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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/profile/blog/ripglaedr3/day/2-16-2022
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(117)
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 seeks love without that fart in the room between us. Honesty without mincing words has come with a price for those juggling the hot my takes on what’s ‘truth’ (here’s some oven mitts). Best to stay clear of those surrounded by moat rules.

Real dialogue is accepted.

Wasn’t as open at first about recent diagnosis on spectrum with ADHD (complicated by PTSD, life of brain traumas). Been suggested by doctors of late I might want another brain scan (since 12/4/17…blogged).

This poet’s words collect, arrange on a kaleidoscope spectrum. The experience of discovery through writing is the truest reward that has allowed me to grow and learn who/what I am — what other people get naturally, immediately, while I stomp around in it.

Been blessed, but pushing it — envelope, world and all inhabitants away. Push buttons, find boundaries to trip traps. No clue why cat curiosity, living in your dark. (Bored, perhaps?)

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

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 [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 Brian K Compton, Machinehead


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 ▼
February 16, 2022 at 9:53pm
February 16, 2022 at 9:53pm
#1026846
I could tell you
life is supposed to be uneven
as I watch you tie on pretty blue bows.
the package looks a mess,
so much tape adhered.
I think back and wonder
when will it come unglued.

I leave your wrapping intact
with marvel of sacrifice,
a gift I have come to learn
never meant to be opened.

life has always been awkward
as a little one who could never learn
beauty is just a delusion
on printed paper, held by cellophane,
topped in looping curls never unfurled.

Put the scissors away and dream beneath
these primary lights
illuming dark illusion.
Smell green thicken, lying inside here.
Celebrate before the tree comes down.


2.16.22
2.20.22 edit
21 lines, free verse

not sure, but what we do might really be ugly and unhealthy, but gets us through life, anyway. we all die, anyway.

Quill Nominated Best Poetry Collection two consecutive years, 2020 and 2021.
February 16, 2022 at 9:39pm
February 16, 2022 at 9:39pm
#1026845
…but you’re not there

from our shore I swore I could smell
the mountain air —
majestic, stoic, lowering
in dull moon light, but less romantic
for one stiffly unbelieving.

water absorbed a string
of light-connecting beach fires,
collectively incinerating
bark-bare wood
combers in flannel and cardigans hauled.

wandering waves obediently encircled
our nimble toes stripped bare,
yet never dared run free,
or hand-in-hand down an extended scene,
because

I didn't know you and you never asked me
one single question,
while waiting
on friends to gather,
silence filling, building mystery.

a dull blue lake chilled darker
by minute time. my head clocked
infinite expansion in our vacuum
until it ran past limited eternity,
as long shadows finally interceded.

whenever smoke lifts to the moon,
my heart skips upon Superior blue.
I feel you idle next to me
in oversized, cable sweater,
swirls of over-applied sweet scent
mix in earthen-steeped steam.

I reach for your hand...


2.16.22
7.11.22
12.21.23 tweaks

unrequited can be the poet’s eternal disease. 2.20.22…and who cares now when I wrote that?

#romantic #summer #moon
February 16, 2022 at 8:46pm
February 16, 2022 at 8:46pm
#1026842
My organ throbbed love for fire red hair,
a cherub who
could not conceive her reflection,
a devilish grin
on pottery-glazed cheeks --
matter of fact
ignored blue piercing her green
when she openly spoke
to a crow.

and when we hit a smoky Lake Superior
with that college clan
who drank and dared
to bare skin,
one sweater castoff...
yours,
the only one who
stripped to panties,
when I shoved off on a long dark shore,
defeated.

I didn’t want to share you.
I didn’t want to know if
the yip, yip, yipping jackals
owned your body in moonlight...

until I realized:
too severe, stern, stoic,
an unknowable, self-protective
wall of man,
too afraid to go naked with you,
risk their judgement again
that night I lost you
to tumbling waves drowning out
a spirited animal baying.

I didn’t sacrifice and freeze virgin skin
in ice black air --
flesh dedicated only
to entwine another soul's warm container,
not be a public spectacle.

yet, not immoral, but
not my vision for you. and,
had I known we'd never table together again...
who knows?

I rejected myself, not you that night,
in pursuant days of abstinence
and regret and replayed scenarios --
cliché.

I hope life gave everything you wanted.
me...
not so certain, as this quandary might show,
still perplexed.


2.16.22
49 lines of long free verse

she skinny dipped. I didn't. No one else did. I wish I had. How could I? Not so much as a bare toe tested those waters back then.


© Copyright 2024 Brian K Compton, Machinehead (UN: ripglaedr3 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/profile/blog/ripglaedr3/day/2-16-2022