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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/profile/blog/ripglaedr3/day/3-15-2022
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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 seeks love without that fart in the room between us. Honesty without mincing words has come with a price for those juggling the hot takes on what’s ‘truth’ (here’s some oven mitts). Best to stay clear of those surrounded by moat rules (not my attempt to disrespect, shame or shun. Just doin' me, which has come with its price [I've accepted.])..

Real dialogue 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 is a Streaker Try2StopMe


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 ▼
March 15, 2022 at 7:48pm
March 15, 2022 at 7:48pm
#1028993
Honorable Mention ~ Stormy’s Poetry Newsletter 3.23.22

Headstones (We Walk Home)

In a sea of headstones, hands clasped,
we mark future journey to our destiny, remembering
mother and father, on their anniversary.

Fires they built to burn our food, teenage years,
eternal love, and a roof over our heads, until
we graduated from school, and went to work.

And when that home came toppling down,
from aging and all the love inside, we had an idea
to replant their perennials at the grave.

We've done about as much for them, as they
could do for us, in our early years. Now in tears,
shoulder to shoulder, we walk home, too.


3.15.22

12 lines, free verse

FORUM
Stormy's poetry newsletter & contest  (ASR)
poetry newsletter gift point contest
#310188 by Stormy Lady

Oldest living poetry contest that means a damn at WDC. Keep it alive!
March 15, 2022 at 7:15pm
March 15, 2022 at 7:15pm
#1028989
Rubber zucchini will not do from a supermarket zoo,
where I load a basket of ingredients.
We've got the blues
and a manufactured sleeve of black cookies
would not do.

Smudged recipe card in her handwriting
greets me on a floured counter,
amid the grating and grinding.
Tablespoons of cinnamon, allspice, powders
and salt all need minding.

I butter and flour the pan how she taught me.
From mixer bowl, I slide in the batch.
Two pans even must be.
With the proper fire from a faithful oven,
hope to get it right. We'll see.

Hour later, they marvel crisp, brown perfection.
Her aromatic bread, spied through glass, risen.
This was her favorite selection.
In thick divides, we plate each slice, butter, and
gobble Mother's confection.


3.15.22

20 lines, rhyming

Second place, April 2022:
Poetry Contest and Inspiration  (18+)
Contest Cancelled due to Lack of Interest.
#2253936 by bearbit
March 15, 2022 at 6:55pm
March 15, 2022 at 6:55pm
#1028988
I could feel you near, heart searing
my chest. I still cannot rest,
when I knew you would be about.
Days wasted, watching a Madonna,
as you'd pout around that boy.

I feel you dressed for nobody, but him
who spent too much time flexing
in the gym, exercising ego.
How could he know, that I
was ready to make love to you?

You came to me late at nigh, a fit
because you had a fight. Comfort
in my arms as you whisper
what you really wish. It's not me,
but for him, who should've known.

I told you 'no' when you wanted me,
a consolation. In the years since then,
in desolation, needing consecration,
timing wasn't our thing. Nor were you
and button-jeans guy who made you sing.


3.15.22
20 lines, rhyming in free verse.

We've all met that one who intimated feelings for another when we were right under their nose. I may hav been on three ends of that.
March 15, 2022 at 4:27pm
March 15, 2022 at 4:27pm
#1028980
my heart throbbed 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 stared
at a crow.

and when we hit a smoky lake superior strip
with that college clan drinking on land, they dared
bare skin. your sweater cast off, revealed pink panties,
braved waves hurtling ashore. and alone, I shoved off,
defeated.

I didn’t want to share you or know if yip, yip,
yipping jackals had owned you in our moonlight.
just an unknowable, self-protective wall of man,
too afraid to go free, naked with a spirited,
animal baying.

lacking sacrifice of virgin skin in ice black air, flesh
I longed entwine never warmed this soul's container.
I'm an island of man, not a public spectacle. immoral
to project a vision for you I could never embrace
as my own.


3.15.22
20 lines, free verse

Love Unrequited, it seemed.
I wanted irony twist at end to see who really should be condemned.

From the much longer: "Not So Much As A Bare Toe " 


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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/profile/blog/ripglaedr3/day/3-15-2022