politicalactivist

Transcendence (And Body Politic)

 










Transcendence (And Body Politic)

 

 

 



Her guises were stripped off

Like paint;

 

I had wondered where she could 

have gotten to—to act like a saint

 

The earthquakes have multiple meanings, after all:

 

There are moments of truth. 

But our attitudes, in facing them, such are several.

 

Why should we try to act on certain

situations, just to make us huge?

 

Her views of change mattered to

me, for lacking subterfuge

 

'Tis so raw, so fresh, 

so debilitatingly godly

 

When fake media is stressed, let all

disdain blasphemy.

 

Are we just spirits in human bodies,—

in the physicality?—

 

 

For, when— it makes it clear,

our true selves gather up

a multitudes' spirituality!











Author's Notes/Comments: 

(Reedited hashtags, by adding only the following key words:  Foucault, biopwer, body politic),


"Transcendence (And Body Politic)", w/c is also an affected poem, previously titled "Transcendence", is a repost from my Twitter platform (inevitably composed on April 29, 2017/at around "06:58"...based from the deemed quirky causes & that perhaps had sprung from thoughts of a possible love interest (rather assumptive [on my part] & my motivations were unclear; thus, a type of a poem like this was done).  Also, I had edited this version (a little bit by modifying the use of punctuation marks & perhaps the stanzas/form, those were minor tweaks).

 

 

An Escapist's Poem (Dedicated to the Leaves/previously "Ode To Escapists")

 

 











An Escapist's Poem

(Dedicated to the Leaves)





We always pick the flower for no

Good reason,

Like an insect from a plant,

'tis steady 'til—gone!


We always had seen the sky

Like 'tis the glorious blue color

Then we often see how clouds move.

Something we remember


Now that our lovelorn past had

Paid its price, in this moment—

We falter, we forgive, we abnegate tomorrow

For our precious accident


We learned to measure strength and

Weakness in terms of cordiality;

Lest we may never go home,

Midstride, to the forlorn eternity!


 

 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Reedited 07.12.2019 (Grammar correction:  This is written - This *was written...)

 

 

This was written while engaged in a Twitter application/platform discourse.--It is an edited version.  The following is written on April 30, 2017 w/ the actual approximate time & subtitle, as follows... An Escapist's Poem (previously "Ode To Escapists")  [01:02] (an affected poem, dedicated to the leaves).

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