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(116)
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, a slow burn now. Life is full of misdirects right back to the start, you still quest with a thirst.

If they take time to notice, must be doing something right. Life of turmoil produces stuff like this. Not going to call it beautiful agony…it gets a bit uglier. Minced words too pungent.

scripturam in hoc non mutamus, quia stultus es et differentiam nescies.

hic honor, quem accepistis, non est operae pretium, sicut non est bonum.
*BigSmile*
si hoc legere potes, gratiarum actio pro tempore.

The beautiful mess you made.
         |
Without knowledge, who’s to judge?
         |
No gavel; no voice.

I had a lover's quarrel with the world - Robert Frost

         |
I'm sorry you got caught in the middle. - me

*Neurodivergent poet.
*I yearn to love without that fart in the room.
*Honesty without mincing words.
*Stay clear of those surrounded by rules.
*Real dialogue accepted.

Diagnosed with new disabilities in 2020: On the spectrum/ADHD (it gets complicated by PTSD and brain trauma). Been suggested by doctors I might want another brain scan. As it is: 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, find boundaries, no clue why, 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 t the next boob that walks by. *Clown*

Been more than I could imagine or expect. My achievements aren’t going on a LinkedIn wall. I dig deeper than I should, push boundaries. Aimless words, brave or veiled cowardice, flinchingly flung, inadvertently hit targets. Get a ‘back off’ shoulder shot when asking your motivations to write.

No prize to eye; not incentivized. Dealt the worst two cards before the flop, do the best with what you got.



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 "Epigram ‘n Aphorism Samwiches"
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 I Don’t Like My 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
February 28, 2022 at 8:39pm
February 28, 2022 at 8:39pm
#1027659
Quill Nominee Signature 2022
1st Taboo Words, 2/22
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

On a dust plain, you can see heat
distort dry fauna fading green.
My bones ache, but blooms in your eyes
distract, help me heal with precious,
amber light.

On shaded porch we rock and glide,
side by side all these years.
Silence so perfect, I kiss you
passionately, again,
feel the cicadas unrest and tremor.

We could strip to salt flesh I long to devour.
You stand to refill our lemonade.
My hand brushes the tender underside
of your boot cut denim.
Not long ‘til dinner, sunset in Sedona.

We can afford the loss of sunrise.
Cayenne canyon of soaring rock
fences us willingly within.
No taste for dinner but soft cotton.
Aroma of sandalwood encircles.
Hot limbs entwine and cool,
before I feel beating beneath breathing
and hold the tender core
like a baby.

Thankful, all these years
absorbing color of sunrises
and the view across a shared room.
You could be a memory, constant in dreams.
Somehow, here, my soul’s match.
I caught a star beneath an endless vault
in Sedona.

2.28.22
32 lines, freeverse

I'm going to ... SPOILER:
Cayenne canyon of rock surrounds two lovers in Sedona where he finds her heart beating.

FORUM
The Taboo Words Contest ~ On Hiatus  (13+)
create writing that has wings
#2139468 by Choconut ~ House Targaryen


February Prompt:
HEART

taboo words:
love
romance
blood
red
broken
or any derivatives of these words

Published in Wisconsin Fellowship of Poet's Publication, "Bramble", 8/2022. Last two lines cut...my choice.
February 23, 2022 at 10:57pm
February 23, 2022 at 10:57pm
#1027317
Life like window shopping coffins, knowing
I'm headed for a dark jar that a lone soul
will be purposed to clutch, feel the heft
and probably give a little shake, muttering
some final words for ash with more purpose
than this container I occupy beside you.

Roses could lay upon my mouth, coins
could straddle dull eyelids, but what purpose
for flesh freshly embalmed with a painted face
that could no more emote in an early afterlife
than the 100 years it will take for me to lay down
and give up this ghost to inhale a final breath.

The lights shining directly in my eyes, misdirect.
The dim light of a mortuary, maybe a few will reflect.
The chairs they stack and the hall swept keep
ready again to receive the lonely dead like me
who spent an entire life in futility trying to remember
what they came here for, as the sun rises again.


2.23.22

who knows me here, or anywhere, especially, after I'm gone?
February 20, 2022 at 7:25pm
February 20, 2022 at 7:25pm
#1027115
I try to smooth the steel edges and then hop back in. Mirrors adjusted, I see where you are, a pilot in hind view (backseat).

In the throes of January, it’s a mystery why she’s deceased. We looked through the obituary for clues. Someone just like us, but different in one way: dead. Really dead.

Our vehicle is getting warmer. But soon your distraction is well seen, and settled in my cockpit I go.

The mirror is clean, yet from this vista I get a dim view. For 60 long years an immaculate machine in and out of repair always attuned to you.

As my engine revs, all I notice is a lonely horizon. How many times when you exit this cabin did I consider a journey alone? Instead, I wonder aloud, should I turn here? You say, try again.
Should I drive straight,
I ask. Again, try again.

All my life wondering how’s my driving, where are we going, I wonder why you don’t sit up front or take the wheel.

I start to question the need for repair, tune ups or even a garage. I forgot the true purpose of this machine I’m steering through sleet on arctic snow.

I think of the words that will be chosen and paid for print. Dying is not free. This whole life and stubborn machine are wrought with cost.

Under the hood, I rewire and rewire until I don’t know what goes to what anymore. An entire life trying to perfect something I did not create, overhauled and rebuilt…to go in direction that is meant.

But in order to not be a lonely traveler, I accepted you as navigator and reluctant co-pilot. And from the backseat, you seem to have directed me. Request you take the wheel, you deflect.

Maybe, I’ll steer this thing into the river. No. I forget the cost. The sun is directly in my eyes as I dream sundown into lonely, equatorial senectitude.


2.20.22

I plead for understanding in the midst of my own ignorance.
February 20, 2022 at 7:00am
February 20, 2022 at 7:00am
#1027087
I don't think e.e. thought to ponder why WE might think ourselves important while feeling diminished in an endless plight to overcome. weak, sometimes, yes. but, I am undeniable. yet, I fail, or feel as if, unrecognized.

someone out there has leveraged power. I am unsuccessful as yet at lighting my lamp on their flame. maybe, I will get a spark of my own, as yet. maybe, I have flint. but, tinder? then, firewood? and, keep it going? now, i feel tired. I'll be back later to try again.

sharpen those pencils. and light that screen. I'm coming inside again and again until I'm dead.

2.20.22 (dated)

and yes, I realize what I just said. it's a process. and if it gets you nowhere but chasing yet another metaphor, then yes, like that.


February 20, 2022 at 6:28am
February 20, 2022 at 6:28am
#1027086
what am I thinking about now?

sometimes, I'm in that place
when I realize the chair back lean
with hands enlaced behind head,
view angled toward the north wall.

mid-process is where I land.

sometimes, you don't get answers
but more questions to ponder.
what is real is how much time spent
in consideration of life's machine.

what is eating me now?

I may continue to ponder in this place,
resolute to stare at peeling paint.
I may dream of a beach from time to time,
knowing it's just erosion caused by time.

mid-process is where I'll stay

until I'm buried in my own sand.



2.20.22
17 lines, free verse
Edited 2.26.22 with a new leaning.

Just caught myself thinking about the potential for a poem after edit and how the words might appear to others. then, realize how much time is wasted on things that give little reward, these little mysteries of curiosity openly composed, seen from here to that wall where my eyes suddenly focus on reality.

I could sell this house and sit on the beach next to her.

But, does it (the poem) always have to end in death with you (speaking to myself): another thought.

I either live in the past or in the future. the present can only be assessed in past. then, dream of what the present could be like. I guess, I'm not really here, uncelebrated.

Disclaimer?
clarification not needed. for the few that read, use your imagination or your own personal taste. these words I pen are never mine. I do not own a thing, literately (as we are in and then out of this world). I might bullshit you, figuratively. perhaps, as I look in your eye and see a gleam. aha, yes, I see you are on to me.

We have that in common.

This will tie up somehow, someday, when I re-read. Or not. and, move on to the next...

February 16, 2022 at 9:53pm
February 16, 2022 at 9:53pm
#1026846
I could tell you
life is supposed to be uneven
as I watch you tie on pretty blue bows.
the package looks a mess,
so much tape adhered.
I think back and wonder
when will it come unglued.

I leave your wrapping intact
with marvel of sacrifice,
a gift I have come to learn
never meant to be opened.

life has always been awkward
as a little one who could never learn
beauty is just a delusion
on printed paper, held by cellophane,
topped in looping curls never unfurled.

Put the scissors away and dream beneath
these primary lights
illuming dark illusion.
Smell green thicken, lying inside here.
Celebrate before the tree comes down.



2.16.22
2.20.22 edit
21 lines, free verse

not sure, but what we do might really be ugly and unhealthy, but gets us through life, anyway. we all die, anyway.

Quill Nominated Best Poetry Collection two consecutive years, 2020 and 2021.

February 16, 2022 at 9:39pm
February 16, 2022 at 9:39pm
#1026845
…but you’re not there

from our shore I swore I could smell
the mountain air —
majestic, stoic, lowering
in dull moon light, but less romantic
for one stiffly unbelieving.

water absorbed a string
of light-connecting beach fires,
collectively incinerating
bark-bare wood
combers in flannel and cardigans hauled.

wandering waves obediently encircled
our nimble toes stripped bare,
yet never dared run free,
or hand-in-hand down an extended scene,
because

I didn't know you and you never asked me
one single question,
while waiting
on friends to gather,
silence filling, building mystery.

a dull blue lake chilled darker
by minute time. my head clocked
infinite expansion in our vacuum
until it ran past limited eternity,
as long shadows finally interceded.

whenever smoke lifts to the moon,
my heart skips upon Superior blue.
I feel you idle next to me
in oversized, cable sweater,
swirls of over-applied sweet scent
mix in earthen-steeped steam.

I reach for your hand...



2.16.22
7.11.22
12.21.23 tweaks

unrequited can be the poet’s eternal disease. 2.20.22…and who cares now when I wrote that?

#romantic #summer #moon
February 16, 2022 at 8:46pm
February 16, 2022 at 8:46pm
#1026842
My organ throbbed love for fire red hair,
a cherub who
could not conceive her reflection,
a devilish grin
on pottery-glazed cheeks --
matter of fact
ignored blue piercing her green
when she openly spoke
to a crow.

and when we hit a smoky Lake Superior
with that college clan
who drank and dared
to bare skin,
one sweater castoff...
yours,
the only one who
stripped to panties,
when I shoved off on a long dark shore,
defeated.

I didn’t want to share you.
I didn’t want to know if
the yip, yip, yipping jackals
owned your body in moonlight...

until I realized:
too severe, stern, stoic,
an unknowable, self-protective
wall of man,
too afraid to go naked with you,
risk their judgement again
that night I lost you
to tumbling waves drowning out
a spirited animal baying.

I didn’t sacrifice and freeze virgin skin
in ice black air --
flesh dedicated only
to entwine another soul's warm container,
not be a public spectacle.

yet, not immoral, but
not my vision for you. and,
had I known we'd never table together again...
who knows?

I rejected myself, not you that night,
in pursuant days of abstinence
and regret and replayed scenarios --
cliché.

I hope life gave everything you wanted.
me...
not so certain, as this quandary might show,
still perplexed.



2.16.22
49 lines of long free verse

she skinny dipped. I didn't. No one else did. I wish I had. How could I? Not so much as a bare toe tested those waters back then.


February 14, 2022 at 7:14am
February 14, 2022 at 7:14am
#1026672
Like those little yellow labels
hungry with a thin sap
each of you pasted to a little man
who did not have a clue, cruel.

You were warm with sweat
when I was cold and afraid,
because I roamed without her love
in your sand lot domains.

You stickered me with your notes
because you could not conceive
of someone with so much love,
sunlight you could not contain.

Thus, rejected a greasy blond boy
with runny nose in mismatched clothes,
tear-streaked cheeks pleased
your declarations of what I was not.

But, separated from her apron,
who was I to cling to and trust
before I learned on my lonely own
you are the fictitious one, and

peeled the pale skin,
scrubbed it clean to reveal a glow
you could never stain or blemish
with paper and glue, or

the uneducated part of you
that used labels like division
in your mind, because a little boy
could kiss you out of love.


2.14.22

They labeled me gay because I loved. I became afraid of myself before I knew what I truly felt, pity for their ignorance.
Hey, I was as much a fool, just not as desperately mean to hurt others to protect myself.
February 14, 2022 at 6:47am
February 14, 2022 at 6:47am
#1026670
Merit Badge in Shadows and Light
[Click For More Info]

Hi Brian,

Congratulations on placing 3rd in  [Link To Item #shadows]  with your fantastic poem,  [Link To Item #2290191] .

Here is another S&L MB to add to your extensive collection.

Rachel *^*Heartv*^*
Dandelions Kissed
Roaming yellow fields of love in youth before the end of innocence.

I'm a child now, puffing your downy head,
lifted light
on seamless waves,
consuming oxygen, time and sky
reaching hidden stars and gooey Milky Way.
Somehow, this aged memory thrives.

Imagination better than a setting sun,
blond hair flowed,
lemon hands and feet roamed.
Blown puffs sent
filamentous achenes from dead dandelions,
our wasted time,
before waking to her warning clock.

Freely held hands felt foolish
when they told us stop
displaying tender emotions,
vulnerabilities that laid in a once yellow field.
Never imagined two lips parting,
buss warm beneath a buzzing vault.

Gentle, we clutched and tugged
each stem of time,
separated from rich veins
of an infinite, golden patch
to raise up and declare this unending love,
blowing kisses to approving clouds above.



25 lines, free verse

Too young in those early years to know true love, but warned the closer we neared its hot core.

https://www.imperial.ac.uk/news/236934/engineers-uncover-secret-thinking-behind-...

original

"Paper And Glue #rejection #love #youth
February 13, 2022 at 9:11am
February 13, 2022 at 9:11am
#1026609
We're all kinds of ugly
and deserve love.
I see your loneliness
like mine waiting
for eternal sunshine.

We're two birds
with ruffled feathers,
similar but alike.
We are fowl
and a stream rushes
so fast between us.

We seek the sun
when it's safe to play.
Awkward and silent,
hide where we roll and yip
in the fresh grass.

We're all ugly,
deserve love
and want to play
with one another
if only we could find a way
to say, 'Hi.'

Hi.

2.13.22

February 13, 2022 at 9:04am
February 13, 2022 at 9:04am
#1026607
You see eyes narrowed
a man seething
heaving ugly words scarring
a mess, when he
is just a child wielding weapons
he wasn't meant to swing,
untrained to the disciplined,
patient eye, waiting
for you to be the parent, say
no
He rampages through your soul
because you are as weak
as the toddler. Accept
he needs love
just like you desire, because
he can love you too
if you don't hold so tight
to your own
mortalitty.
Before you press that cancel,
remember
we are all human.


2.13.22

Just saying, cancel culture and telling people what they can or cannot say is between facist and dystopian. It takes a community to help the ignorant catch up to speed, if you don't shame the way you feel and love the way you can to help others who might seem threatening but can be easy to know in kind if you try.
I acknowledge, a few are untrainable. But we must find ways to co-exist.
February 12, 2022 at 12:16pm
February 12, 2022 at 12:16pm
#1026539
I don't hate myself.
It's just easier than loving you,
beautiful mystery.

My skin longs caress
with the simplest sweetness like
everlasting candy.

I can't savor love;
not easily defined, fleeting temptress
I see undress.

I don't hate you,
in silence contemplating turbulence
by this open sea.

I don't hate,
sparkling, a container full of redeeming wine;
a dusty bottle

I don't hate myself.
Temperate in the dark, stowed on shelf,
waiting discovery.

Sorry, if I'm not looking for you.



2.12.22
19 lines, free verse
February 10, 2022 at 9:00pm
February 10, 2022 at 9:00pm
#1026434
The Merit Of Looks

By your scalpel’s edge I could beg
sew back up this waste of skin
just let sag
wires gray
stray
addled head couldn’t conceive romance
with other dead in decay

vibrant red, a dream lifetimes away.
Vitals encased restrain swoon
when your lovely bodice brushes soft fibers
In our shared room.
Using mirrors, I take account
how you deploy your gaze,
consider this shadowed figure,
unintended mystery.

Maybe posture, lack of return,
I notice your attention veers away,
as gray melds in black night
into a tumbler of colored ice
a man melting,
legs straddling a dead leather-top horse.

With surgical snips
and about 10k
would she be in my arms., anyway?


2.8.22

She doesn’t read me.
February 10, 2022 at 9:59am
February 10, 2022 at 9:59am
#1026402
The snowman winters in our hallway.
Not every day.
Just when the cats are at play.
Greets us in the morning
when we’re late risers and we haven’t fed the beasts.

All since Christmas
when the decorations were out
and we were celebrating,
the plush fellow with sewn on scarf
cavorted on the floor between their paws
like a puck they chased.

The snowman lifelessly looks up at me now
begging his return to the Christmas box.
The reindeer, elf, jolly man wait.
He is done celebrating this extended season.

After I finish my coffee, okay?
The attic is especially cold.

Originally 12/31/21
Posted/edited: 2/10/22

February 2, 2022 at 3:31pm
February 2, 2022 at 3:31pm
#1025902
Burning With Time

Not the shimmer of gold-leafed monuments,
Nor handsome silver outlive beauteous rhyme.
Your crystal shines, less bright in these contents,
Stoic as stone smoothened by churn of time.

Crumbling statues etched with lonely concern,
On masonry made, seem ordinary.
But with trembling sword, a quick fire did burn
Eternal record of your memory.

Eroded visions shine eternal doom,
Rising to meet lonely wanderer’s eyes.
Set forth, your praises fill a Sultan’s tomb,
Hopeful, as posterity seeks the skies.

Written on blue vault, true romantic blue,
Only time knows how my heart burns for you.



2.6.22
Sonnet
We cannot know if memorialized love will last, but look to the sky that fills with stars and mark time.


February 2, 2022 at 3:14pm
February 2, 2022 at 3:14pm
#1025901
Like your finger deep
in my full red wine,
your skin wets to sample,
your eyes linger, never leave
my wondering —
will you taste anything more?
Is burgundy bitter,
beginning to turn with age?
Who couldn’t savor, yet
you are not at my cup?

Long ago, a moment replayed —
hope when a vine was not fully mature.
And though we desired something cheap,
imbibed enough
for one to forget.

Now that I’m hardy, you could
tip my glass to your lips.
I’ll pour it out,
with nothing else to offer
but the last draught
from a dusty, green vessel.

The vineyard produces much more,
but I’m afraid
none spared ever again
for me.


2.2.22

written to:

"Say Something
February 2, 2022 at 2:40pm
February 2, 2022 at 2:40pm
#1025897
I had empathy for the love starved
before I was underfed
could not find a trough next to yours
now will a gold, engraved plate
to dine on their tender mercies
whenever you need
when suddenly I realized
how my father felt.
But what is this?
Why do I still starve?


2.2.22
February 2, 2022 at 2:33pm
February 2, 2022 at 2:33pm
#1025895
With a finger waggled,
she can get all the love I need.
With a wink or sad expression,
she has them eating out of her paw —

while I,
who humanly hungers,
learns to curb craving
while starving of affection
in the darkness of sadness —
yearning to reach out,
feel human touch,
but know
if I approach,
they will revile the slothsome
judged unworthy.

I could give comfort to her
to heal myself.
She knows and denies me that,
slowly suffocating,
killing me,
a prisoner of shame and guilt —

burden from mother
saddles a weak soul in savaged form
savoring small scraps alone.
pathetic creature collects to survive
in obliterated, cold space
like any incipient void would.

I don’t cry out
because you will point out
what is akin to bitterness —
your final, manipulative move
to know you own all in my world
that i need to survive.


2/2/22


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