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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/profile/blog/ripglaedr3/day/9-22-2020
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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
September 22, 2020 at 9:39am
September 22, 2020 at 9:39am
#993930
https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/46671/mulberry-fields

"...wild
berries warm a field of bones
bloom how you must i say"

9.22.20

am i alice to you?


painted by your glow
i'm still bones
with blooms' marvel
rising from sockets
amid the stones
marking my eternal decay
for a servant
who died long ago
not undead, not alive for you
I say, killed
hushed in the harsh field
my skull shall lay


10.7.20
there, i added a poem rather than just one lone comment on the poem with reference to alice.
September 22, 2020 at 9:04am
September 22, 2020 at 9:04am
#993924
A poem I wrote Saturday...some Saturday

From the ground...

Imagine the sweet melody fed a bed
of instrument's rhapsodic elevation overtaking
our drunk life forms --
the chorus fading beneath the surface,
a sweet divide of ecstasy
like a slow burn

at fever pitch repeating
as the dizzy instruments,
over-compensating, swelter --
a hot summer escalating
like a field of locusts to ears
buzzing, chirping,
never thinning
until we pass out

in a bed of nature's flowered beauty,
side by side,
taking in a bright sun
in a cloudless sky --
rotating, reforming
before the tree's shadows
elongating, start shading
our willing corpses
spinning deep into earth
beneath us

unwilling to swallow us whole
before the light
drains
out.


9.19.20

from my cellphone, typed at a wedding reception (among eight or so poems 'penned')

September 22, 2020 at 8:52am
September 22, 2020 at 8:52am
#993922
written several days ago...typing to get my mind off things...

Wine And Courage

The draped table normally ordinary
serves
wine, dry and red
which I wouldn't normally
partake
But with cheese and crackers
devoutly spread
serves a poet
whose spirits need libation
get through
the night I dread, spin my yarn
But not with rhyme because
that wouldn't
be sublime to one bittersweet
It's a slow burn
when I see you turn
your head, look at me
with new eyes
and I think
I struck a nerve
But is it good or maybe bad?
or should I turn,
run from this?
drink my wine, wait for you
because you're next?
And then you look to me
and read your words
before I melt and think that I
have found someone
who gets me
It's ecstasy
It's a
slow burn


9.19.20



September 22, 2020 at 8:13am
September 22, 2020 at 8:13am
#993919
And what would you call me?

I passed through her gullet like a ghost
that is what it has meant to commune
among the colorful, plumed birds
just a kernel of nothing that
intended to grow once earth
was struck by my shell
hard, penetrating
soil to grow
my stalk
with a violet
burst from green
blades, wet and firm,
to rise and compare with
all the beauty that abounds
that dares beg tender eyes see
the glory unfolding that would be me
but I passed through this place a ghost

from one tiny flower that would aspire
another bird could devour my breed
an ordinary seed, pale in color
from beneath yellow blades
of wave and flowing amid
loving breezes blowing
multiplying my love
upon bare plane
I will reveal
renewed in
my death
splendor in sea of eternity, value of true worth.


9.22.20
Just took a line from a poem and went with it...
https://poets.org/poem/wild-pansy


© Copyright 2024 He’s Brian K Compton (UN: ripglaedr3 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/profile/blog/ripglaedr3/day/9-22-2020