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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
February 23, 2020 at 10:45am
February 23, 2020 at 10:45am
#976150


Your Halls

In your walls, I have bled,
Imagined vistas, without seamless glass.
No doors in these caves lead out;
though I've seen the bright sun shone
in my dull eyes, unable to grasp
meaning. I am tender to its heat.

In your halls, once I was naively led
by your haloed lovelies, without arms
lifted me up from the dead. Propped
in your garden for all to view,
visualized in my secluded hell how to
dream like you with foot-damped dew.

By nightfall I was entombed again,
wondering if I have ever been. Why
does your plaster bind me within?
Morning is eternal to the deities
I remotely witness. Fruit placed at
their bathed feet, an aroma sweet.

In your halls, I no longer greet lonely
faces like mine. My chamber, my tomb
forever I'll be, sprouting love like vines
on the corridor endlessly, knowing this
can be my heaven. I need not share
this inner sanctum as your undelivered.


For:
"The Soundtrack of Your Life

No offense, or don't take this the wrong way?
We've all been judged by lesser fools.
February 23, 2020 at 8:09am
February 23, 2020 at 8:09am
#976138
Fading Time-Kissed Memory


Sun filtered by birch,
the tender tides sogged suits gripped by sand.
Your soft lips warm, slow, reached my mouth. Earth
enveloped our youthful forms. Abandoned by friends, aware
a kindling romance, we could have stayed hours, cooled by night,
gentle in baptismal waters. Eyes showered by love from hot stars,
imagined the distance                                          from Venus to Mars.
Our wine coolers                                                    drained, dialed time
shadows in our setting scene, across torsos tangled. The only planets gazed
upon sparkled on the ground. Green irises gleamed, perfectly planted in
your blonde garden, wading like hydrilla beneath my form, too young
to know then. I've learned since, why we never swam beyond
that timeless shore -- theatre on thin film inside my
foggy head. I loved you then, as much as
the fading memory now.



Thirteen - Big Star



For:
"The Soundtrack of Your Life
3.22.20 last edit before video link update


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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/profile/blog/ripglaedr3/day/2-23-2020