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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/profile/blog/ripglaedr3/month/11-1-2022
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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 25, 2022 at 8:37am
November 25, 2022 at 8:37am
#1041012
Reflecting Mortality

a thin vision near

Drawn down
while you’re stuck
chasm I can’t cross
no magic in imagination to build a bridge
see you gaze at my emerald
as I peer down on your ruby

you fierce clutch your animal

I built these ethereal castles
that topple from stones
I see you place your beast aside
by the river
gleaming flowing
smoothing a bed
where you could punch through a surface
to clutch its offering
when my clouds appear

a portal takes me back
away
before you can take me down
into that unknown


11.25.22
November 25, 2022 at 8:36am
November 25, 2022 at 8:36am
#1041011
Each time I open the pantry door now
to deposit them
in the brown paper bag
held inside the receptacle, I scoff
“say hello to the Pacific Ocean for me.”
There’s major breakthroughs in the field of bullshit
while we believe we save a periled planet
one recycled Pepsi 20-ounce bottle at a time.
Cut apart those six plastic rings…for Flipper.
Bottle-nosed.

11.21.22
November 25, 2022 at 8:34am
November 25, 2022 at 8:34am
#1041010
Little Gourd

I witnessed the plumpest gourd blossom
on its vine --
yellow, flower-topped, sere soul embedded
beneath backyard pine.

It didn’t need much sunshine.
Withered, bloom tapered brown, it dropped
after sundown, when ripening stopped.

Not cold, inert, slow shriveling
during our dry days. Dark veggie
inspired so much hope in those rays.
Lone, bright bell, detached,

hard-melded a be-pricked surface.
Silent glossed by eventual frost,
my heart sank somewhere around midnight.

It wasn't better in sunlight. Fewer gourds
appear each year, for an ignorant farmer
who still cannot conceive how he erred.
How much more could I have cared?

Not much I can do. Till, fertilize,
close the bed until spring. Plant again.

How long am I to toil before hope runs out
for a little gourd to feed from that stem?


11.24.22
Reap what you sow
My toil with words bears hopeful fruit appreciating with time.
It's really about raising my kids.




For quill 2021 winners

BOOK
Life’s Little Misdirections 🥀🦋  (18+)
10k views, 2x BestPoetryCollection. A nothing from nowhere cast words to a world wide wind
#1149750 by He’s Brian K Compton
November 18, 2022 at 4:52pm
November 18, 2022 at 4:52pm
#1040807
buds of chrysanthemum

the mums went silent in their pots
on the porch step
since frost
since snow fell over night

white woven with green,
chin hairs
pierce a soft blanket yielding,
receding
past a naked maple clinging
to precarious, withered offspring,
iced

yellow-peaked
porch blooms poke,
penetrate our early shadows

they’ll not die easy

brave buds of chrysanthemum,
bright, beautiful,
crisp as new winter weather

greet me


11.18.22

just looking out my window at something that I could take care of
November 4, 2022 at 2:46pm
November 4, 2022 at 2:46pm
#1040262
A GROUNDBREAKING ADVANCEMENT IN THE FIELD OF OBSOLESCENCE


Me

Every damn day


Then, mothballs

Unzip

Return heroically, again

Get stapled to wall

Work all day to free myself
relentlessly

Fly into the ceiling fan

fall

pick myself up

Say, 'Aha! You didn't foil me that time.'

Look at watch and yawn

Back to the mothball haven


10 hours later

pour two black cups

sweeten, add cream

chug chug chug

off i go on adventure

splat!

This’ll take a little longer

So on and so forth


It goes like that

i marvel at life

what it throws at me

Doesn't know

i return every damn day

pelted by rain

stung by sleet

fluffed by flakes

frozen in gales

zip
up
tighter

trudge

move my iron shovel

move a mountain

move a heavy frame

enter the inner portal

warm, again

sing in steam shower

dry

binge forgotten television


stop wondering about existentialism for a few hours

Fatalistic?


Bed

try to sleep

write write write
stuff like this

until my eyes...

should i?

no

sleep


wake

Some days, remind
we forget the mothballs

still bound about a planet
aim for sky

trip, fall
pick ourselves up

don't care if anyone sees
but try something less dangerous

crossword

spend day in bed
back in head

write again

dream

write more

fantasize

write into a corner
something too long for any printed publication

outmoded in 15 minutes time

delusion?
no, pretty sure it's not


Incredible

i can do all this

and have time for more
in(s)anity

Don't see very well —

judgment

shaming

shunning

or is it paranoia?

nope

just indifference
maybe, gaslighting



i can accept
i'm average

keep leaping over higher and higher mounts
pull tall ships from harbor to sea

chug chug chug-a-lug-gug-gug

write write write

mothballs

zip

sleep...perchance...


coda ~

you think you can manipulate and control me, life?

watch what i do

duck and slide

move to side

Throw your worst at me

don't care if I live or die

i'm as valueless at birth

as i will be below the womb

in dirt

Be careful of my loved ones

they profit from my demise

more space in the mothball tent

less of my words to eat.


11.4.22

Hello, non-existant publisher? Oh, yeah. It's just a lighted wall with very low wattage. Plug me in??

I only mean this in the most expressive of senses. I don't live with disregard but respect. In defense of the death benefit portion of policy.


© 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/month/11-1-2022