Your Dream,
to be immortal?
Can you make
the sacrifice?
Living on the blood
of others,
often feared
never loved.
Banished by God,
no need of Satan.
Never to see the morn
or measure the sun`s chariot.
Nights spent flying
stealthy--preying.
A woman alone
at night--
shining to me.
I alight,
become a nightmare.
Count Vlad Tepes
From "CARRIE" ; Book Two of "VAMPIRE"
C 2005 Deabler, V.T.
It comes
equal measure
signposts
road shortening....
Exits taken
lovers met
road shared
counted times......
Darkness falls
morning breaks
endless road
sometimes seems.......
Preparing
journey`s end
heart is locked
vision forward.......
only dust
and dreams
remain........
V
C 2005 Deabler, V.T.
The Second Celebration
Faintly,
A whisper,
A year passes.
Our garden
blossoms;
butterflies and
bees
industrious,
sipping,
offering sustenance.
Photos,
Graphics,
Poetry,
Our lives.
AOL Journals
a symbiosis
of creativity.
V
c 2005 Deabler, V.T.
The arias when Rudolfo and Mimi first meet are, for me, the most beautiful, most romantic. I wish I could share the music with you.
"Che gelida manina" Rodolfo [second stanza]
Who am I? I`m a poet.
My business? Writing.
How do I live? I live.
In my happy poverty
I squander like a prince
my poems and songs of love.
In hopes and dreams
and castles-in-air.
I`m a millionaire in spirit.
But sometimes my strong-box
is robbed of all its jewels
by two thieves; a pair of pretty eyes.
They came in now with you
and all my lovely dreams,
my dreams of the past,
were soon stolen away.
But the theft doesn`t upset me,
since the empty place was filled
with hope.
Now that you know me,
it`s your turn to speak.
Who are you? Will you tell me?
Mi chiamano Mimi Mimi [first stanza]
They call me Mimi,
but my real name`s Lucia.
My story is brief.
I embroider silk and satin
at home or outside.
I`m tranquil and happy
and my pastime
is making lilies and roses.
I love all things
that have gentle magic,
that talk of love, of spring,
that talk of dreams and fancies----
the things called poetry....
do you understand me?
V
Loneliness
an active art,
not so easy
on the heart.
It must be nurtured
given life,
too much love
there is no strife.
You must guard against
involvement,
on obsessions you depend,
disallow the pangs of
solitude,
it`s depression that`s your friend.
V
c 2005 Deabler, V.T.
IN Divine Child, a wonderful post on Freud and sublimation in Theresa Williams Journal, Theresa responded to my comment by asking me to expand it, maybe in a journal entry.
In this time of the 2nd Anniversary of AOL Journals, it is also a way of expressing why I so love the people here who give so much of themselves. All of us are true artists here in AOL J-Land.
The road of the artist is a heroic one. From gifts of heredity, from life experience, [s]he has been left with a vulnerability to understand existence. Like all human beings, the artist narrows his world using all the typical substrates of repression, yet unlike most, his[her] world is not so easily ordered. Freud`s instincts to Eros [immortality] and Agape [death] are not so conveniently repressed for him[her]. They continually infringe upon his[her] consciousness, driving him[her] to depression [despair] or to the creative solution. The artist attempts to transform Eros to self expression and Agape to self surrender.
As Becker writes, "To renounce the world and oneself, to lay the meaning of it to the powers of creation, is the hardest for man to achieve- and so it is fitting that this task should fall to the strongest personality type, the one with the largest ego."
It is this need that drives the artist to the defensive posture of sublimation, which Freud defined as the single defensive posture without neurotic implication. I`d like to present one of my poems that attempts to address the artist`s difficulty in verse.
DEATH
Death is that which hovers
wherever people are.
That knowledge of our finiteness
that makes us human
and produces our neuroses,
is also what drives us to write,
and all our attempts at immortality.
V
Does a rose
have a radiance within?
Does the sky
smile at you
warming in itself?
What moon exists
without shadowing
your beauty?
What soul can
live alone,
after the touch
of your smile?
V
c 2005 Deabler, V.T.
