10k views, 2x BestPoetryCollection. A nothing from nowhere cast words to a world wide wind |
I had a lover's quarrel with the world - Robert Frost | I'm sorry you got caught in the middle. - me 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 . 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. You suffer, but you suffer brilliantly. Wow, what a great writer. 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! 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. Published four times with one a literary journal, including… "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. August 28, 2006 this blog opened ▼
No specific aim going forward (2014) ▼ 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. 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 ▼ |
Ebb The Sun Goes down On me, on you On a little river Flowing flowing flowing (by the tree Watching, viewing, spying) Whenever wherever however We think we are free To babble through cattail below wildflower Tumbling to greet decay on our shore Within the divide where we hide From an angry sun, devouring (Shade from the vigilant old man Who lost his way over time Scarred and hating all he remembers All he can’t remember) And what we do flowing to the docks Not our shelter, biding time Lapping, licking, lusting Landfill, warm cover, bathed by evening fire Crackling, blazing, puffing The exhumed into the exhaled Searching, seeking, rising To the fullest, roundest white glowing Gleaming a dreaming bay, longing freedom To search every shore, but settling Beneath the bedrock to aquifer going Going, gone by dawn, dissipated lost To a dry world with dying fauna I hoped this could be happy I hoped this could be you and I I hoped you would see the confluence Of two rising tides Didn’t have to settle for a creek Dry on the pebbled rock Beneath the limbless man Rooted rot tilted, spying Eyeing, knowing we are doom We are severed from humanity Any life we could have escaped Before air no longer could ignite A single Oak to douse our dark Internal, eternal, unelagantly This must die, we will die, no one left To try 5.8.23 7.30.23 edit Hmm, shape it, leave it? Nope. Formerly, ‘To Try’. |