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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
April 6, 2021 at 2:50am
April 6, 2021 at 2:50am
#1007856
Free associating feelings again, after a cluster of words pinged off the towers in my head...

Echoes And The Dimension Between

Echoes are hollow if you notice,
listen close.
Like a shallow puddle you could avoid,
soak a shoe.
The distance to these empty places
revisited,
the time it takes to return to present,
wasted
time.

The car ride at night to these destinations,
can't recall.
No scenery to absorb over an absent infinity
in your heart.

The echoes -- louder...
Puddles -- muddier...

Why did I venture out, except --
I'm alone?

You aren't here to fill that void
in the galaxy and dimension
between.


4.6.21
4.30 new edit
April 6, 2021 at 2:22am
April 6, 2021 at 2:22am
#1007854
Feel like the flywheel spinning
         wasted energy
my angular momentum
meant to capture this awkward
throbbing in my heart
         sometimes whirling
at dizzying speeds
                   and maybe

I'm just an instrument
for you to toy with

wicked gleams in fetching eyes
fool one as silly
who cannot lock onto
         intended targets
all loose from too much action --

just one aspect chained
to the axis
easy to gauge from your vantage
but not for me
to disengage

by the time I get my bearing
         Long you've been away.


https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Flywheel


3.30.31
Revised 4.6.21

I will give this more thought without directly implying a toy top...e.g.


A flywheel is nothing but a heavy rotating disc attached to a shaft. It rotates along with the shaft. Because of it's large weight, it has large amount of inertia, the property of a body by which it tends to remain in motion unless some other force causes it to stop.

stores the kinetic energy of the initial acceleration and propels the toy after it is released, by forcing the perpetual motor that revolves the kinetic energy.



April 6, 2021 at 2:06am
April 6, 2021 at 2:06am
#1007853


Her songs got me through some difficult days, once upon a time.
April 6, 2021 at 12:25am
April 6, 2021 at 12:25am
#1007850


Poem forthcoming, when I can free up brain cells to finish.


Poem now:

In the bourbon and water
Swirling
Thought I'd add a cherry
Sunken
To the bottom of the glass
Drained:

Did I savor you?

It's been too long,
Too late
Ice long melted away
Chills a heart still,
foolish as mine:

Did you warm me?

I don't want to feel nothin'
Tipping
Anchored to this empty bar
Floating
Eyes freely gazing in the glass
Reflecting:

Did I see eyes stir?

With senses pinging for towers
Dulling
I'd take knives deep in hollow skin
Driving
Valleys into concocted veins
Bleeding
for you again.

The longer I drink...
Here I am.


4.6.21


How To Sing With A Broken Heart
as yet (un)written



You sing a sad song with fondness in your eyes
Sparkling voice ever clearer
With green eyes that crystallize


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He’s Brian K Compton has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and its syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.

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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/profile/blog/ripglaedr3/day/4-6-2021