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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 ▼
November 18, 2021 at 9:31am
November 18, 2021 at 9:31am
#1021862
No one knows how to sew anymore.

There's a thread that got loose,
snagged and tore
beautiful cloth
woven to form the shape of your body
that you look at now
with such scorn
that it must be thrown out.

It's not easy to repair
with a needle and complimentary thread
by hand or machine,
not even worthy of donation
to some charity
for repurpose,
but to rot in some hole in the earth
that heavy equipment bury
with so much more sorrow,
lost in a landfill of bright hope,
driven underground.

Mother is buried there, too.

Meanwhile,
there is always some new fashion
to try on,
rather than seek the comfort of
an old sweater.

Perhaps, some of us
keep these mementos of the past,
filling drawers with regret that we never
learned from her
how to sew.

Pull that drawer open,
look and sigh
and wait to die,
wishing you had courage,
wishing not
to have to look anymore.

This needle I wield pricks.


11.18/24.21
1.19.22 last line add

37 lines, free verse
November 18, 2021 at 8:20am
November 18, 2021 at 8:20am
#1021856
Not
morose thoughts
of life after death
surfacing,
air escaping,
dreaming of some
accepting heaven.
Not
foolish thoughts
to finalize
surfacing,
but escape,
dream of some
haven embracing
a lone refugee.

Why
do these
minuscule prisoners
seek asylum,
to free my brain?
They teem
and bond and
offer credence
surfacing,
clouds of steam
producing enough water
to send
a surging river
seeking, yearning
freedom of thought:
break
the levee.

Where
will I flow then?


11/18/21

note ▼
November 10, 2021 at 5:52pm
November 10, 2021 at 5:52pm
#1021343
Hazel eyes widened,
gathered light,
became amber-glowing —
two suns rising on our horizon.

I wanted to behold longer
but my own eyes wandered
to the spreading smile —
two soft, red lips,
shapely like her heart.

Did her cheeks blush,
body elongate to receive
this solemn figure?
Her chest puffed,
as did mine with pride
that this woman would greet
so fondly a solemn man
standing on the bow
of some great ship.

A spool sputtered inked tape.
A chance transaction ended
before newfound courage
could discover a route
to her hidden Atlantis.


11.10.21
12.31.21 edit plus add

borrowing from another writer to perfect amber eyes description.
November 10, 2021 at 6:14am
November 10, 2021 at 6:14am
#1021307
I’ll just start driving through the neighborhoods of my mind
         - nothing is what I remember -
if I sleep
I dream all unfamiliar people
         - oil paintings drip to the floor,
         beg me step in the puddled colors,
         walk new images from feet to my family home -
it’s a mess...

like a bridge
I could dream this vision to the past, too.
but construct it with my waking mind,
hoping to reawaken what long has been idle
         - so I can meet you again -
         - man in the mirror that no one seems to know -
         - I forget him too -

I walk through these neighborhoods in my mind.
no one home.

11.7.21
11.10.21
11.21.21 last edit?

I may never finish this...uh, metaphor...I took a stab at it.
November 10, 2021 at 6:11am
November 10, 2021 at 6:11am
#1021306
From The Sideline (Watching Cancel Culture)

My life is unlearn everything you know,
or components of it,
but figure out on your own which parts. Or,
just throw yourself out.
Or, just accept you’re defective, reduced to public scorn,
labeled a Karen or Boomer, some kind of racist.
Just conform already
(when you figure it out, straighten out, resubmit yourself for consideration)
and get with the flow
(or fake it perfectly),
keeping your head low
(knowing ageism is around every corner),
and maybe, no one will call you out.

You might survive this
(or it redirects, changes mid-stream in 15 minutes)
as you eye the cellar of your thoughts.
There’s no escape from drama or indifference.

Be neither protagonist or villain and watch and cringe
or laugh from the sideline.
Let’s not learn their game, okay?

half-time, fourth quarter, two-minute warning, heading to overtime?
You, with your sports metaphors. Take a timeout.


11/10/21
November 8, 2021 at 7:26am
November 8, 2021 at 7:26am
#1021130
I can save the world, civilization, with a pen stroke.
mankind survives on my words, illuminated, projected
in a universe, inner sanctum -- postings from an underworld
where words are flesh-eating monsters ravaging all.

my pen is bright Excalibur wielded in informative fashion,
that I might save the ignorant, defenseless against famine
for words bleeding on luminescent pages like ink
but don't stain, revolve on waves of intermittent light
wavering throughout these shared galaxies of rubble,
shine through channels and portals mirrored and deflected,
bouncing off each rock into a black space without gravity,
boundless for some other cosmos in hopes someone will hear.

I can save the world if I write these odes to someone who'll listen.

I am not infinite, trapped in a bottle of time, cast to a sea
that rolls away from this orb on waves out to a heaven somewhere,
should it exist, unlike the purgatory I now realize
eating me and all mankind from within while we look out.

is there some message of hope out there like mine? wait.
I haven't said anything yet, because it's all just a dream.
all of this is the collective imagination of something greater,
if you listen to mouths with way too much money, like elon musk.


11.8.21
12.10.21

just some nonsense. or is it? unedited or edited. let me go back to sleep and if I wake up...

Short Version:
Turn The Page ▼
November 7, 2021 at 12:11pm
November 7, 2021 at 12:11pm
#1021073
The Unpinning

I'm going to tell you why I don't need your love
and then turn
as if
to someone else for a hug
and remember why I'm alone,

why I slumber in a blanket fort of dreams
constructed in my child mind,
clinging like those clothes pins
to innocence
since you dragged me out,
asked me to play,
taught me your games,
told me I played wrong.

You told me I let you down when we lost,
bluntly told everything
that was wrong with me,
then treated me indifferently
when you had other friends,
sending me to solitude

to think what I had done decades long,
forcing others to experience my pain,
relived again and again
with every grubby face
evilly staring back.

how to purge this hatred you taught me,
how to live in a fortress
with someone who'll help me take down the pins,
fold and store the bedding neatly,
sparing a few to sleep on
and dream
like I did when I was a kid.

but as a grown man, I only see forward
a grave
and no flowers,
because you killed everything that blooms.


11.7.21
4.9.23

finding myself and not blaming me, or others, but the cruel, vicious life cycle I wasn't prepared for.
to say I have a new tormentor is erroneous. but, say I discovered the truth about mean kids and how they set out to destroy you, thinking it would make them bigger people for swallowing innocent souls. My soul has long since been taken, succubus...succubi?
November 3, 2021 at 8:58pm
November 3, 2021 at 8:58pm
#1020771
Flurry at twilight, snow capped heads brushed
to the stomped upon mat

Waves of Autumn wash out,
as a fading sun collects black volume.

All our warmth in smiles, marrow-wracked,
legs gather by the stone mantel

The eager quick-claim chairs at her call.
Hunger sated with a final feast.

Harvest's remainder, shelved through Spring
on cool cellar shelves like treasures.

Beneath her quilts, reclined,
stuffed stiffs chew mints and marshmallow dreams.

Confections adorn the fireside table
for the tipplers and sippers of hot chocolate milk.


11.3.21
14 lines, free verse

FORUM
Thankful Poetry Contest  (13+)
An uplifting annual contest welcoming short poems about thanksgiving and gratitude.
#2235153 by 🌸 pwheeler - love joy peace


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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/profile/blog/ripglaedr3/month/11-1-2021