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Dominique Baptie Poem
What is this life, this reality?
Why do I question it so relentlessly?
So many moments seemingly meaningless,
meandering through this meaningful sentience.
Chronology…
Continuity…
Spirituality…
But really, Oxford will tell you:
Property of being real, resemblance to Original.
Accountable, in my opinion, only through dissemblance.
What I ask, is it original?
It’s all rather subliminal!
Made up by man and the idealism of 'ideal'.
Be like Budda, be like a tree,
pray to Gods, pray for money.
This will make you healthy, that will make you ill.
Where is the free will in all this obscurity?
What is this substance we call reality?
I beg your pardon, Sir and Madam,
excuse my blasphemy if religion is your reality,
But goddamn, Sir and Madam
It’s outrageous and random,
The idea…
The ideal…
Any idea for that matter!
For what is blaspheme?
Speaking irreverently of sacred things!
But what is not sacred down to a grain of sand?
If all by the hand and will of God,
Or aliens...
Or angels…
Or spark of light,
Let us not in the slight pretend,
to know or name a single thing.
Sacred cannot be named,
Or unnamed…
Or claimed…
And yet it is,
as tangible as anything alive.
Let's not deprive a word as 'sacred',
dictated to be, this or that.
Of all facts I know this fact;
Sacred is as sacred be.
As she walks, as she decrees,
she is ancient, beyond antique,
she is the vessel through which divinity speaks.
Copyright © Dominique Baptie | Year Posted 2018
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Dominique Baptie Poem
It is desire’s fire that frees me from the forgettable
derived from delusion’s wondering eye of dire,
roaming around in squandered robes of pretend,
it offends me…
Idly it bends the very mending of heart’s love
as loves exquisite stitch tries to weave her tapestry
I live in her…I desire her very soul…
as a whole I am absorbed by her in mutual absolute
like the root of an aged tree to the rained ground beneath me
this is we:
Gracious energy like the first touch of your skin,
you within me within love we are free,
beneath my fingertips you feel what my lips don’t speak,
three freaks…you, me and love unique.
Inside your eyes a cascading world is locked in mine
as I find I spiral to the depths of your desire…
that fire that frees me from the forgettable.
My hope exists in and beyond love this way
as I lay dazed in a maize of vivacious bliss
as though a first kiss of deep gentleness yet known…
I am alone waiting to fall.
When love knocks on my heart’s door she will know
through the windows of my wild wanting soul
a new kind of whole let go to the energies of life
as we swing rushing on passion’s wing
like the voice that sings lyrics of hear felt feeling
reeling you in…true believing.
I so crave every piece that exists as your being
seeing beyond just that sexual feeling,
devoured entirely by the way you move,
by the way you move me…
how I feel when I see you feel me
as love is desire’s fire that frees me from the forgettable.
Love bares no chains to those who really see
the exquisite stitch weaved in her tapestry be
her captivating eyes…
Home to her true desires.
Copyright © Dominique Baptie | Year Posted 2010
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Dominique Baptie Poem
I have woken from a dream, holding a key
staring through unopened doors,
at the sleeping dragon curled up inside of me.
On my back, I bare her baby born.
As the dawn breaks, the black ink stains
my name...
her name...
in the name of love,
in the flame of love,
the dragon rose and spawned her wings,
unlocking treasures of unusual things.
And yet, a thousand kisses deep
I feel to reach even deeper still
for a thousand kisses more.
The will...
The rain,
the sun to kiss our skin.
Within my heart, wordless art dances there,
a delicate state of trance I dare to share.
Yet in her eyes,
where I stand a thousand kisses deep,
I weep not for loss, nor lack, nor lust alone,
but for love alone... tender,
sweet feeling of home.
My knees feel weak
as I was yours before our lips did meet,
before our eyes did see the sultry stars,
Our hearts...
Together...
They beat...
A thousand kissed deep.
Copyright © Dominique Baptie | Year Posted 2018
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Dominique Baptie Poem
I never did see a more beautiful expression,
as if all four seasons had exploded,
Imploded, eroded all the somber.
A wonder so delicate...an art she exposed,
utterly unopposed is the dancer's heart.
Animations of vibrations move through her,
a Van Gogh of flow;
like aged, cellared Bordeaux.
Wreathes of wind, sun and soul weave
down around her roots through her being,
freeing sensations into the air
as if with Gaia, a divine love affair.
Eyes drawn and beating heart unconcealed
She wields her radical, energetic shield...
The power to heal, to breathe, to love
above the brilliant sun, the stars, the moon.
Oh, what an orchestrated art in tune!
Spirit calls out to her from Earth,
the birth of sound and soul unearthed.
Oh, what an art I've observed...
The true art of a dancer's heart.
Copyright © Dominique Baptie | Year Posted 2015
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Dominique Baptie Poem
I was drawn here today,
to the quiet woods, to sit and think.
About life, love, fear...
For today it was the only near sense,
compelled towards this delicate space
as I watch those that pace by,
spaced out...
Do they not find the woods fascinating?
Do they not hear the quaint whispers
through the wind, through the trunks?
They do not see me amongst the trees,
and at first, I believe I am alone,
perched on a rock,
gone from reality...
And then suddenly, the butterflies,
they are here floating all around.
In the air doting, dancing, rhythming.
How organic I feel...
How dynamic that living is constantly changing me.
I trip out on life sometimes,
alive at the edge of something else.
Wondering...
Moving...
Breathing...
And in one breath of air, an entire moment,
an entire memory,
a sequence of individuality,
duality...
The oneness of immortality.
How dare such a nature exist!
And fear, she is always persisting,
down in the corner of your binding thoughts.
Bending...
Distorting...
Re-ordering momentum...
Sending you searching across parallels of perception.
And then suddenly this;
An interjection...
The magician...I AM HERE!
As mother, she is calling me near,
speaking of love, of fear, surrender.
I close my eyes to hear what I feel,
to sense the invisible side of real.
As mother's ***** tones circle around,
begging my eyes...
moving my soul...
A key in a hole, some kind of vibrating,
heart resonating...
A serenade of sounds
And love...
Profound...
always, somehow she finds,
opening the doorways to the other side.
Again, I close my eyes, this space,
touching gently against my mind.
Behind these patterns I transform,
shifting...
Metamorphing...
As I've seen what is out there being
and how we hide,
how fleeting it has become.
For inside each an entire universe resides.
Here, in this space between spaces,
we're looking in, and we're looking out.
Through the peculiar, perpetual alive
I feel to shout;
"GOD WHAT ARE WE DOING HERE!"
Down the valleys of existence the voice echoes out,
travelling down, around, in, through, out and again I shout,
"GOD WHAT AM I DOING HERE?"
Sometimes im trembling...
Tasting bittersweet upon my lips
as the unfathomable rips through
my thought inspection...
And then suddenly this,
an interjection...
The magician... I AM HERE
Questioning it all,
using love to open more doors.
Fear...
Love...
The unknown...
This, the inescapable trilogy we roam.
To say we know, finds no base,
for the only known existence be...
That which the magician creates.
Copyright © Dominique Baptie | Year Posted 2015
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Dominique Baptie Poem
I cannot find the words to free this out
To seek and speak the truth that is we.
I feel the galaxy within reside untapped
As a trapped mind collides with soul
Our eyes are blinded from the whole
Why do we hide?
Why do we hide?
At night I lay awake bathing in the day's dream
as a prey without words speaks out of me,
stretching towards the universal beam of love...
And love...a home I feel so far from home.
This sound has become unbearable,
silencing me ill of words yet spoken still.
A breaking spirit, a healing heart,
yet it is out of spoken art we bare our wounds
and pray too sun and moon too soothe.
As the tide of light battles the lies of self,
why do we run?
Why do we hide?
With eyes alone I cannot see,
hold my gaze a moment longer please.
With words alone I cannot speak,
Embrace me, hold me
a moment longer please...
For it is the truth...
That is we I seek.
Copyright © Dominique Baptie | Year Posted 2015
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Dominique Baptie Poem
I've developed a bit of a fetish, dear,
the smelling of objects of a ***** kind.
"*****", the collective perspective of a selected few.
Let me address the subject once more,
select more carefully the words I spew,
Breakdown...
Analyze...
Peripheralize...
Re design,
I could always blame the man on the moon.
Bending our horizons
Breaking our straight lines,
demanding ability of our mind.
It was in the earth of a rock that I smelt my first sound,
perhaps I heard the smell, whichever way round.
Upside down, inside out...
The more ways I look at it, the more life shines light.
The more light fragments my sight.
How wonderful, the array of colours,
have they always been there I wonder as I gaze into the array,
into the sweet bliss of the day.
Day tripping...
Time rippling...
Brain dripping...
Heart flipping..
Tossing words and metaphors;
the sweet whores of definition.
Define, re-define, move some stuff around,
in itself a process so delicately designed.
Intricate elements of another's expression,
exposed on the opposite end...
Juxtaposed!
Yet, out of love, completely unopposed!
Smell this orange, smell this plant, smell this stone
thank goodness this game is not mine alone,
I've passed it on, the smell of sound,
freed from being bound by a single mind.
We could just smoke a spliff on the side of the road,
be exposed...
Remove the clothes of our built-up guilt.
Creative confidence spilt in a display of laughter,
It was indeed...
a beautiful disaster!
Now you are the master once more,
the master of your own disaster,
the birthplace that chaos bore...
The unbound potential of it all!
Does the change of wind move your breath?
Are you moved by the changing breath of wind?
I'm inclined to thinking, dear,
its rather intrinsic,
Synchronistic...
a magic trick I'd say.
And I do say, because I'm the boss of the world,
you're the boss of the world!
We showed them that day,
on the side of the road,
smoking our fat spliff, being deliberately exposed.
It all made sense though, in the end,
when the nose and heart got involved
and the warmth of the shared space of love;
a cloak for the bitter cold.
Here in lies a buried treasure from way deep down in the earth,
unearthed in a single tear shedding fear
as heart vibrations cohere.
In conclusion, dear, these are my perspectives,
acknowledging openly... ^
Their equal, opposite prospective.
Let's crunch numbers to square this all off,
for interest sakes of course.
So, one and one equals eleven,
the first Master Number;
the Illuminator, the Messenger and the Teacher.
Who could have imagined such an extraordinary creature!
Copyright © Dominique Baptie | Year Posted 2015
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Dominique Baptie Poem
My moon shun windows have been unhinged
and a panoramic mind binged on self deplore freed
Indeed by the defined journey I’ve moved through.
Through you the miraculous reflections of self-love I find
once blind, now bare to the rendezvous of this world,
of sound mind I realize my every breath is filled
as I am willed towards the prodigy I feel around me
I breathe…
and life is seethed by the seed that we breathe.
My solo soul drum beats its pure sound
of unbound rhythms found above ground as I stargaze
my eyes glaze over raving in shimmering light,
feeling every word that I write authenticated,
painted across my heart untainted…
I aspire to be a living love…
and I breathe…
as life is seethed by the seed that we breathe.
I am not alone with thought as I walk,
wobbling along the road of existence I implode
knowing another heart in hand senses what I feel
as though the wheel of vitality destined it to so be…
so it be…
A waterfall of awakening spirit I drink its sugary taste,
mingled around my space…that place you give me,
and a gift I graciously give to you…
my undistorted expression undressed I stand astonished,
forgiving regrets I’ve gathered on my shawl of shame
as if a new name within my name has unearthed me
and I breathe…
as life is seethed by the seed that we breathe.
The bird of dreams sang to me one morning I woke,
invoked in me the music I once spoke without doubt,
and now as you attract me out from my hiding place,
leave your unforgettable trace amidst my days
I find new ways to stroke my pen across this page…
Uncaged…an aged energy of new I feel within you
and I breathe…
as life is seethed by the seed that we breathe.
Copyright © Dominique Baptie | Year Posted 2010
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Dominique Baptie Poem
Behind my desk of daily duties, I hide obliged,
blind in perceived intent in days debilitating me,
grinding relentless against my need to find meaning.
My bleeding mind leaning against my breaching heart,
preaching intent I cannot grasp.
I gasp for a breath of substance of a sort,
distort in my own demand of dithering paths,
like a slithering mole sniffing the trodden ground,
drowning in my intentless surround.
My splotched mind now fired up on a frigid stove,
an imposter, a trove dug up and claimed,
framed...
As thought the picture of perfect suffering is rule
I plunge…
Posing in intent’s pool I seduce my own pseudo smile
and all the while spirit leaks from my soul.
This hovering abandoned hole day in and day out
I’ve filled with doubt of a truth led astray the stars,
as hardened scars plow my unburied grave
like the brave face I wear disgraced.
My life…
Misplaced...
This space of intentless surround.
Random occurrence pounds and pierces my felt fate,
my soul mate of self-sacrifice awaits.
As choice’s debris freezes my will to incite,
I back down …
From a fight I should fight with formidable fury
as the only jury be my yearning destiny freed,
as self-sacrifice waits for me.
Copyright © Dominique Baptie | Year Posted 2010
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Dominique Baptie Poem
Over the tarred road lies a land we seldom search
of whispering winds through sugarcane hills.
Spills of sunlight chilled on butterfly wings,
carrying me graciously through the open space
as my heart’s bass beats to the insect's sound...
the freedom of the hills is unbound,
wild...
like the sunflower’s yellow to the sky,
trickled water marks over the dry stream bed,
out here...
even the dead is still alive.
Sugarcane butterflies of mad colours bristle
through the breeze that whistles around my limbs,
as whims of flying invade my soul...
persuade my heart to melt out into the day
and rediscover what it is to play.
Without dwell...
Earth’s love swells and grows my mind,
finds that sparkle that finds my smile
as I am left fertile in the land that surrounds.
Noises of the tarred road are drowned by the depth,
by the breath of the tree leaves that rustle,
the birds that bustle about the deep, green valley,
vitality...
Out here, is rich like pure honey without dime.
Just life...
Just time...
Existing as it should,
could this be magic misunderstood?
Copyright © Dominique Baptie | Year Posted 2011
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