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 |   All that remains: here in my afterlife as a 'mainstream' blogger, with what little I know. |
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The Idiotic Ideate?? Formerly: New Zenith To Hell…(all started with arc as writer here from the trials of Rising Stars to Preferred Author to WDC Quills Best Poetry Collection to the falling action I feel now that settles in a white case.) Got to hustle to preserve the best of me before fully fading on that virtual horizon glowing more brilliant with each passing day to permanent nuclear winter. if people don’t get it, I don’t need to explain it. We kill all that’s beautiful before we question it’s purpose. So many people find it easier to think in the black and the white. God forbid you get lost straying in the gray. "Whoever fights monsters should see to it…he does not become a monster.” I’ve been to the abyss and back. Not so bad. The loneliest happy person you'd ever meet, when not the saddest person who needs to be alone. In an ever-changing world, we need to handle topics at the ready. If you roll over and give in to the narrative without lending a voice of your own, you might as well hand over your civil liberties. We have voices that should connect to true conscience and spirit for honest and open discourse. Why feel so redacted? Unify on issues and put drama aside. Open minds require complete objectivity. If none need apply, question the unbendable sources for answer. If you knee-jerk react to every issue lurking out there that clutches your neck, you fall victim to your own ignorance born from a life of apathy (no doubt) in pathetic cries of injustice. Just writing what I feel without the narrative-altering mind f---ing with my head. [MY Chorus] In your house, I long to be Room by room, patiently I'll wait for you there, like a stone I'll wait for you there, alone "It amazed me how truth was often suffocated in minutes, but lies were given sufficient air to breathe indefinitely." "You are all better than you think you are, you are just designed not to believe it when you hear it from yourself." ![Merit Badge in Second Time Around Contest
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Congratulations on winning the Grand Overall Prize in [Link To Item #2164876] with your beautiful poem, [Link to Book Entry #933358]. This poem really moved me. Great writing!
Rachel *^*Heartv*^*](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/group-Second_Time_Around_Contest-2164963_14.gif)    "...lasting art is never anything more than a mathematical expression of the relations that exist between the internal and the external, the self [le moi] and the world." -Jean Metzinger I'm in love with carefully chosen words, arranged just so, audible, edible, to inhale. I attempt to post new poems and epiphanies daily with some links to what inspires. I am legally blind with a rare, genetic form of glaucoma. I'm described as "end stage" after two successful surgeries, still subject to further vision loss. Cataracts complicating matters. Writing Can get strenuous but seldom deters what yearns to emerge, despite a documented history of depression and recently diagnosed ADHD and undefinable social disorders and/or PTSD. My recent poetry:
Sometimes epiphanies about my insights on writing and life and what goes on... Making sense of life is maddening. Why do I need to know, when truth may not actually exist? Learning to accept would be a better pursuit? Flailing about in my own mediocrity, hoping to bust out. I am visible. You can put a face with a name. I would like to see other writers, too. Fiction is what you write, not who you are. Reinventing myself. I couldn't continue on the path I was on and needed a fresh start. This time around I want to put the focus on writing and the world outside of this community as it affects my life. I realize now that I have been baring my chest a bit more, as when young. fake me much more boring and unliberated than the real me. A world arriving as silent as that blossom in your garden that I told you about... |
| Writing lyrics again. Yearning to create music once more. I've always had this fire in me, just never found the right time to go after it. Maybe, I never will. Always looking for an encouraging word, another sign, until I have enough evidence. Always putting clues together, but everything remains a hypothesis for what I should do. Listening to Chris Cornell Sing Is it so hard to believe at 6 AM, sitting at your breakfast table? The coffee is cold like the words unsaid on your tongue, yet you can still dream. Is it so hard to feel when you're alone sitting in the dark? No desire for the radio bleeding? Yet, you can still dream. Close your eyes and see. Is it so hard to live? She's gone from here, but her scent will never leave -- her light, haunting eyes that once helped you believe. Yet, you can still dream, if you close your eyes and see... Of course, that is not the title...subtitle, maybe. Piecing together my feeling for music and pairing it with life to see if there is enough emotion to make sense of reality. Playing a game with words in my head instead of dealing. Wish I could write music. Writing lyrics to songs I loved brought me here. I'm masquerading as a poet. Music and singing have been my life long passion. I've only been able to share it through writing up until now. BONUS LYRICS just riding the train and jotting down words emerging from my head... Not Who I Was Meant To Be I am the man in the mirror, just not the man I see. They were successful in changing me But suddenly I see...and I can feel what's rising inside of me. If I put myself out there, maybe I'll find me. I will greet you with a smile, firm handshake, but immediately you see...and I can feel messages your eyes are sending me. This is not who I'm supposed to be. Caught in a game I wasn't meant to play. Meant for more than this, repulsed, I suddenly know...and I start to think I need to slay the emerging monster. It's not too late, while I still have breath. Dismantling the machine after I take care of myself, but immediately you know...and now realize this brain cannot be toyed with. This was not who I'm supposed to be, and it's going to get ugly if you don't acknowledge, back off, not who I was meant to be. Not going to edit that one just yet. Need a break to prep my brain for another trip to gym. Crank the Rage! |
| Ride To School...A Poetic Moment Snowflakes from yesterday's flurries flock, skitter; vivacious, wild troops reforming, disbanding, rejoining in flowing concentric patterns away from me, faster than I dare drive, visor down, with the milky, orange lamp glaring, daring me, dimmed and sliced into spotty, pulsing rays by disrobed, unruly masts. As I navigate the obstacles to my visual delight, my co-pilot pleads not make a poem of this moment on his ride to school. I started out wanting to comment on how snowflakes don't know their fate like happy children...seemed too depressing to go down that path. Just really fun to see them playing, waiting for more snowflakes to arrive to begin the winter season. Was playing with the words outloud in my truck when my son implored me to stop making up poems. I was just inspired by the moment, nature, that big, round sun that wanted to obscure my appreciation, though it was equally as beautiful. I could be a writer, I think. |
| Something I wrote after watching a music video that I am not going to edit, just yet… Life, if not Love By BKCompton I reach to touch your hand but it's already gone I heard your song Another thud against our window Unmoved, I know it's another sparrow Couldn't pass through here And will it die? I don't even know Your song ended You were never near I love, I fear Merciless, death claims another Dead in our bushes or on the doorstep to be swept aside when I go out to search for you again Why do I fear I've lost without ever trying Somewhere you're crying Autumn came while you sang Clinging, tender leaves wet from rain want to remind me of loss and all the days you were alive Why don't I cry anymore? Somewhere you hide I'm dead inside I only hope the mindless sparrow lives If not for me, then for you. |
| Hindsight is great and all, but without do-overs what's the point? Learn from our mistakes? How about bound to repeat them? You can have a positive outlook on life, but if you don't find the right situation(s) and surround yourself with the most suitable cast of characters, you're delusional scenarios for a happy life will not come to fruition. I'm not sad about that. I'm becoming a pragmatist and putting focus on the things that give back to me. Family, sports, a few hobbies, but not much else these days. As I get older, I look back at what I missed out on...what is in the past can never be. The shadow of time has lapsed into darkness. I'm spending less time thinking about what I don't have and what I have left to give. I could take up drawing and painting again. But, I have been mostly about instant gratification. Writing is my passion. But work ethic is low on my list. I have lots of great ideas and a lot of dust crowding out that chalkboard. I don't have friends in my everyday life and can't get enough time or attention from my wife to give me the kind of input, motivation, cheerleading that I desire. I need too much. Probably why I feel abandoned by friends. I accept that. It doesn't bother me. I'm a lifelong confessional writer...too real for most. Yet, not honest enough with myself...until now. Haven't been able to tone down my emotions enough in casual conversion. I turn to clowning around, a penchant for word play and observational humor to feel a connection with those willing to offer a laugh or smile. So, I do need human contact like medicine. I desire it more from those who can be like a drug. Like always, I start these blog posts with one thought and follow it with more words to see where it leads. No conclusion seems apropos, though I believe all these open conversations with myself are leading me somewhere. Though, like a dog, I tend to chase my tail. But, I'll eventually tire or need to eat or something else will distract me and I'll be down the street after a car, digging up the neighbors bushes or trying to bite a kid on his bike, because it's all a game. I'm a dog. I seldom think about consequences until I've been snouted with a newspaper enough times to know where I shouldn't pee. Okay, then...(humor, again) |
| Fun new tool I found on the Internet to help me with redundancy. I used it to see what words I use the most and get more analytical with my writing. Maybe this link can help others looking for a different way to improve their writing: http://www.writewords.org.uk/word_count.asp Have fun! |
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In the Falkland Islands, internet is very limited and very expensive. The place I'm currently staying only lets me use it in the middle of the night, so when I have to get up at 3 am to check my texts (no cell service to the US here unless I'm on the internet) or WdC, I don't do nearly as much as I used to. 
I currently have 2 very long emails I still need to get to from several days ago. Anyway, I miss everyone, but I also miss sleep, so there's that. 
Have you spoken to the doctor about your vision problems lately? I know there are special glasses for it because I have to wear them to read much ever since the brain injury. It's part of why I now only listen to audiobooks instead of reading regular books. It took 8 years for anyone to diagnose it because I have a brain injury and while one might think it would be obvious to me that I see double, it wasn't. Partly, my brain does a fair job of compensating. But also, partly, you use your brain to realize and understand that the 2 images you constantly see are double vision and something you should mention to your eye doctor. Since my brain was damaged, even basic things like that can escape me. 
I never once thought to mention it, even with annual eye exams in the Army and an exam every 2 years at the VA. Though, in my defense, since it happens in something like 41% of people with a brain injury, it should have been discovered by an eye doctor much sooner. 
I know doing that activity is a CRAP TON of work. But you made a difference in lives, not just his, but for all the people he's reviewed since. 
Well done! 
