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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


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 28, 2020 at 10:25pm
February 28, 2020 at 10:25pm
#976584


The Romantic Version

Summer shadows ripped light from our cabin
like frames of film reeled, lapsing our time.
In my fast car we drove. I had purpose.
You needed a break from your tormentor -- sought
my tanned arms hopefully gripping the wheel tight.

With the beach in sight, my dreams packed
in a hollow heart. Smell of hot pavement crept up
where we parked.
Our long towels found shelter beneath birch, on bluffs
before timeless sand. In sunglasses and smiles,
never saw you laugh so much --

made me forgot to seduce you.

Our perfect forms barely clad, swam, dried, sang;
swam, lotioned and tanned in bright, lasting time.
We cried joyous with wine-imbibed, reddening lips
tendered but undelivered.

The sun failed me that day, dipping too soon
in our glossy, green lake.
I wanted to hold you, give you my body's warmth
when breezes brushed us off our idle shore.
The longest walk to the last car --
must have witnessed every stone on exit
from a cold park.

Serious, I didn't want to wash away that silly grin.
I was forcing smiles -- the reverse tide home --
watching your silhouette form.
Each glance away from our highway brought wonder,
would you finally be done with him?

I delivered you safe to your apartment, platonic.
Words in my head died on journey
to lips too tense to play beneath the lamp
of a long opened doorway.
I wondered if you saw bluebirds caged, long
fly into your night, nestle within bosom and arm.

The light dimmed more days before I saw you and him,
linked by hand, moving on. A hard neck stilled
the wondering head, imagining your lingering eye
over his shoulder. with concern? Your choice, flawed;
bound anyway to break a hopeful fool that dared
laugh along, in escape, on your dark day. Bright,
one of us healed in the sun.

I admit, many nights my slow car rolled past your porch light.
Emotion melded with the light in another season. Eternal,
sun-seared memory in my skin flies like the pulverized car,
scrapped in a sandy, leaf-draped beach.
You helped me realize the best version of my romantic self
was unselfish.


I've known rejection, even as the most beautiful boy in the room. Girls eyes sparkled when viewing me. The bravest sought me out, not realizing I could brood because I knew their fascination would fade.
I wasn't your typical boy, the kind a girl imagined more than a dalliance with. I was only focused on perfect, true, eternal love. Some got my hopes up, relationships lasting as long as two months.
I may have been conditioned to make the repeated rejection my thing. It's how I define myself to this day. It's sociopathic, seeking and compelling rejection to feed the pitiful artist. If I'm not getting rejected soon enough, I become provocative, test boundaries until I prove the final result true. I'm not worthy.
I'm aware. I can tone it down. The flare ups are overwhelming, so I take it one day at a time. It's a part of me that will take a lot of therapy to partly expunge.
I can't be a better man for you. I'll give you glimpses of my promise before self-destructing again and again. You get to have a hand in it. I know how you operate and how willing you are.
Does it make you question why you participate, even by being indifferent to it?
Maybe I'm the lone manipulator in these relationships. If I had it figured out...well, I wouldn't be where I am.



Entry written but not offered for:

FORUM
The Soundtrack of Your Life  (18+)
Every February, you're invited to chronicle the music that has influenced your life!
#1970896 by Jaeff | KBtW of the Free Folk



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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/profile/blog/ripglaedr3/day/2-28-2020