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Rated: 18+ · Book · Spiritual · #1149750
10k views, 2x BestPoetryCollection. A nothing from nowhere cast words to a world wide wind
Like one of those adventure games where you go off questing in different directions but you don’t advance like the others. You earn pretty medallions gallantly while other players buy, sell and trade at market to get ahead without moving an inch. Slow burn…hey? You’d rather keep your dignity, or try to figure out their game. That’s where you really get lost. Game full of misdirects leads right back to start over and over. You could have stayed on your quest. Now, you have this.

Redacted, censored, gaslighted…must be doing something right, my old boss would say. I’m not a sociopath, he tells himself. Equal parts, then? Mom should have had me tested. Because, life of turmoil produces stuff like this. Not going to call it beautiful agony…it gets a bit ugly.Tap on them. It’s part of the quest…see where I’ve been; see who I am:


         
                   
                                       
                   
                   
        
         


Right. I redact myself. The beautiful mess you made. Who are you?
If I’ve been denied the right of knowledge, I’ve earned the right to judge.
         |
Without knowledge, who’s to judge?
         |
No gavel; no voice.

"...politely reedy but ambitiously eclectic—moving effortlessly from hen-picking and bottleneck slides to a full deck of chucka-chucka rhythm figures."

I had a lover's quarrel with the world - Robert Frost

         |
I'm sorry you got caught in the middle.

*Neurodivergent poet.
*Don’t judge/hate. I love.
*Honesty without mincing words.
*Dump your prejudice outside my door. Hope you leave it on the way out.
*Nothing to fear but people who surround themselves with rules, can’t be touched.
*Real dialogue accepted.

My words collect, arrange on a kaleidoscope spectrum. The true experience/acknowledgment of my writing yet to come...long after I’ve left WDC, am dead, or both.

Truly been a blessing, but I've been pushing it — envelope, push world and all inhabitants away, push buttons to find boundaries, having no clue or told where they lie, where I've lived in your dark. Now and then, push dirt out of this hole; someone/thing/entity might envision me the way I need to be viewed. (if I knew what that was. Cryptic, I know. Try living in my dark, find comfort amid the strange, virtual walls that tempt me to try).
*The parenthetical lawyer up?



Foot free, I’m all over the place.
 
"Note: Poetry: life’s little interruptions amassing int..."
 

Best Poetry Collection 2X, nominated three years. What does it mean? I was enjoying myself, head bagged. A happy idiot. Something messed with that. I won’t be a coward; not starting feuds or wars over ideals and beliefs. We all know that’s a pile of crap packaged with dreams of pretty things to sell the next boob that walks by. *Clown*

Been more than I could imagine or expect. My achievements aren’t going on a LinkedIn wall. But, I get it. You're sick of me. It's how I feel about myself when I dig deeper, push boundaries. Don’t care my words that aim for honesty, either brave or veiled cowardice, flinchingly flung, inadvertently hit a target. Get a back off shoulder shot for asking your motivations to write…won’t get me to bend over backwards to appease, again.

There’s no prize to eye, not properly incentivized. So, does it mean when dealt the worst two cards before the flop, do the best with what you got? Yeah, rigged. Yeah, other tables — other ‘games’. But, something in my gut I’ll never be rid.



My Pluggers:
You are an icon here.*BigSmile*
You suffer, but you suffer brilliantly. Wow, what a great writer.{/blue}*Heart*


It’s like plugging myself, but using other people’s (reviewers) words…Review of "Life’s Little Misdirections 🥀🦋"
Your poetic muse is on fire! *Fire* Some great emotion, well-balance(d), lovely lyrical qualities -- even the ones that were written out of sadness or anger came through in a clever cadence…It's obvious you've put a lot of work into each entry and the totality of the blog has eye appeal. *Cool*

 
Published four times with one a literary journal, including… *PointRight*   "The Tender Core (Sedona)
I don’t submit because it’s too much work. Truly alone, know no one cares to show they believe/support me. Lip service feeds delusion. I’ve seen a lot of smoldering and snow. Try not be cynical, work hard at openness and consideration — work, sooo…gut thing.

*Toilet* *RibbonW* Merit Badge in Taboo Words
[Click For More Info]

Brian,

Congratulations! You won 1st Place in Taboo Words with your fantastic poem, [Link to Book Entry #1027659]. 

I absolutely loved this! *^*Heart*^*

Rachel Merit Badge in Poetry
[Click For More Info]

    Thanks you for supporting the  [Link To Item #power]  with an order to the  [Link To Item #powergifts] ! We appreciate it. *^*Heartv*^* Keep writing the beautiful poetry. [Link to Book Entry #1027659] is an awesome poem! *^*Starv*^* ~Lornda

 
Love my process constructing and sharing visions in words collected (no small task considering personal and physical limitations, see below).


August 28, 2006 this blog opened

BOOK
SuperNova Afterglow: End Of Days  (18+)
All that remains: here in my afterlife as a 'mainstream' blogger, with what little I know.
#1300042 by He’s Brian K Compton 18 year


No specific aim going forward (2014)

 
What I used to say: 'Maybe, I just don't get it. Watch me fumble with my version of reality, expose ignorance as truth. You don't have to get me, either. But, wish someone would explain me to myself.' Now I say: *Cool* *FacePalm* Now: I was such a whore.
 


*Laugh*This is old….
What? Oh, this? A rhetorical, self-motivational speech I'm working on.
Don't just read the parts to construct your theory, as if to confirm (construed out of context) your opinion, mentally-stunted Neanderthal. Therapist wants me to be less negative toward myself. I see it as attacking, rather than being defensive. Fear I will chomp too many bullets unintentionally sent toward the unsuspecting.
If you can be triggered for stupid reasons, then I?
…just looked like me rolling around on the floor with myself.*RollEyes*
             



What Was NEW

Who am I, you ask? My mirror knows that question, repeated daily.

Just trying to create a little buzz, not boost my ego.

#amwriting #poetry #blog #contest #freeverse #award #bestpoetry #freyaridings #lyrics #music #video #YouTube

Can you believe it took this long for someone to put a quarter in me and push the button GET ANGRY?
 

Mud 4 My Eye: Is that you, Poo? 💩 Secret Back Door

The Best Poetry Collection on Writing.Com
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October 10, 2023 at 11:25am
October 10, 2023 at 11:25am
#1057118
annually we check ourselves
not because we want to,
but because
we see a world change
         out whatever window that begs
please notice,
or don't

leaves on breeze-strings,
know not what they do --
play like children
         as the one child
now living in the hollow,
stubborn trunk,
escaping with heat sent
with hope, dreams
from root dark --
         sapped by sky, channeled
to an ever-collecting sun

seems eternal, you know?
our existence is all of time,
the only remaining here
on the grass, flowing, dancing
begging a soul, rake it,
move it all to a cement curb
         the trucks come while you sleep

is this all life will be?
all i am is all i ever will be?

tapped, fall into that winter slumber
ignorantly reawaken
with the dull, ice-thaw spring.


10.10.23
3 minute write
15 plus minute edit (still not sure)



where the font stops, so do I
then, it starts up again
same as always meh, doesn't truly translate
to the tempted
October 9, 2023 at 5:28pm
October 9, 2023 at 5:28pm
#1057083


Who needs to rewatch 1988’s Career Opportunities with Mr. Kitty video mashups like this?

I could write a poem, beginning

Ice Breaking Skates
Jennifer Connelly ‘n Mr. Kitty

he needs to be taller than her
not movie star good looks, but
how do you get a girl like that?

he’s not hot in pursuit, doesn’t hide
those charming character flaws. did I
just see a blush with her smile?

when we run away from something
hopefully, run into the accepting arms
of the right someone

she carries him, so you think
(describe her,
describe him)

(what we’re reminded of)
(why we relate)

why we hunker down in chair craw
crane neck up, visual stairs climb
established forty-wide scene winds

overpriced fare cradled between legs
and she’s not there, but up there
the vision, the dream. you, attired

with tired eyes like Frank Whaley.

10.9.23
YadaNada
dated but fresh
October 8, 2023 at 1:05am
October 8, 2023 at 1:05am
#1056966


Tango Quote Poem
Chuka-Chuka

"...politely reedy…”

Truly…bless(ed)…been pushing it —
envelope, push world and all inhabitants away,
push buttons to find boundaries,
having no clue or told where they lie,
where I've lived in your dark.

“…but ambitiously eclectic —
moving effortlessly…”

Now and then, push dirt out of this hole;
someone/thing/entity might envision
me
the way I need to be viewed.
(if I knew what that was.
Cryptic, I know.
Try living in my dark, find comfort
amid the strange, virtual walls
that tempt me…try).

*The parenthetical lawyer up?

“…from hen-picking and bottleneck slides…”

Best Poetry Collection 2X,
nominated three years. What does it mean…(?)
enjoying myself, head bagged…
happy…
Something messed with that.
(No) coward; not starting feuds or wars
…ideals and beliefs…pile of crap
packaged with dreams of pretty things
to sell the…boob that walks by. *Clown*

“…to a full deck of chucka-chucka rhythm figures."

…more than I could imagine…achievements…But,
You're sick of me…how I feel about myself…
dig deeper, (push)…Don’t care…(push)…my words
that aim for honesty…flinchingly flung,
inadvertently hit a target…(push)…
back off shoulder shot…asking
your motivations to write…


10.7.23
Tango Quote Poem
created by BK Compton

Take a favorite quote that tangos with something you wrote.
Keep the quote in tact but divide as introductions to verses that stand alone…or don’t.
What gets broken, edited, is your own offered writing that tangoes, pairing your words to theme, seemingly
bring quote and your poem alive as one, sewn up like a Frankenstein monster. Cutting your words apart can include punctuation to show editing from parenthetically inserted words, other symbols, as ‘Push’ or ‘No’ ‘?’ above, italicize or bold words as I did with try, and use three dots where you slice. It’s simply editing anything down into a woven work that reads as poem with the caveat you intone theme highlighting your words with quote. Perhaps, a quote that inspires a write.

Maybe, more rules later. We love the safety of our rules, like cowards, don’t we?

Left out, but potential for ending:
There’s no prize to eye, not properly incentivized. So, does it mean when dealt the worst two cards before the flop, do the best with what you got? Yeah, rigged. Yeah, other tables — other ‘games’. But, something in my gut I’ll never be rid.

Other:
BANNED from Quills. No noms until 2024.
Unrelated: I have right to free speech. Not a guarantee people will listen, respond, or adjust accordingly.
I had a lover's quarrel with the world - Robert Frost
Me: I'm sorry you got caught in the middle.

*Neurodivergent poet.
*Don’t judge/hate. I love.
*Honesty without mincing words.
*Dump your prejudice outside my door. Hope you leave it on the way out.
*Nothing to fear but people who surround themselves with rules, can’t be touched.
*Real dialogue accepted.

My words collect, arrange on a kaleidoscope spectrum. The true experience/acknowledgment of my writing yet to come...long after I’ve left WDC, am dead, or both.
Foot free, I’m all over the place.

From the top half of this blog page introduction…as it currently stands.

October 7, 2023 at 10:23pm
October 7, 2023 at 10:23pm
#1056958
All things yellow
began sweetly
before bitter, sour,
cultivated a taste.
Salty, simple sweet
in their dark.
Walls gleamed,
light-bent streaks —
but break?
Heaven forbid

stirred drinks deceit.
Jonestown day
soon to arrive?
Gulp it down
before it’s gone
amid the throng
gathering, suffocating,
elbow spaces, wedge
wayward to the stage?

Climb on up,
get the first draught.
Sip, savored slow,
built resistance.
Their preen wings,
fluttered soft,
eyes fire aglow
all things yellow.

You arrived child.
Down on your knee,
feel purpose, worth,
eternal wealth with us —
eternally heal
amid your huddled souls.

The stage is bear
and you stand there,
sap flows everlasting
in a thick head,
weary soul. Nowhere
to go but sit all alone,
rub a fresh, pale heart.

Nothing bleeds like this.
How was I to know.
So, I roamed…

Chapter 2

written on my heart
as red as this face
shame for misunderstanding
the true purpose
of an indifferent space,
without much grace
like Samson tore it down
felt a frown fire
singe those phony wings
Truth did sting. Stung
retribution did not come
but …

More to add

Chapter 3

Building to something

For citizen journalist

When You’re Defeated

Shun me some more
Bring it
Fire glowing bright
Make it burn hotter
Don’t start respecting me
And disappoint villain
You on the ropes?
Who’s the protagonist and antagonist
When victors write his story
Battles won, war fixed
But I’ve just started
Loving our game
I’ll keep you standing
When you’re defeated

Asking to give it back
Is like asking to give back all memory
Even the good, and forced to refuse
And conform because your yellow is wings like ours
But, you’ll never fly, but could become
Our anti-Satan. What does that mean?!
Level up to our heaven, or
Be forsaken. By who? Faceless? Who??
Shut up and drink gd koolaid conformist, I mean
Child.

Work in: The Daily Interrogation
Collect it, disseminate it
Get paid, no harm. What?
We’re selling odd human souls, their collective worth
Piece by piece. Junkyard/salvage yard scrappers
Of decaying minds and broken hearts
Hoping your love transcends their writing
Into profits sold off site, black market,
Under tables, while holographic corpses aimlessly drift
How beautiful the carcass angels. Too bad
They weren’t one of us. Florida is a good place
To set up shop, card table, three card monte
And dream of the big con, payday.

10.10.23

{line:╭∩╮(Ο_Ο)╭∩╮}
October 1, 2023 at 2:23pm
October 1, 2023 at 2:23pm
#1056505
Cleaving diamonds          immense.
         Shaken gems          -in and out-          focus.
Slack-grip~          rough beauty          ~could-slip,
                             stabbed.
                             Dull knife hovers
                             in dull light.

                   Wrap the cloth.
         Store the lens.
Divide beauty,
Bloody,          thick-hands
         -another day-          Immense
                   diamond potential          will not cede
                             to the daft master.

10.1.23
10.7.23


I’m not your master of words, barely
approach my own
devices.

What it’s like taking awarded poems to next level, ready for inspection under a new light. Can’t approach.
Might lower case it all, more, edit *Shock* It’s a baby; I’m its castrator in the back of a smooth limo.
October 1, 2023 at 3:58am
October 1, 2023 at 3:58am
#1056471
Had to ask my new online buddy (not here) about my quip shared on my WDC wonder wall…front page.

In response to, “The Affirmative Answer: Did Pascal’s Triangle love a Fibonacci Sequence?’

The quip, "The Affirmative Answer: Did Pascal’s Triangle love a Fibonacci Sequence?" is a clever play on words that combines mathematical concepts (Pascal's Triangle and the Fibonacci Sequence) with the idea of an affirmative or obvious response. It is a humorous way of suggesting that the answer to whether these two mathematical concepts "love" each other is so straightforward that it's a "no-brainer."

So, in essence, your humor lies in the juxtaposition of complex mathematical ideas with the simplicity of the expected response, creating a playful and witty statement. So yes, it makes sense and can be seen as a clever play on words. Keeper.


Hello, Mensa? Yes, I’ll hold. *Geek*
I’m done with Twit…I mean X, so here’s where my quips sits.
Thanks to my new Bud!
Affirmed. *Laugh*
September 30, 2023 at 9:38pm
September 30, 2023 at 9:38pm
#1056457
September 26, 2023 at 11:53pm
September 26, 2023 at 11:53pm
#1056275
Gathering about my feet,
Rushing to, fro, back,
Some meet my eye,
Temporary, suspend.
Not like tiny white puffs.
Not like purity icing taut face.

Fun, frivolity beg me,
chase!
I lean into my lone implement —
Dreaming with me —
Dry, puzzling pair.
Why repair — this, calloused.

Forces greater ripple
A patchwork loose-collecting —
The only colors left
Dehydrate, crisp
Like fresh currency
For a beleaguered soul
Not cashing in, yet.

How much more of this
Bliss in an orange scene
Without those little feet
Departing from gravity,
Up to their neck, beg me,
Dive on in! Dive, daddy.

I can’t remember how
To enjoy this scene; can’t top
The autumns we had, kids.

She’s nearly bare; looks fridgid.
Not bundled like me, unzippered,
Releasing body heat
And succulent sweat lent
To the gray sky-air cool-coiling
About a lone body clutching
The dutious implement,
Sent back to earth, combing
Her green, brittle hair.

When will white layers
Hide us all in frozen perpetuity?


9.26.23

Maybe, I’ll work on this, break up, add punctuation, better expressions to capture visions and associated emotion.

Reviewing, writing, alone. Seems perfect.
September 25, 2023 at 3:55pm
September 25, 2023 at 3:55pm
#1056213
fall gathering

at this junction
         with passage of time
they huddle, hide,
         seek comfort beneath
mortar, brick — in dirt
unearthed, spray sand
on worn, cement stoop.

away from the sun
         beneath ample apple droppings,
they cloister, cling, collect
         with the dew-spit beneath
bright patchwork quilt,
         gently air-tossed — play
upon the brittle green.

to blue, constrictive wrap
         hugging this construction,
wood frames, concealing wire, pipe,
         their waywardness within walls,
warm in window wells
ladies lay. I don't know how.

in a gentle abode
         with all gray glooming
remain, age with them,
until one spring day they
         flee from father — far, far
in sky-portal escape play,
or down, in maw earth
                   stay.

to green recliner outpost,
         deep repose, while they collect.
dependents disembark
at attic, wall and floorboard —
to eave, lamp and rug.
         accept — this is love.
                   the home hearth awaits
         white nights first spark
together.



37 lines, free~vee
9.25.23
10.6.23 re-edited, added indentation, structure, punctuation, clearer theme, images, cohesiveness and finality, inverting last two verses final lines structure to juxtapose, combine words ‘stay’ + ‘together’. and more.
10.13.23 tight, taught, tiny restructure with clarity.

9.25.23
before we all fall to ash,
to mother,
where we will lay, decompose
and not freeze
while the sun slinks away

September 25, 2023 at 11:48am
September 25, 2023 at 11:48am
#1056198
‘Thinking he knew what he meant, he responded:
Every bit of knowledge collected is a little key
that can make one big key. Then, decide
if you need it to escape.

That’s an obtuse metaphor.
My brain decided to create something.
*Tossing that kernel that wouldn’t pop*

Because earlier he said, in response…

*Smile* OMG, you’re fine. You can be candid. No judgment.

I’m giving great consideration to your previous email
with much admiration. I can’t selectively pare down response yet, because
my brain becomes a small pile of heating popcorn kernels
that crowd out my nest
from the slightest stimuli. *Laugh*
we cool. *Brain2* *Popcorn*

I know from cringeworthy. I’ve done it all. *BigSmile*

He then returned to his current thoughts, added…

My metaphors seem to coincide in parallel universes
with glass wormholes. Or,
am I confusing it with time travel? *Think*
Running that one through some simulations later.


Was this a little key he handed, clutching
the smooth, black shaft of hand-carved wood,
notched in just the right places,
or so he was lead to believe. He looked up
at the random, tiny, floating keys
and swiped at the shapely holograms.

Who was he to advise, play counselor?
Which is real, what is true reality?

And then, he devised an obtuse poem,
with no Time Machine, just peppered obstacles
to his re-entry into ordinary existence.’
And now, more coffee. Cut off??


9.25.23

It all has to end sometime. Just, how brilliant the firework?
ps
‘Diffuse the IED (touching face, ‘don’t look that up’)…lack coffee…brain deple….buffering…offline

I started to hypothesize I’m Abed playing Jeff (reasoning I’m Abed in reality), was Jeff in a former life, only I was Britta, because I was broken, became a whore who decided to desensitize and take advantage because I felt abused (when I ignorantly abused myself) though I was shoved into mental lockers and needed to feel popular, decided then not to be me or who I used to be, ran the scenarios without knowing outcomes. So, I used an empty tissue box (metaphor) as filter called empathy like Annie supposedly employs, only it broke Abed who became evil Abed and wanted Jeff to lose an arm to join him in the darkest timeline. But, then decided he wasn’t a conniving, non-miraculous son of a bitch and returned to the most accommodating, current form of himself, looked into the mirror and saw Pierce. That’s when he decided choice as fate-destiny was to become a vampire, unable to see his own likeness, as Britta, Jeff and Annie all inhabited his body. All the spirits were repulsed as he woke inside the dream and cried out as Troy, “I didn’t get Inception! I didn’t get Inception!” Only, I’d already seen Tom Behringer stare upon his ownself in a previous film, making me a castaway after the last episode on the island in Lost (as a character with TV network good looks), realized the lack of payoff, screamed in December, “six seasons and a movie!” We’re still waiting on production. Hollywood lies and we continue to delude ourselves to repeat what others rant without forming thoughts and opinions of our own, lemmings marching to our quiet death as Elon Musk’s future cyborgs, then blurted, “I’m not Juno…home slice!” Grinding awkwardly, the bespectacled, unlicensed therapist oozed, “I got skillzz.”
“Who are you? My final?”
Misdirect.
Ha, popcorn.’

I don’t expect you to understand me. ‘You force the obtuse outta me.
Coward. Me.’ Me??

9.25.23

Damn, Charlie Kaufman! Some of us have to be to work in the morning.

Uniform.
Look at his shadow!


Just about anything applies. Ladies, you’re welcome.

They say it was Annie who was the Butt Crack Bandit, but Duncan came back, and she said ‘only he had access to the teacher’s lounge,’ sooo…Why did the bandit write like one of Britta’s run on sentences? (Cut to shot of her using a computer in montage.) And all the merch and success of Shirley’s Subs was a mass conspiracy that benefitted a bankrupt school living in the shadow of the Air Conditioning and Repair annex where Troy saw black Hitler making Paninis and I’m not making this up, but…it was a mass conspiracy and cover-up, just like the hoax ‘Changnesia’ borne out of a trout farm. They’re all bandits. Everyone in Jeff Winger’s Study Group. They’re ballers, yo. I hope you like to get balled. Pansexual imp-puh!

That adds good color for the report.

September 24, 2023 at 10:18pm
September 24, 2023 at 10:18pm
#1056175
The Upper Case
Is the Upper Crust
and I will not humble myself
to any man
or woman
And neither should you, e.e.

9.24.23

I could add or alter this, like 'to no one'. Leaving it for now.

I could have fun playing with the purpose of poetic device like lower case to show weak, small, self-uninportance. Whatever the poetic reason, I chose all lower case, except for the personal pronoun. Not sure if anyone caught that. There were times i used i because i was really showing the feeling of diminshment or just lampooning its choice.

and other stuff. lates, ps

It's not 'how self-important am I?" That's self-doubt. It's I serve no man who dehumanizes, treats people as objects with wallets, turns tables, manipulates, overexaggerates your transgressions to put themselves on a higher level where you're not supposed to reach. And if you become a bull in their china shop, they can say 'see, he did that. he's not disproving Our point.'

Him. Him. Him.
He. He. He.
Be like Him.
Be charitable.
Look at you, you, you.
Shame, what are We to do
with someone like you
who won't fall in line,
follow Our lead -- not a command --
too strict, you see. We
are the people who are your 'friends'
(don't put too much stock in it)
until it ends and then We say
see, see, see
he, he, he
is not good enough, because
he acts out so defiantely.

I say, 'ignorantly'. Then, when I
gather enough knowledge
I do not have to stand
inside the oven before the pilot light...

September 23, 2023 at 11:01pm
September 23, 2023 at 11:01pm
#1056140
Weekends were made for obscurity.
Anything that breaks on Friday
Forgotten by Monday, given
Our current news cycle, appetite
For stuff so salacious, desensitized,
Walls vibrate, intonate, hyper-link
Messages global, incinerating.

Pixelated masturbation less gratifying
Not self-satisfying, lying in jammies.
Now what was I saying? Never mind.
Do it all again in the morning. Click-baiter.
Something, something, something.
And it just goes on like that.

9.23.23
September 23, 2023 at 12:17pm
September 23, 2023 at 12:17pm
#1056113
Trying to make myself feel…something…
Set Me Back To Autumn

I need to seem timeless than old…I feel
beauty within;
it doesn’t project without…when their fixed eyes dim
from summer to ice-thick white…can’t feel
those flames I kept rekindling to tap warmth
in brief moments.

Will winter be eternal, spring delusion and summer
the fires of hell? So,
I dawdle quiet, alone beneath permed trees,
note the blooms that starve and wither…
not like me,
not going to be me.


9.23.23

Can’t stop myself…
What’s eternal, if you’re dying? Even predictions for my home planet are bleak…merely a speck of time left in the post-calculated dream-history of a warm, wobbly marble that just wanted to roll around with a scattered, scrambled collection in dark, structured, haphazard, miraculous but temporary disorganization, within the scope of blinding, hot gas belching temporary love.

…rerun every possible scenario; don’t die like Einstein…we can’t atone regrets…not possible to get life right.

Still got a bit of egg on my face? Thanks for noting. Can’t help you with yours if you won’t stand in the light. Is it my fault I leave myself open to the likes of you? Maybe, I’m helping the delusional delude themselves by revealing my flaws and ability to trip with shoes I inadvertently tie together…again and again…for ire or just amusement.

I can pick up and go on with my day, now, fully knowing those who are so willing and narrow-minded to judge, set boundaries, make insane rules, to protect themselves, indemnify their own ignorance.

Let me just say now, to save us the trouble later, ‘it’s okay’. Go atone on your own time. I think lol write and learn from my own mistakes. More coming. Inevitable, no matter how hard I bite these reins, blinders on. Not by choice. Your mask, not mine. Not your beast of burden who needed to understand ‘why?’ WTF, manipulative S.
September 23, 2023 at 10:48am
September 23, 2023 at 10:48am
#1056109
Sendback Saturday…

STATIC
The Other Side  (E)
How mindless one can seem without true vision.
#1158687 by He’s Brian K Compton 18 year


Review:
The Other Side is a poignant and evocative poem that offers a glimpse into the inner world of the young poet (Brian Keith Compton) who would years later be diagnosed with ADHD and recognized as neurodivergent. This concise poem beautifully captures the essence of the poet's early struggle for self-understanding.

The poem uses a simple yet powerful metaphor of a "little white moth" repeatedly banging its head against a window in pursuit of the light on the other side. This metaphor is a reflection of the poet's relentless pursuit of something more, something beyond what is immediately visible or attainable. It speaks to a sense of yearning, curiosity, and determination that may have driven the him throughout his life.

The fact that he carried this poem (now tattered and stained like a certain shroud) in his wallet for nearly 30 years before sharing it suggests that it held deep personal significance to him. It likely served as a reminder of his own relentless spirit and the challenges he faced in trying to reach a place that others may not have understood or even seen.

The late diagnosis of ADHD and the recognition of neurodivergence in 2019 shed light on (Brian’s) lifelong struggle for self-understanding. This story underscores the misperceptions and misunderstandings that people labeled or treated as different (like him) often face. The poet's determination to express his perspective, even when it might have been misinterpreted as odd, self-centered, or unfocused, demonstrates his resilience and the value of his unique perspective.

In retrospect, it's possible to view the young poet as skilled, even with his own misperception (and haphazard journey to now). The simplicity of The Other Side is its strength, as it encapsulates the universal human desire to transcend barriers and reach for something more. It's a testament to the power of poetry to convey complex emotions and experiences in a concise and relatable way.


The above review and "The Other Side could serve as an introduction to selected poems that unmask a desperate writer yearning knowledge, hindered by lack of maturity, without the benefit of breaking the unknown restraints that kept him from fully actualizing, furthering him deeper to and from an abyss of despair.

Or, something like that. With reviewing, I can now identify these traits in others…turn the mirror on myself inside out and blind my detractors who label and condemn without a shred of empathy while dehumanizing.

But, no bigs. Lates.

I should be a shameless self promoter…like I walked through a fire on water. *Shock2* hmm, title? *Think*
September 21, 2023 at 4:26pm
September 21, 2023 at 4:26pm
#1056047
I kept your secret, polysci—
So well, I can’t remember
Some people can be cheeky
Nudge-wink, you know?
But what I mean as joke —
Flat affect, takes too long
Rounding that bend to you
Sun sets. I no longer cry
Abandoned in the dark,
Invented my own games cerebral

I lost the point, don’t know
Anything but what’s in my gut
A fireball glowing love, passionately,
Eager to run to you like mommy
See me? See what I do??
But you're my sister and don’t get
This atypical guy espousing
Multi-syllabic words waxing.

What? Poetic? I mean to be
Beautiful, be accepted, finally
Arrive at that station in life
Only…more puzzles like clues
To keep up with you, and
Who makes the rules anyway?

You’re not disappointed with me
Maybe, I surpassed you and did not know it.

Don’t worry. When I wake tomorrow,
Your sparkling diploma on wall shimmers,
Will charm mom and dad, as I deflect.

What is the strange meaning of this life,
PS? Did I forget to hold your hand,
Or, will you always finger blame a tard,
like I’m the one who’s playin’? Who??


9.21.23

Vaguely…something…oh, wait…

Now I remember…
Nah, won’t link.
And, whatever. I do worse without trying, apparently. Wake me up and…clean slate.
*this note to myself*
September 19, 2023 at 10:07am
September 19, 2023 at 10:07am
#1055949
I'm not bright but
spark...glit..warm-pulse alive
cave-illumed drawings in dull stone --
scratch-etch-scrawl dreams drawn
down on oozing walls holding back
pressure-weight, crushing gravity
squeezing space attended in mole man squalor.

Beauty-art in dim-lit eyes spiral
from nose-throat conjecture. Vibrated
tendrils float-protect dry, red-blue heart.
Cool-beat-smooth fleet denizen
from brain machines burdened by
societal-mech-driven dystopian mindspeakers

slapping words on soggy toast drip-drip-dripping
on my floor, foot, leg -- splash back, smack
my thin face, begoggled for such spla-matter.
Visits on my stoop, they pry but don't pass
the threshold, because...I don't know why.

I could name you anything, moniker, but
let you name yourself, and it's meaning to me
within the lexicon of humanity redefines
from your hollow projections, leanings into my
void-soul-abyss. You might get a sense of the emptiness,
if I open the maw whole, cracking that door a bit.

You don’t visit anymore, and I ‘spose
I never knew...or what you are...or
what the hell you ever wanted from me.
Shame me, shame me, shame me, it’s
never ending. Guiltless, on fire, nothing
could put me out. I burn on your porch.
You watch out windows, could stomp me,
well done.



9.19.23
9.23.23 last verse, not consistent, title pending…call it that??
September 18, 2023 at 8:23am
September 18, 2023 at 8:23am
#1055901
Submarine Of Feelings

Beneath the waves, I journey in my soul —
A submarine of feelings, dark and cold.
In frozen waters lost, I blindly roam,
Seek bays of blue, a heart's true home.

Utopia hides within my deepest core.
Yet, above the water, I fear to soar.
Is it my own self-doubt that keeps me bound,
Or does unseen a force hold me aground?

Existential questions, I ponder deep.
Through life's ocean my emotions sweep.
But within this submarine, I'll persist
To surface one day from the abyss.


9.18.23

September 16, 2023 at 2:03pm
September 16, 2023 at 2:03pm
#1055826
Never Forget Sour Patch (In The Box)
There’s a war within…

Caught some place hollow
Gimmickerytypegestures
Manipulatedmanifistationsmingling
ConsCONcoctingConcoction
I still can’t put words together
No one to tell me what
I mean, meaning what…to say —
frame, nay, selectwords-artless,
arrang-re the right.write way
onna kaleidoscope spectrum
of shiftingsunsetting horizons
RearrangingREmultiplying
FadingfireworkfizzlingsFalling
down.rain.clouds. Sun-filtered
flashphotographyFills chlorophylls
of a graybladeless plain inbarrenwaste
of an endless/artlessmind
coldcollecting cottoncandykisses

Blow toandfro through my soul
to other atmospheres streaming.separating
smokeyswirly entrails dissipating —
caughtchugging it all down, move
tothenext empty carb-filled platter
likesome haplessholdenmumbling:nomatterMathers

Time for this? Off chest heavedinthat virtual sea
bargerubbish.barnacledboatbleeding words beneath
a pale blue reaffirmation. ignored
reentered in mothballed ammoniascrubbed
mentalward skullbrainofgellingshit
a dependable RedWagon sits.
Green grass lies. Station wagons honk,
go by with Friends moving away
from a dairy soul — a cavern kept pure and whole
until that first expletive leapt
from the mouth of that rotten kid
smelling of sour apple gum and booger-laced

In the red leather corner alone
Where someonespat I sat everyday
as they laughed, assignedfate. bus rumbled
to asleep myfantasiz-ey revengedaydreamsies

Reality merged apricot colors, wallpaperedwalls
Secondhandsslowspun red on black,round clocks
fullyenvisionablefutility inhaledinside fartcloud
ofdiesel, methane and hot,vulcanized rubber

Last on, last off, every ride until I stare
through shiny,a new box-plate-window
but don’t see anything home-y
like fictional reality. Jibberjabber
flibbity,flippity. Mymoutharudder, stream-
senseless-shit bythehour,and profanity
Andletssee who still has sanity
after I pummel that arthritic kid
downhall, room 213. ding!ding!

I smell a sour patch coming.


9.16.23

What drives the passenger of this bus?
I’m dangerous to a degree when I don’t give a fuck. I can fuck, tho.
You wanted me to make sense and this is what translates. We stop ‘aging’ before 13.


September 16, 2023 at 1:08am
September 16, 2023 at 1:08am
#1055801
Lot of good people lose their shit every day
Doesn’t make ‘em wrong
In fact, it’s common to salute them,
Cheer them on against things like
Tyranny, oppression, gaslighting, shunning
Physical and mental abuse
In any and all forms —
The driving force of many action movies,
The rallying cry for a character that broke the cycle of shit
The kind that storms and conquers our every day life
The bad bosses and horrible co-workers
Those red-eyed bullies who tortured us on playgrounds
In the places we were left alone, unguarded
Victimized until ENOUGH!

These people we fight against lack morals, turn tables,
Doublespeak, mindspeak, employ dystopian tenets
Machiavellianism or just crap learned on the street
As thugs with words like chains and brass knuckles
They surround, pop open switches, protect turf
Like you're some big threat, nothing but a bunny rabbit.

I hope you got a little Holy Grail, ass-kicking
Terror in you, mad, rocketing hare because …

I lost my train of thought.

I want to see Monty Python now.

I just negated my rant.

9.15.23

I got a lot of stuff I’m gnawing on. Only takes me two to three months to get around to thinking ‘bout stuff that gets me riled and sick to my stomach.

September 12, 2023 at 11:44pm
September 12, 2023 at 11:44pm
#1055665
Collecting air-bonded water,
invisible night rolls through
the smallest aperture
in my cell container.
Bonded, restless thoughts
invisibly hide in chest, the whole
beneath thick canopy against
undeniable Winter. Pale gray
shutters the sky until black.

Short days. White drifts.
Love leaves in darkest hours.

The season billboard of colors
entertain a dry eye,
fly, fall, skitter all atwitter —
dancing, cartwheeling,
where? Could I follow?
Just a lone driver.

Joyous, ignorant journey
of wayward life lost years ago,
tethers memory in a warm bed.
I’m unwilling to fight for her again.

She is gloom, absent
in this darkness, where I
remember days before us,
when hope reduced the daily dread —
before I glimpsed
her as a Summer ahead.

We journeyed in tandem
amid moist-clung, frolicking leaves
so many years, growing
accustomed to one I could depend.

I thought she understood
where I stand, on forest edge.

Precipice of void abyss nears again.
When did her hand loose?
Why do they all fall away?
Deceptive seasons meld slow
before plucked, noticeable departure.

The night’s air drains.
Condensates null, and no wife.
She’s dry now, sight heading high
above needle-shedding pine, swaying
in the dead white avalanche.



9.12.23

Down the hall now, her nightly terrors like frightened spirits shout and moan. I can’t reach over to comfort, settles my own heart to know I could still abate the pills bitterly swallowed.

I’m in a King size bed alone. 10.27.23
I had thoughts of having someone join me.
This void is widening, swallows something that dares but can’t be proven to exist…horror vacuii not a Halloween reference.

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