be Nervous to even Speak clear.
Please know my words of Passion will always be Sincere.
Fear is not to Fear but take a leap of Faith.
We are Destine to meet and therefore I ask of you to Believe.
While we are in Different Countries and a Huge Body of Water apart.
It Won’t be Easy to Reach you but this Poem is a Start.
Life can be Difficult and Even more when Someone has your Heart.
I only ask you to take part on what could become of us.
There is no promised tomorrow so live each moment as it comes.
Let me take your Hand and Lift you Above your Dreams.
While it seems like this all could be a Dream.
Some Dreams do become a Reality.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Dedicated to: Marina S.

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A Shard of Moonlight

In common daylight,
Words become opaque baubles,
Corruptible shells,

Cease to ignite—
The Poet, then, must restore
Their lambent brilliance,

Their supernal flame,
Till they sparkle in the night,
Explode in starlight.

In the Poet’s lines,
Old words burn on touch of lips,
Light the world within,

Reclaim their implacable radiance
To show a world in a shard of moonlight.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This poem combines the haiku form with the fourteen lines of the sonnet--a poetic marriage of Eastern and Western traditions.

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BROKEN DREAMS (Alliteration/Rhyming Couplets)


~Broken Dreams~
(Alliteration/Rhyming Couplets)

Sharp light falls angrily,
baleful summer entombs bleakly,
As concrete vessel sighs completely,
and vibrant life crashes hypocritically

Uniform dreams craves caressingly,
tribal battle-axe stoops suggestively,
As vestigal coma crashes dazzlingly,
and a broken light languishes sleeplessly

Broken dreams shrieks caressingly,
gray coma nags uncomfortably;
As deliberate creationism dies expectantly,
and soundless enticement capitulates finally

As a drunken light sheds thinly
and broken dreams sighs sullenly!

Dorian Petersen Potter
aka ladydp2000


IT GROWS (My Style)


~It Grows~
(My Style)

Hope grows
In heart that's so
Within me there's a song
I've waited for this for so long
My heart the Lord knows it so well
Love for Him He can always tell
I've waited for this so long
Within me there's a song
In heart that's so
Hope grows.

Dorian Petersen Potter
aka ladydp2000



"My style" is a poetry created by Dorian Petersen
Potter on September,22,2011.

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~Two Pictures~
(Mini Glosa)


Two pictures on an ancient wall
In the grand Florentine Hall


Two pictures on an ancient wall.
One shows a fair girl who looks like a doll.
This picture is very old and kind of tall,
The other one in comparison it's not that small.
Multitudes attend now this art show,have a ball.
Two pictures on an ancient wall.

In the grand Florentine hall.
It attracts and fascinates the eyes of all.
The other painting showing the young man is fine.
He shows magnificently in his ancestral castle scene.
Both paintings hang now side by side
In the grand Florentine hall.

Dorian Petersen Potter
aka ladydp2000