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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/profile/blog/ripglaedr3/day/4-9-2022
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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, a slow burn now. Life is full of misdirects right back to the start, you still quest with a thirst.

If they take time to notice, must be doing something right. Life of turmoil produces stuff like this. Not going to call it beautiful agony…it gets a bit uglier. Minced words too pungent.

scripturam in hoc non mutamus, quia stultus es et differentiam nescies.

hic honor, quem accepistis, non est operae pretium, sicut non est bonum.
*BigSmile*
si hoc legere potes, gratiarum actio pro tempore.

The beautiful mess you made.
         |
Without knowledge, who’s to judge?
         |
No gavel; no voice.

I had a lover's quarrel with the world - Robert Frost
         |
I'm sorry you got caught in the middle. - me

*Neurodivergent poet.
*I yearn to love without that fart in the room.
*Honesty without mincing words.
*Stay clear of those surrounded by rules.
*Real dialogue accepted.

Diagnosed with new disabilities in 2020: On the spectrum/ADHD (it gets complicated by PTSD and brain trauma). Been suggested by doctors I might want another brain scan. As it is: 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, find boundaries, no clue why, 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 t the next boob that walks by. *Clown*

Been more than I could imagine or expect. My achievements aren’t going on a LinkedIn wall. I dig deeper than I should, push boundaries. Aimless words, brave or veiled cowardice, flinchingly flung, inadvertently hit targets. Get a ‘back off’ shoulder shot when asking your motivations to write.

No prize to eye; not incentivized. Dealt the worst two cards before the flop, do the best with what you got.



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 "Epigram ‘n Aphorism Samwiches"
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 Lorem Ipsum, Perhaps?


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 9, 2022 at 9:06pm
April 9, 2022 at 9:06pm
#1030429
don't aim for my ears.
don't aim for my ears.
don't.
I don't want to hear.
but
with your call heard above the willow,
I visualize
flowing, straw so smooth, lace
a tender chin, frame rose jowls
jutting beneath that bay of blue.

don't aim for my eyes.
don't aim your eyes
at mine. don't.
I don't want to know
that you
could really see me now,
after all these years, like this,
alone and wishing...

flow, straw so tender in willow
aims at me,
some isle of a man
who cannot run,
could not visualize your arms
open to rigid oak,
a dense wood,
that could shadow your form
if the sun had hit us
just right.

I don't want to hear hello.
I didn't want to see you go,
flow fading into night,
alight in dreams
beneath a moon's glow
a fog-head still clearly envisions.

no aim.
no aim.
no flow.
why must the moon still glow?


4.9.22
April 9, 2022 at 8:54pm
April 9, 2022 at 8:54pm
#1030427
your body may have been small
I'll never know after I heard you
glance off the bay window, though
I could go look. I don't want to.

I'm all alone and small like you
on the inside of something protective
that isn't a heart, about as big as you,
I would imagine, from melodious sound
that may have signaled a death toll

My body may have been small, but
I'll never know how hard the sound when I
glanced off big hands, thick, though
I could go look, in my hell hole.
I don't want to
know

I'm all alone,
small,
make no sound
in this giant shell
of a living man
who does not want to relive
what you go through,
struggling, possibly...now...

I'm small
let's leave it at that.


4.9.22
April 9, 2022 at 6:45pm
April 9, 2022 at 6:45pm
#1030418
Burn For This? (Will I Ever Know?)

I’m trying to say something to you in a way you never quite thought of,
hopefully handsome, that you’ll appreciate, maybe, even dream a little
about me, the way my words might form when our eyes meet, might they
dilate and flesh heat. while we may never greet or extend a hand to the other,
more personally, warm a tender back; two limbs entwine sodden torsos,
finally arrive to perfect sunrise. roots firm grasp terra we soil together,
feeling true worth, before undeniable repose;
losing the sun to moonless nights, winter a dark year alone,
yearn vernal return, early — less a lion, longing like lambs.
with tender lips kiss a finally thawed, wet glass —
kiss window pane, escape somehow through a filmy thing,
when you couldn’t look out, needed words burst a hard land,
touch hope lingering soft, in blue hearts, burning again.

Will I ever know…if I did that?


4.9.22
4.13.22 edit
April 9, 2022 at 6:24pm
April 9, 2022 at 6:24pm
#1030417
I’ve written a lot of stuff I won’t post, resist what might be temptation. But this, no qualms…

I could be somewhere between Will Smith laughing at Chris Rock’s Oscars joke
and that fist upside the comedian’s jughead jaw
to yelling
keep her name out your mouth
to weeping during an honor professing
desire to be a vessel for love.

What you get is not staged but reaction
to all that confounds.
I got to get it right.
I know when I’m baited, learned to dial it down,
step back. But, definitely,
I won’t be poned or dismissed
and have to actively figure a way to prepare and sort it
when dared…by life
and by trolls…indifferent or direct.

Will may have been in laugh mode before quickly connecting the dots
before going off.
Rock sells controversy as comedy,
but not as edge as he once was.
Rock is scripted.
Smith might not be.

If I script, I’m fake.
Got to work it real and keep the pressure on.
Be
West Philly in the house.

3.29.22

We all like to think we can relate,
know what goes on
and then crazy shit like this happens
and we walk it back.
Nope.
Got to move on.

4.9.22

The more you read me, the more you might misunderstand, judge…I’m okay with that. I’ll keep plugging away. You do you. I’m not hating. They need you to watch. I’m not like that.


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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/profile/blog/ripglaedr3/day/4-9-2022