*Magnify*
◄     February     ►
SMTWTFS
    
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
Archive RSS
SPONSORED LINKS
BY ONLINE AUTHORS
Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/profile/blog/ripglaedr3/month/2-1-2024
Printer Friendly Page Tell A Friend
(116)
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 ▼
February 29, 2024 at 10:47pm
February 29, 2024 at 10:47pm
#1065292


Con-cocked

I’m the envelope you fill with your craft,
Red paper hearts strung in a row enter this soul.
When I’m sealed, stamped by your tender hand
Deliver me to that destined land.

The warmth of your crimson constructive
Lip-sticks me from within from your heat.
Our delivered fate from post I’ll inscribe
With saturate ink pursed lips imbibed.

2.29.24

In progress…



 
STATIC
Intertwine  (13+)
Destined love should arrive, be marked for all time. (For WDC Heartthrob Poet)
#2315150 by He’s Brian K Compton


Rock Bottom ▼

Well, I entered before last day of month end... *Confused* 🫤
February 24, 2024 at 2:33pm
February 24, 2024 at 2:33pm
#1064807
It’s always been there (my poem), but you don’t notice or care to admit…

In their version, The Marías slow the story down while also cutting it short at just over two minutes. Yet so much differs throughout those 125 seconds. The “...Baby One More Time” cover welcomes listeners with a quiet and gentle guitar melody. Within seconds, Zardoya enters with a soft, raspy tone, pleading for one more chance. Softly layering her voice as the mesmerizing background vocal, there's a much more intimate feeling than the original. Within the first half minute, Zardoya sets a guilty tone as she sings, “I shouldn’t have let you go…” There’s a regretful implication as her voice quivers. Then, she declares, “There’s nothing that I shouldn’t do / It's not the way I planned it.” The subtle change from Spears’ more innocent “wouldn’t” to The Marías’ “shouldn’t” places the responsibility on the singer for her past mistakes in love. Zardoya is not pleading with the promise of doing whatever it takes to save the relationship; she understands she should be the one to make the effort to salvage it. Then, instead of singing “It's not the way I planned it,” Zardoya speaks this line with a disgruntled tone, as if she's tired of having to defend her intentions.


"grind on this (MV)" 

https://www.afterglowatx.com/blog/2023/5/8/cover-story-the-maras-make-a-relaxing...

It’s ‘not the way I planned it’…none ever do…plan. Yet, manipulation everywhere I look. Hit me baby one more time??

I’ve been writing since the first black eye…
February 24, 2024 at 10:43am
February 24, 2024 at 10:43am
#1064781
The Small Voices (Not A Windmill’s Chance…without my brother)

I wish I had a nickel
for every time
she pointed out
that’s just how it is now
like I’m ignorant … like
I’m surprised life had made me it’s bitch …

but a small voice
that isn’t harmonized,
that isn’t paired by another
in tune … isn’t
harmony …

and … when did life
make you so smart … ?
and … made you its bitch??
as the two of you laugh at me right now
fitted for plastic armor?
readied for any situation …
big or small …
pierce with my pointy stick
while wheeling atop a uni-cycle I call stead … ??

precarious, I know … but
brave?
to fight alone knowing
it’s more than life that’s hurtful
that wants to make me their bitch … ??
because …
bitch-slapped.

it’s easier taking down the labeled Quixote
(reckless, feckless),
than lance these giant demons —
machines designed,
sluicing the weather around us,
taking our energy,
harvesting our electricity
to deplete good souls
to short out … not grounded to any element,
chained to that grist …

railing
with clenched fist … toppled:

and there you are standing over me.
I see through this visor
what you intimate …
what you intone …
like a coward
you pick on the weakest thing
planted in the dirt of a machination’s shadow …

you’re lucky I see you
and not a windmill
(that I look up
and not down on you…
where you say
my poem should have ended …
there. It
never
ends …)

but for a small dagger
life goes on
without my brother.

2.24.24

I made last 3 lines its own statement than attach to the poem machine because it is the only thing that could separate, yet like throwaway lines only a fool/man would consider

In post.. taking up the gauntlet ?
while everyone else is saying back away from it

because they can’t control me or think me a fool with it?
I have no doubts
Yet, labeled to make me feel reckless, feckless
I hold on to it, sleep with it…
not to feel safe … but the closest thing to kinship I have in this world
it’s that side of myself everyone denies me access to…
won’t realize or accept
I live in two worlds just to feel whole in one
because
cowards
and what do they sleep with…?

WHAT HAVE I TO HIDE?
Oops, I left caps on… *Laugh* and I’m not going to fix…cuz…??

Not going to be a bitch to ML either…
February 23, 2024 at 10:57pm
February 23, 2024 at 10:57pm
#1064762
Against a woolen sweater that was blue
Thats all that I remember of you
Before you learned to walk, I learned to run
I guess the ants really go marching one by one
When a train rolls in, the doors open, I get in

Last night I had a pleasant nightmare
La da da da
La da da da
La da da da, da da da

there's an ocean formed outside my bedroom door
on the sleepless nights I listen to it roar
there's a road too long to walk, too steep to climb
at the end of it, is what you left behind
and when that train rolls in
the doors open, don't get in

last night I had, a pleasant nightmare
La da da da
La da da da
La da da da, da da

- Emily Kapnek

transcribed

R.I.P. Mike
February 16, 2024 at 6:03pm
February 16, 2024 at 6:03pm
#1064300
Someone knocked all those balls I was juggling out of the sky.I suddenly have a new view of the world.


© 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.

Log in to Leave Feedback
Username:
Password: <Show>
Not a Member?
Signup right now, for free!
All accounts include:
*Bullet* FREE Email @Writing.Com!
*Bullet* FREE Portfolio Services!
Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/profile/blog/ripglaedr3/month/2-1-2024