Short Escapism Poems

drinking in the park 
trapped between past and future 
owl hoots chidingly...

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daydreams self-contained

escapism crawled and creeped

daunting nervousness...

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I check out loads of books... stack after stack
For: 1. Escapism, plus 2. Get my life on track!...

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Star poetry soup
delves deep in one’s inner self...
star cross escapism.

© Harry J Horsman 2012...

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if we seek release
demons of our mind will haunt
even after death

14-October-2021
...

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Some savor living distressed; love dejection-Munchausen syndrome
accustomed to attention, adoration; playing-victim- energy vampires
adore escapism, douse in self-pity, darkness;-sorrow...

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Houses on parade
Guards to civilisation
A great divide between man and space
Escapism opposed to reality

Sentinels stand at either end of street
Neighbourhood watch
Dangerous tongues gossip
Prepare for another onslaught...

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More to the point
What is your crack pipe?
In the heavy storm
Of getting a grip
On life
One could be excused
For looking for a way out
An escapism
Some people keep busy
Some people spin out
On all sorts of things
So
Where is your crack pipe?...

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Escapism beside the water’s edge, as misty dawn awakes 
Great crested grebes, dressed to impress, elegantly pass me by ~ 
I took the bait – gullibly distracted from encroaching on their morning feast.


15.10.19
F F I series 29 sijo  - Brian Strand...

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unable to identify
with cacophonous din
caused by stuporous minds
we take shelter in silence
aglow with light of God

perhaps it is escapism
as we search for rainbows
yet to manifest in the blue sky
which are already created
in the cave of our heart...

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THE SWEET DARK
SILENCE
ENRAPTURES ME
I SEEK COMFORT
IN THE ESCAPISM
A BLISSFUL JOURNEY
I CREATE A WORLD
FAR BETTER THAN THIS
AS REALITY CRUMBLES
IN MY HANDS
IN THE MIDST 
OF THE RUBBLE
I HAVE ONLY MY DREAMS
CLOSER AND CLOSER
I AM DEAD TO THE WORLD....

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Oh fragile escapism
Here you are again
I’ll wash your bed sores
If you’ll cry my name.

And in the dark of night
Its sticky tarred surface
Swallows me whole
I am one with the abyss.

Strange creatures call
Angry with the night
Covering their scars
Guilty with their plight....

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This life is my life
Why is this my life
So I shout YOLO 
Maybe I'll try van life
Cause escapism
And romanticizing 
Are all that's really driving me

And maybe one day
I'll really do it
I'll quit my job and
I'll get right to it
Because they told me
That time is money 
So right now I'm rich as I can be...

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A miraculously flat prison
A site of utter allocution
Bearing witness to decision
Beholding not of retribution
Conversations with it an act of utter futility
Covering does not instill a sense of humility
Dimensionally free 
Damning still is thee
Efficacy is still eluding
Escapism found brooding
Finally, a simple pathway to contrition
Fracture this mirror, my final decision...

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Engulfed in pain,
abyss of yearn,
lifetime punishment for loving you.

Eternal connection,
shattered in an instance,
consort became strangers.

Wretchedness shackles my feet,
freedom, I seek.
To live anguish free,
afar from escapism.

Remnants of union up in blaze,
turning to ashes,
returning to universe,
in the stillness of time,
to abide infinitely
amongst the stars....

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Sometimes it's hard to welcome changes
And learn the art of letting go;
It's only fortune that arranges
And doesn't even let me know.

I need the key to solve the riddle
And make the scattered pieces fit;
I'm stuck somewhere in the middle
Between your truth and my deceit.

The answer's got, yet I'm not trying
To find the question that relates;
Escapism of my denying
Reveals the World Oblivion's gates....

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Down with pessimism
  Drown not in negativism
Beware of escapism
  Steer clear of cynicism

Keep far from fanaticism
  It only invites antagonism
Too lonely is monasticism
  Too stifling, collectivism

Failure dogs perfectionism
  Emptiness mars materialism
Insularity deadens catechism
  Stoicism breeds fatalism...

True, this poem is full of criticism
  ~ But it ends on a note of optimism...

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Sometimes I am gone

 to places out of reach,

 far beyond. Out there

 in the vast yonder my

 mind drifts to a peaceful

 place. Uplifted on swift

 wings of the eagle. Taken

 nowhere in particular just

 escapism in my own head.

 I haven't even left my bed.

 Now I ponder this life walking

 through valleys so lush and

 green. What a glorious scene,

 an amazing sweet dream....

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Escapism
Not possible 
Now, and half a 
Lifetime over. 

Your hauntings 
Cannot be eradicated 
Until I get what
I want. 

Eyes brown, 
Watered down. 
As you continue
to hide from me. 

Tail between
your legs, something
I've seen before. 

Mirroring you
is a misguided
priority until 
I release you. 

I refuse to 
Undo this knot
And your tongue 
tied and twisted

I continue this
futile quest
for restoration....

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The world being what it is 
Many resort to escapist fiction 
to soften the blows 
The television brings us news 
of foolish statements by our leaders, tragedies and gruesome crimes
No harm is escaping to Middle Earth, Barsoom or Chelm
The mythic lands still draw
Everyone does not like excapist fiction 
But for those of us who do 
There are new worlds to discoverd 
new vistas - new horizons
New heroes anad heroines
Just around the next corner...

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You don't want to see her
when she hasn't had her fix.
You can't speak to her
when she hasn't had her fix.

She sings razor words
with a tongue
like a spike.

Antisocial descendant 
of a proud womb.
Avoid conversation
and avoid oneself.

Lady sees it
Lady breathes it
Lady needs it
like a beast in heat

And her cravings
lead to raging
and castrating
the world that she sees.

She loves her man
She is in love with escapism
But I'm still here....

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A flickering spark between you and me–
     grating of steel on steel and I shall flee!
When my opinion is not valued, and my way not chosen,
     I feel my blood hot—then becoming frozen.

Flee from conflict, flee from differences;
     Flee from everything when comes hindrances!

I will live in my box, so shallow and cold,
     and avoid every burden and shake off every load;
so here I sit smugly and never grow,
     rooted as a weed—never fruit to show!...

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Despite the fact my heart will thump,
or wind will whip, or trees will creak,
I'll ignore the sounds and voices and shouts.
The people are loud and my head is desperate,
so I'll muffle the noises and listen intently.
It's not a chime anymore, it's a whisper.
The idea of it is gentle and warm, but accompanied by fluttering.
Escapism is a whisper, and the jailer is a shout.
Freedom and wings go hand and hand; my back is bare.
I'll make the wings myself,
I've done it before....

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