Sometimes epiphanies about my insights on writing and life and what goes on...
Trying make 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 mediocrity, hoping to bust out.|
Read me, don't read me. I'm going to dare you to read anyway.
I update my portfolio page as often as possible. Brian Go there to see new messages. You will always see me. I am visible. You can put a face with a name. I would like other writers to crawl out from under their rocks and post their pics on main pages. Fiction is what you write, not who you are.
I also encourage you to read my notebook, biography and more. I'm always updating, because I am restless.
THANK YOU alfred booth, wanbli ska for the ribbon and continuous support!
My blogging days at Writing.Com began here [FOR MEMBERS] >>>
Where I hide most of my poetry [FOR MEMBERS]. Warts and all, where I bare my chest and try to make sense of my craft.
|Words beg to be written down. So, when I finally finished brushing my teeth, I turned to my iPad. I know the idea behind this. The execution needs work and I just want to sleep. Fresh eyes another time, or maybe never.
Can I come home?
Delusion pounds the sand,
echo in negligent ear
Long shadows, elusive,
again clamor aboard,
shrink beneath sound
Fifty-five years beating,
breathing, chasing with
heavy arms to row
Damaged sails wrap
a warped pole, flutter
no more. Hope drifts
a creaky hull to sea,
searching an impatient sunset
I flee to night
It escapes me
Each morning brings promise
Waves crest, return me
to this place
I cannot go, yet
I wait for the tide
to change its mind
cast me on endless glass
To the yellow incinerator
love savors a bite,
warmed by our nearing star;
masked in violet hues,
still, waiting, maybe,
for one small soul,
but, bleeds dry
dull in the ink,
long shadows sacked
A fading voice cries
Can I come home?
|Making eggs at midnight and this comes to me? It started as a list. How average can we be when we love and how comfortable it is knowing it is typical. I'm going to eat now, fix this later, or not.
As ordinary as oatmeal,
the collared dog that must walk,
like sunshine that was there
when you first got up
still burning behind the mask...
As free as that bird builds
a nest in the garage gutter,
like leaves, gentle, obey the winds
falling, falling, falling down
to your ground
Our lips embrace
Two twigs low,
once swayed in soaring tree,
grows a canopy above,
for two children, three cats,
those hamsters content
chittering like raindrops
in our hearts.
Small hands, tender,
calling, calling, calling
Know innocence, true beauty,
how we heal them
in the night
from bad dreams,
unjustly pained by sickness
where we are safe
to dream. We,
a typical love,
we share our stories together
so others know
how ordinary as oatmeal.
I take inspiration where I can find it. Shine it. Hold it up for you to see it glowing, still growing. Thanks, to thee.
|Today's lesson...I'm a Montague and you are Juliet in her balcony. Though, you might want to know where your beloved Romeo is, you're not really asking when you opine "Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou, Romeo?" The following link makes very clear Shakespeare's intent, though, through the centuries, the rest of the world learned a coined phrase incorrectly...
So, what do you want to ask me now? And, what's in a name? Though, Juliet, it is very clear we are fated, I'm afraid I am a hated Montague and that will never change. Don't reach for that poison, yet. Stay thy blade.
O Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo? Deny thy father and refuse thy name; or if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love and I’ll no longer be a Capulet.
Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this?
‘Tis but thy name that is my enemy: thou art thyself, though not a Montague. What’s Montague? It is nor hand nor foot, nor arm nor face, nor any other part belonging to a man. O be some other name!
|The ratio of hate
is forty-nine to one
You can look it up
for every YouTube video
that should have been
We're obsessed with them
the lonely one(s)
while our voices, unified
in positivity, should be
Hate is so malevolent
it undoes all good
because we let it prey
on our own insecurities
scrawled, scratchy words
drown. Drown their
pointless intended teachings
in a sea of their own
The ratio of hate
is forty-nine to one
You can look it up
Don't underestimate me. I'm just waking up.
|For LuAnne, who never understood our fate...
I witnessed you a thousand feet higher
Blue waters purged blue sky
And your eyes
You lifted me higher
on Sugarloaf mountain
It was not the ore docks,
great steel ships, coasting seagulls
or fall colors that you described
that memory fails to recall,
but your song
on a chill, sunny day
where we paused amid
restless leaves decaying
You cleansed me,
freed me from ignorance,
solitude, gave me hope
that I could love better
someone like you.
|Posting for posterity...raw...
Piano Needs Tuning
No rest for a beset mind
Scanning a dim-lit screen
In the adjacent kitchen
Each discordant key echoes
Off bay windows
into the open area Shared
rests between the keenly measured notes
Plodding along a spectrum of sound
sagging strings resonate inside
an upright Baldwin.
Once rich mahogany, faded by sunlight,
Stained by coffee, marred by the talons
Of unrepentant felines, sturdily depresses
The carpet, not seen in 12 years.
Rolled away once for an errant plane,
The boys favorite when he was four.
Dust bunnies act like mortar beneath
The tarnished pedals now showing their wear.
Music sheets land like his forgotten plaything
Stick out from bench and beneath stacks
Of forgotten melodies since his first lesson.
Markings on the pages more sophisticated
Hinges on bands of notes more erratic
Pages taped together like paper doll cutouts
Dance along the edge, daringly stare at the ground
From the edge of their cliff, never falling.
Their master deftly pushes back each teetering truant
With free hand Without missing those white levers
attached to hammers percussing rhapsodic
rhythms Begging still the piano tuner to tighten lines
For the daring, high-wire act.
How Donald Trump became President
https://briankeithcompton.wordpress.com/2016/11/09/how-donald-trump-became-presi... via @wordpressdotcom
"We never had a candidate before who has no record in public service; a record of enriching himself throughout his life at the expense of others, whether through bankruptcies, his Trump Foundation or Trump University; we’ve never had a candidate who has called into question the integrity of democracy and threatened not to accept the result of the election; we’ve never had a candidate who openly brags about sexually assaulting women and then 12 women come forward saying he did that. Back in 2012, a guy named Herman Cain was the favorite for the Republican nomination. Then three or four women accused him of sexual harassment and he was driven out the of the race. Unlike Cain, Trump brags about sexual harassing women."
the longer I pause
nearing an even tide
I'm prompted to choose
when to push forward
into that good night
It won't matter
what road I travel.
Everything beautiful we yearn has already been perfected...and lost.
|These are the prompts that inspire me. BTW, not a good poem, but love pushing around those words to see what I can do with dreamlike subject...
Eye of God,
In your death throes,
trillion-mile-long tunnel of glowing gases,
A journey I long
Alone, where I belong
Let me penetrate
Your aquarian realm,
Swim in a blue sea of telescopic light,
Disintegrate my limbs
Together, grow strong
Five billion years
Is too long to wait
The final, evolutionary state
Send my heart on arrow
To mythical heaven
Earth rots my organs
Promises death only
Your faint nebula plugs a constellation
Fill an empty container
With unwished dreams.
The image Intrigued and article peaked my longing to know more.
|I always struggled with being labeled as 'different' and then 'sensitive' so I learned to humble myself through self-deprecating humor to gain acceptance...
That did not go well, either. So, I'm a mix of narcissist, self-hater and non-conformist who wants to see the world his way...
These days, I'm indifferent, mostly. But, I can be deeply passionate and opinionated when I'm moved. I reserve those feelings for personal stuff.
|I strategically place flashlights throughout the house. Not the big expensive kind that usually fall apart or give me problems. But the little flashlights you can get at the dollar store that take a AA battery.
I place mine on top of the refrigerator, inside the hallway closet, on top of the dresser and on the shelf above the litter box in the basement.
A long time ago, I wanted to put lights inside of our cabinets and closets. But, having a light you can direct is easier and cheaper, without creating shadows from light pointed straight down. Once, I painted all the shelves in the pantry white because of the difficulty seeing with dark wood.
Also, try to make use of natural light when doing things in the house...during the day! 😄
I'm not much of a reader (these days), but when I do (and write) I use a larger font.
"He who humbles himself will be exalted."
Just trust in God's mercy.
Beautifully worded prayers mean nothing if the heart behind them contains self-righteousness but no real faith or humility. God will draw near to us during times of humble prayer, but if our inner self is haughty as we pray, He will regard our petitions from a distance. Though the Lord is on high, He looks upon the lowly, but the proud He knows from afar. — Psalm 138:6
|Invisible waves reap moisture
They're succor a void
Like warped origami
The spindly laughing children
Sway on indifferent arms
As their subjects
With the recess alarm.
To be edited when I'm rested...
Plunder the air
Temperate, clean molecules
Swarm my head
My body. Pulses
Racing neural pathways
Like basement pipes
Spiral to my toes
Bounce back up.
Wisdom in a cup
Windows couldn't be cleaner
I dream inside
This throbby reverie.
But the wind picks up
Driver blasts a horn
Wake up call
Time portal fading
Into real time
I hear the clock
Tick, tick my life
Restarting as a sigh
Evaporate = cease to exist, desire to die in a perfect moment to preserve one last memory...
Condensate could be used as the thing that keeps him liquid, unable to die, to preserve moment
|I lost 20 lbs. in two years, though feels it's really been since the start of summer. My workout regimen is really paying off. But I've turned the corner into AARPland and don't know how much longer I can keep this up.
The health insurance company through my wife's employer wants the unhealthy people to pay. So, over the last few years I've been forced to meet certain requirements to avoid having insurance premiums jacked up $50 a pay period. They measured BMI (body mass index) and collected data on height, weight and body fat. I trimmed 5% body fat and dropped BMI below obesity level. Feels like I'm still dropping weight, because I move better on basketball court and people who haven't seen me in awhile are remarking about the difference they see. So, it's encouraging and I want to keep trying.
Problem area is my left knee. A doc told me a year ago that I'd be a candidate for knee replacement in three years at this rate. That would mean I'd have to give up the game/running (death sentence 😔) once they repair me. Praying for advances in surgical techniques before my time runs out. In the meantime, I was fitted with a walking brace and I'm using Ace wraps (sometimes on both knees) to reduce stress on those joints. The brace is supposed to keep my leg from bowing. I'm so used to wearing it, would love a mate for my other leg. Puts more strain on my back, but I'm working on posture, too.
I'm getting an overhauled version of me. It will never be as good as the original, but I feel good. I like how I feel after running up and down the court (3 times a week, 2-3 hours a day). I lost my appetite for sugars, drink coffee with butter and coconut oil in it (I heard the Bulletproof coffee doesn't really work, but I think it curbs my appetite and like the taste) and I make sure to hydrate a lot (cutting out soda and juice, etc.).
Pain meds are also a part of my process, as well as gloucosamine for joint revitalization. I use ibuprofen more than Naproxen because I think it works better in short term, but mix it up based on what I'm doing (and I watch the doses to maximize potential without going over in 24 hour period). I discovered Voltarin gel which I can apply directly to stiff areas to reduce swelling and it is safe because it does not affect vital organs.
Ice is very important. Use it when I know I have inflammation that needs to be controlled, and sleep. Did I mention sleep? Workouts are perfect remedy to combat my nocturnal episodes. But, caffeine usage before I play can make me crazy. Cutting out sugars helped. I found a sugarless energy drink and consume it after a coffee. Gets my heart racing. I also know not to go over 400 mgs per 24 hours and come in around 160-200 before I play.
But sleep, it can be an issue. It definitely had been in the past. I suffered from depression most my life. Have small bouts still. I can work through most stuff now to get to sleep. I also have sleep apnea which is being treated with a dental appliance to open my airway. Had to get used to that. The nights I can quiet my mind, I sleep relatively well. But, I get behind on my sleep. My wife says that isn't a thing. But, when I take a pill for anti-anxiety when I have a good window to sleep, it's some of the best rest.
I can go two consecutive days with three or less hours of sleep, be grumpy but function okay until I hit that sweet sleep spot and hit reset button on normality. I find a rested body performs better at basketball, complains less of pain and needs less repair afterward.
That got pretty detailed. Been thinking about that and all the injuries I've suffered and still deal with like tennis elbow and the repaired rotator cuff. And now, the cherry on top: I'm legally blind. I find there are good and bad days with damage to eyes from glaucoma. But, I'm at home in that little gym I've been visiting these past 10 years. I can adapt knowing the game and learning from playing with a lot of the same people.
So, with all the people saying I can't, I will myself to play ball better than I have since 30. I don't know where this is taking me. I want to get the most I can from it, before that knee goes or something else derails my run.