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Rated: 18+ · Book · Spiritual · #1149750
10k views, 2x BestPoetryCollection. A nothing from nowhere cast words to a world wide wind
I’m disabled by more than blindness.

Writing: Like one of those adventure games where you go off questing in different directions but you don’t advance in life. Pretty medallions sought for words/my soul, a slow burn now. Life is full of misdirects right back to the start, you still quest with a thirst.

If they take time to notice, must be doing something right. Life of turmoil produces stuff like this. Not going to call it beautiful agony…it gets a bit uglier. Minced words too pungent.

scripturam in hoc non mutamus, quia stultus es et differentiam nescies.

hic honor, quem accepistis, non est operae pretium, sicut non est bonum.
*BigSmile*
si hoc legere potes, gratiarum actio pro tempore.

The beautiful mess you made.
         |
Without knowledge, who’s to judge?
         |
No gavel; no voice.

I had a lover's quarrel with the world - Robert Frost
         |
I'm sorry you got caught in the middle. - me

*Neurodivergent poet.
*I yearn to love without that fart in the room.
*Honesty without mincing words.
*Stay clear of those surrounded by rules.
*Real dialogue accepted.

Diagnosed with new disabilities in 2020: On the spectrum/ADHD (it gets complicated by PTSD and brain trauma). Been suggested by doctors I might want another brain scan. As it is: 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, find boundaries, no clue why, 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 t the next boob that walks by. *Clown*

Been more than I could imagine or expect. My achievements aren’t going on a LinkedIn wall. I dig deeper than I should, push boundaries. Aimless words, brave or veiled cowardice, flinchingly flung, inadvertently hit targets. Get a ‘back off’ shoulder shot when asking your motivations to write.

No prize to eye; not incentivized. Dealt the worst two cards before the flop, do the best with what you got.



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 "Epigram ‘n Aphorism Samwiches"
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 I Don’t Like My Name


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 ▼
January 31, 2022 at 11:50pm
January 31, 2022 at 11:50pm
#1025769
When you’re small,
trees shadow you,
buildings,
the tall boys and parents.
When you seek inner strength,
they ply that highway, too —
mind and soul and heart.
Long shadow on you,
block light, look down,
those faces don’t let a small boy up from the dirt.
But, the trees, you climb
closer to the sun, filtered,
legs strong, with arms and hands that grip —
before long realization supplied
by nature informed —
the strength to jump down,
ready for a fight and see fright
as they flee.
Now alone,
an eternity in mind
with a crown of leaves.


1.31.22
January 31, 2022 at 8:31am
January 31, 2022 at 8:31am
#1025730
Merit Badge in Taboo Words [Click For More Info] Brian, Congratulations! You won 1st Place in [Link To Item #2139468] with your fantastic poem, [Link to Book Entry #1025730]. This poem took a different direction from all the other entries, and I loved its originality. Rachel 1st Place, January, Taboo Words

The whitest, palest dreams drift
on this medium staring up at me, as if
'when you gonna go?' Taunting.
The world waits for no dreamer,
cast adrift on past memories,
'when you gonna quit?' Reliving.

Hollow clouds furl, separate, reform
on the palest vault staring down, as if
'you waste too much time here.’ Idling.
Plucky birds that dare winter in trees
fly away, as if mocking me in song,
'when will you soar again?' Mimicking

all the songs, all the horizon's offerings,
all the world spares, every dream dreamt.
Where's motivation, can't compel these limbs?
Where's desire, can't feel the beating thing?

The whitest, palest scene is adrift.
The medium on flat surface decays
every moment this world spins further away,
as the clouds reconstruct no matter what.

Nature is outside waiting, no one to play.
When will you search, reach. It flies away?
Blank as a page.

1.31.22
23 lines, free verse

For Taboo Words:
A Blank Page
fresh
clean
new
promise
resolutions
or any derivatives

I have no purpose if I don't employ it.
January 31, 2022 at 7:59am
January 31, 2022 at 7:59am
#1025728
Colorless,
my brain seems to tattoo images and symbols,
expressions of beliefs.
Yet somehow, I cannot stain you,
but stare and dream of original expressions
they would witness, that would move them.

But how to move others, when I cannot move?
Your purity like snow draws my eye,
my ache fingers idle.
You could be my canvas
that does not invite the chalk etchings of my mind.
I am better than clichés
and yet not creative enough.
Before I can write, I must walk.
And when I walk I must go outdoors.
But instead I look out this window and imagine,
dream of myself in another world dawning.

That is where this page needs to begin.
Maybe, this life was wasted?
I look into my heart and see if I can write this.
I pick up my instrument, purge.


Made public 2.21.22 without edit, still rough, lacking detail
January 31, 2022 at 7:24am
January 31, 2022 at 7:24am
#1025726
Merit Badge in Shadows and Light [Click For More Info] Hi Brian, Congratulations! You placed 3rd in [Link To Item #shadows] with your fantastic poem, [Link to Book Entry #1025726]. Rachel
I dreamt in snow,
one thick sock curled under heel,
sweat skin absorbed inside brown, thermal boot.

A lone child bundled in winter gear
drew the coldest, freshest air, puffed
like a wingless dragon. A small body

rejuvenated by winter, realized a blank sky devoid --
nothing staring down at nothing staring up.
Silence. White drifts cradled a tender body,

play-acting some miniature, mental drama.
Endless, small eyes, sheltered and blinded,
viewed a small sun skittering across the horizon,

lowering in noticeable increments if you dared.
Gray particles crept amid bare, frozen ghosts,
hid beneath heaped eaves, seeped vapid, dry air,

as if unsuspected by a child wanting to know
where colors of autumn were buried, while yearning
her firm yet loving call to action: Dinner!

I dreamt warmth,
heavy garments peeled to the rug, unfrozen,
slogged, seeping into the uneven planks of a paler house.

Joy in winter fluff, merely fantasies remembered --
bone-chilled rejuvenation saturated a growing, red heart,
still throbbing echoes lifelong, and still dreams her call.


1/31/22
24 lines, free verse

celebrating 1969-72, the true wonder winter years, in absentia


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