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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, slow burnt. Full of misdirects, right back at the start, but still quest with thirst.

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

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

(hic)

The beautiful mess you made:
I had a lover's quarrel with the world - Robert Frost

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

Neurodivergent poet’yearns to love without that fart in the room between us. Honesty without mincing words comes with a price for those juggling the hot take on my version of truth (here’s some oven mitts). Find it best to stay clear of those surrounded by moat rules.

Real dialogue accepted.

Diagnosed with new disabilities in 2020: was obtuse in beginning, frank now…on the spectrum/ADHD (complicated by PTSD, much brain trauma). Been suggested by doctors of late I might want another brain scan (sincev12/4/17…blogged).

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

Truly been a blessing, but been pushing it — envelope, world and all inhabitants — away — push buttons, find boundaries to trip traps. No clue why, where I've lived in your dark. (Life boring?) 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 strange, virtual walls that tempt me to scale/escape).

Been more than I could imagine or expect here. But, achievements aren’t going on a LinkedIn wall *Think*. I dig deeper than I should, often without forethought. Aimless words, brave or veiled cowardice, flinchingly flung, inadvertently hit targets? Get a ‘back off’ shoulder shot when asking your motivations here. Not fair?

No prize to eye; not incentivized. Dealt the worst two cards before the flop, do best with what’s in hand.



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


It’s like plugging myself, but using other people’s (reviewers) words…Review of "Poetic Referendum(s) On Life"
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
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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
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    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 Brian KC


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
October 22, 2020 at 11:25am
October 22, 2020 at 11:25am
#996475
I try to re-envision this, even though the moment that struck me has long passed...

the blue hour

bright hammers flash.
a gleaming maelstrom deconstructs
a vision in blazing haste.
neon-imbued,
blue hints upon
         ultraviolet leaves that shudder.
         the bayonets huddle, thick-wet,
         dark beneath the topiary silhouettes.

         glimpses,
an instant, dim eyes witness
utopia traveling miles away.
a black veil lowering
smears this foggy crown.

crickets remark
long beyond golden hours.
soaked fireflies pulse, streak
through the essence of all
escaping on sheer horizon --
         here on a cement stoop,
         here in a lonely wood,
         hushed.



21 lines
freeverse

Reminder for this author: Previous notes and edits hide below...

October 22, 2020 at 10:21am
October 22, 2020 at 10:21am
#996471
a particular word
fuzzy
he rolled across the carpet
of his empty mind
to see
what it would pick up --

lint beneath the table
holding a burnt out lamp

a sock from beneath the chair
no longer reclining
where he unclothed
down to his undies
the night before

a cat toy that squeaked
but dropped back down,
drew feline eyes
from the top of the stairs
where below

a word
growing faint
rolled around
like a quarter on its edge,
destined to spin out
fall down
atop --

the very spot
she would giggle,
where they played horsey
and she yelled, 'again!'
so the steed lowered its back
that she might hop on

and the word fell flat
-- suspended --
as a rush whooshed past
into thin air,
vapor.

his smile sank
into a pale form
on two knees
wishing he
could roll another
fuzzy word across time,
boomerang it back
to a moment that could last
forever.


10.22.20 (45 lines)

forever

forever

for--

repeating it won't make it so.

(above, alternative ending)


I didn't know what I was going to write before I started this. Some poetry just needs an image as a vehicle to take the poet on a ride, a journey through a space that can break the laws of time and dimension to seek a beautiful place to preserve, even if it means collecting a few word friends along the way.

added thought - do overs don't exist, unless a penalty is involved. but who is going to whistle the play dead, with so many infractions committed over a life? no referee truly exists in this game.

** Image ID #1295877 Unavailable ** ** Image ID #1036923 Unavailable ** ** Image ID #1036925 Unavailable ** ** Image ID #1037005 Unavailable ** ** Image ID #1036643 Unavailable ** ** Image ID #1059571 Unavailable ** ** Image ID #1059578 Unavailable **


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