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(117)
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 my takes on what’s ‘truth’ (here’s some oven mitts). Best to stay clear of those surrounded by moat rules.

Real dialogue is 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 K Compton Is The Name


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 ▼
July 4, 2021 at 2:28pm
July 4, 2021 at 2:28pm
#1013046
When she foggily stirred and rose to meet my eyes,
she said,
'I love you'.
I said,
'you need to nap more often, my dear'.

just after she puts away her phone on the night stand,
before slumber,
she spools to my half of the bed,
still listening to me roll.
she’s lulled,
lids descend but haven’t reached the floor,
stay ajar,
as I take my cue to wish her a peaceful slumber.

but she insists,
continue.
Though, I know my next sentence is the last
that I will hear loudest, best,
repeating
until three a.m. like
a skipping record, because
I can’t finish that thought.

She takes all my rest.


7.4.21
22 lines, free verse

I won't explain, for a change.
July 4, 2021 at 2:21pm
July 4, 2021 at 2:21pm
#1013044
the widow sits by the window --
         beneath the bay window,
slumped in the chair,
a lump --
         in the easy chair
the widow lay beneath the window,
the widening hole,
a dull glass above a young lass.

a widow --
         a graying woman delaying
in a room bright,
a dark gloom,
a vault-like tomb,
where the widow sits and idles
alone,
nobody home.

though, the window sees
a busy street scene,
a park opening,
people walking their dogs.
it’s 80 degrees.
you think she would freeze
with the a/c on
well after dawn,
huddling there
in the great green chair.
is there despair

for the widow
who sleeps, possibly dreams
beneath a streaked scene?
the wind always blows.
but, whoever knows from outside
if she’s alive or if dead, because

they can’t even see
and she can’t see, because

her eyes are closed
below the window
in her dusty, old chair.
has she a care?

the widow beneath the window,
in such a strange scene,
shaded you see
beneath a willow tree.

the widow beneath that window
doesn’t look to see.
must be a dream, because

I’m not even dead, yet.


7.4.21
47 lines, free verse


I had the ending figured out just after the repeating 'widow in the window' mantra went going around in my head, before finally jotting it down, and then all the stuff in that sandwich kept bubbling up, piling on, before I could add that reality at the finish. I won't spoil it for those who might need a second read to understand what I mean by that last line. Note the only capital letter. You guys look for, or notice this stuff, right? Sometimes, I forget that I'm doing it, look back and have to find these things myself.

There should be a noticeable narrative with the way the lines start out, like trying to get traction. I might go back and edit the end to alter line positions a little, if nothing else to ease that downhill march to the end of the read.


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