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(116)
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
[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 Shh…singing Brian to sleep


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 24, 2024 at 2:33pm
February 24, 2024 at 2:33pm
#1064807
It’s always been there (my poem), but you don’t notice or care to admit…

In their version, The Marías slow the story down while also cutting it short at just over two minutes. Yet so much differs throughout those 125 seconds. The “...Baby One More Time” cover welcomes listeners with a quiet and gentle guitar melody. Within seconds, Zardoya enters with a soft, raspy tone, pleading for one more chance. Softly layering her voice as the mesmerizing background vocal, there's a much more intimate feeling than the original. Within the first half minute, Zardoya sets a guilty tone as she sings, “I shouldn’t have let you go…” There’s a regretful implication as her voice quivers. Then, she declares, “There’s nothing that I shouldn’t do / It's not the way I planned it.” The subtle change from Spears’ more innocent “wouldn’t” to The Marías’ “shouldn’t” places the responsibility on the singer for her past mistakes in love. Zardoya is not pleading with the promise of doing whatever it takes to save the relationship; she understands she should be the one to make the effort to salvage it. Then, instead of singing “It's not the way I planned it,” Zardoya speaks this line with a disgruntled tone, as if she's tired of having to defend her intentions.


"grind on this (MV)

https://www.afterglowatx.com/blog/2023/5/8/cover-story-the-maras-make-a-relaxing...

It’s ‘not the way I planned it’…none ever do…plan. Yet, manipulation everywhere I look. Hit me baby one more time??

I’ve been writing since the first black eye…
February 24, 2024 at 10:43am
February 24, 2024 at 10:43am
#1064781
The Small Voices (Not A Windmill’s Chance…without my brother)

I wish I had a nickel
for every time
she pointed out
that’s just how it is now
like I’m ignorant … like
I’m surprised life had made me it’s bitch …

but a small voice
that isn’t harmonized,
that isn’t paired by another
in tune … isn’t
harmony …

and … when did life
make you so smart … ?
and … made you its bitch??
as the two of you laugh at me right now
fitted for plastic armor?
readied for any situation …
big or small …
pierce with my pointy stick
while wheeling atop a uni-cycle I call stead … ??

precarious, I know … but
brave?
to fight alone knowing
it’s more than life that’s hurtful
that wants to make me their bitch … ??
because …
bitch-slapped.

it’s easier taking down the labeled Quixote
(reckless, feckless),
than lance these giant demons —
machines designed,
sluicing the weather around us,
taking our energy,
harvesting our electricity
to deplete good souls
to short out … not grounded to any element,
chained to that grist …

railing
with clenched fist … toppled:

and there you are standing over me.
I see through this visor
what you intimate …
what you intone …
like a coward
you pick on the weakest thing
planted in the dirt of a machination’s shadow …

you’re lucky I see you
and not a windmill
(that I look up
and not down on you…
where you say
my poem should have ended …
there. It
never
ends …)

but for a small dagger
life goes on
without my brother.

2.24.24

I made last 3 lines its own statement than attach to the poem machine because it is the only thing that could separate, yet like throwaway lines only a fool/man would consider

In post.. taking up the gauntlet ?
while everyone else is saying back away from it

because they can’t control me or think me a fool with it?
I have no doubts
Yet, labeled to make me feel reckless, feckless
I hold on to it, sleep with it…
not to feel safe … but the closest thing to kinship I have in this world
it’s that side of myself everyone denies me access to…
won’t realize or accept
I live in two worlds just to feel whole in one
because
cowards
and what do they sleep with…?

WHAT HAVE I TO HIDE?
Oops, I left caps on… *Laugh* and I’m not going to fix…cuz…??

Not going to be a bitch to ML either…


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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/profile/blog/ripglaedr3/day/2-24-2024