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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/profile/blog/ripglaedr3/day/6-17-2021
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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 ▼
June 17, 2021 at 12:38pm
June 17, 2021 at 12:38pm
#1012045
Why don't you point your confetti gun at the discouraged,
the underfed, under-served,
instead of the two percent who have enough?


I stand at the line with an empty plate,
ready for a few words,
and see this place isn't for me.
I have food at home.
I could use
company, but not
when there is so much mediocrity
that we can't cultivate the best
from downtrodden souls,
give them a hand in their hour of need,
rather than pity for a lifetime.

Why do we rub elbows with the elite,
marvel at celebrity?
To get a piece of that pie?
Table scraps is all I see,
and thus I put my plate back,
return the tines and sit beneath
the everlasting tree
shading me for an eternity,
hoping they will come visit
to share a few joyous moments.

The sun will fade, a chill will rise,
but not for a flame burning in our eyes.
Insects will bite as we don full attire
and cavort about a fire,
telling stories each has never heard.
We hope somehow we've found a friend for life,
before our tongues tire and souls depart.

If I could just remember your name in the morning,
I'm sure we'd meet beneath that tree again.
I drive by time after time,
as I'm sure you have done the same.
Just didn't get your name.
The search for a friend and true purpose
begins again.


6.17.21

now that's a rambling piece of prose. Meh.
June 17, 2021 at 12:25pm
June 17, 2021 at 12:25pm
#1012044
You charmed me, my friend.
Never questioned your intentions, when
we stopped seeing each other.
And when I gather, I frown
to think I sent you away unhappy.
Never my intention.
I never want to be without
your knowing look,
wink of approval,
a friendly hand at my back
willing to guide me to the right course,
a true destination I though we shared
before I realized,
it was our parting.
You did not follow or run after me,
calling, 'wait up!'
What is this strange place
I'm staring out now,
as the sun goes down?
Crickets could be charming
a full moon right now,
with a porch swing
and lemonade as the heat
subsides, but you don't
lend balance to a wobbly thing
too large to guide
a solitary body.
I could reminisce,
but what's the point?


6.17.21

I keep writing when I should shut up.

"Note: I'm only a better writer because I've been..."

June 17, 2021 at 12:01pm
June 17, 2021 at 12:01pm
#1012039
The abused and neglected
will stay confused and rejected,
because they will start hurting themselves,
when you stop out of guilt (yourselves)
unable to ease their own pain,
unable to realize they go through it again

with or without you,
conditioned.
My hands as big and strong
as those that squeezed
a tender wrist,
couldn't hurt another.

But a mind that went through
that daily grind
is still tender, like putty
in your hands

when you realized a gullible soul
seeking harmonious life
only found you,
and now handles a knife

since you left
to shame me for daring near
a sunny disposition.

Your only aim was to manipulate
and leave me in the cold again.
Isn't it bold to blame me,
as I blame myself

for being a tender soul
who can never grew up,
always wanting to believe
in facsimile utopia

I could pick up where I left off —
or stuck in infinite loop —
believing, spiraling
believing in people like you
to lift me up,

deflecting words of shame,
your little blame game

that leaves me
gaslit.


6.17.21
11.14.23 adds/edits/restructure/rhyme and it’s power or retraction (Kit’s Higher Ratings)

...if I could punish you...disconnect, resurrect and try again for myself this time.
I'll keep writing these five minute things.

Not a fiver anymore

And a big fuck you to Dave who hears me rail against those who shut me out in the gym with ‘Your a big guy’ (making excuses for ignorant dickheads) like it’s supposed to suggest I can take the emotional abuse from dehumanizing assholes. Though, if it was somewhere else…nope, never raise a hand. I’ll keep using my words…questions even.


FORUM
Kit's Higher Ratings Contest  (18+)
A contest for items with a higher content rating.
#887621 by Kit of House Lannister

June 17, 2021 at 11:44am
June 17, 2021 at 11:44am
#1012037
You're unwilling to suspend disbelief,
as you parse,
because you do not believe
in the perfect metaphor,
plying lines and words
for a hiccup.
yet, I'll keep trying,
verse after verse
to hook you and make you
a believer of imperfection
and the value of the interplay
between what we can't achieve
like returning to Eden.

It's tragedy.
We root for the losing team,
so why not me?
I'd entertain a scholarly Nazi
for hours, idling
at my bed, ready to dive
beneath the covers,
read past dark,
when in the wee hours
you see what I struggle for...

...self-worth.


6.17.21

Write like you? I don't think so, but I'm wiling to compromise. How do you think I came this far to greet you?
June 17, 2021 at 11:34am
June 17, 2021 at 11:34am
#1012034
you laugh
when I divide this 'shoe leather'
with a serrated knife,
a thin, hard beef marinated hours,
bought with my bottom dollar,
seasoned to perfection
to raise my fork in triumph,
as it settles on the tines.
Dripping meets the watery mouth.
Molars have their work,
as it turns and turns,
savored, a tough life
I will enjoy much longer
than those fools dining on
tender meat pleasantly presented
amid steamed broccoli,
carrots and cauliflowers
on an oversized, thick plate,
their wallets emptied
and long out the door, while I'm
on my third raspberry sangria,
washing down a merciful cow.

you laugh,
but I smile because I know
I got my money's worth.

and I didn't even need steak sauce.


6.17.21
26 lines, free verse

Another five minute write while listening to "Slow Burn" by Kacey Musgraves
My wisdom might be showing
June 17, 2021 at 10:46am
June 17, 2021 at 10:46am
#1012020
We liked to take pictures when we were young.
Do you remember the ones?
Do you know the binder that held a history,
we couldn't share when she died,
divided up? Partially in tact,
memory fades,
missing.

We liked to snap the trees in Autumn,
but wondered why we couldn't capture
a feeling, moments long past
recalled from point of aim
at a horizon daring,
burning and bleeding out
sunset after sunset.

Do you remember when I called you my friend
forever? What were we thinking
by not preserving?
Where will I find you now
on that horizon?

I'm staring at rivers and lakes,
blue skies and the prettiest trees,
and can't remember a single moment.
I can't see me there with you, because
you're not here to stare
at this incipient void between
two humble atoms in decay.


6.17.21
26 lines, free verse

written to "Hold On" by Sarah McLauchlin
If you learn what incipient void is, you'll get the context further

Conversely:

I do
what I want to do
and today
I write, because
I don't want to do
what you want.

and it still doesn't make me any happier.


© Copyright 2024 He’s Brian K Compton (UN: ripglaedr3 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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/6-17-2021