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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
March 25, 2020 at 8:04pm
March 25, 2020 at 8:04pm
#979190
Topsy and the Bystander Effect

Just like Luna Park Zoo
January, 1903
Fed your lit cigarette and
cyanide soaked carrots
Whipped for pleasure
by a "trainer"
this menace of your society stomped
Reduced by experiment
force fed 6600 volts of your direct current
Edison jealous of genius Tesla
demonstrated his true talent
A giant fell to death
before you're paying spectators
Bystanders without a cry against
such indignant cruelty
because I
was the mad beast.



Sorry I was ignorant to the Bystander Effect. But, you're going to sit there and tell me I'm wrong for feeling the victim?

I thought about googling this video to post here. I'm sorry. I won't be another:


"...Not just Topsy the Elephant, but a rather long series of animals, all of which had shown themselves to be a danger to humans. This included horses, lions, tigers, and bears. Edison was happy to oblige the state of NY in executing these “menaces to society,” by employing alternating current, but his ulterior motive was merely to show the world the danger of alternating current, invented by Nikola Tesla, his arch-rival. Edison’s direct current didn’t have the strength to electrocute an elephant, and he considered it safer.
So, on January 4, 1903, at Luna Park Zoo, Coney Island, Topsy was hooked up to Edison’s lighting plant, and electrocuted with 6,600 volts of AC. But this was after they fed her carrots that had been soaked in cyanide, just to be sure. They deemed Topsy to be a permanent threat to humans, as she had killed three handlers in three incidents, one of which involved a handler, who regularly whipped her, trying to feed her a lighted cigarette just to watch her suffer. She stomped on him.
1,500 people watched, and no one said a word in complaint. Edison filmed it, and the film is available on YouTube, if you feel like being outraged. The funny thing is that the ASPCA, which is supposed to protect the rights of animals, considered hanging to be cruel, as it would cause strangulation, not a snap of the neck, and yet had no problem with cyanide poisoning and electrocution."

You want to feel outraged, read these stories:

https://listverse.com/2009/11/02/10-notorious-cases-of-the-bystander-effect/

I'll leave you with this instead (SPOILER):

March 25, 2020 at 5:24pm
March 25, 2020 at 5:24pm
#979170
The Narrowing Way

Time stretches out on this forgotten highway
All the turn offs once spied have gone away
The scenery rushes past fast --
the setting sun melds with gas
obstacles glimmering spray
across my windshield
deflecting

Bright distractions of fading hope
dull in dismay
Why was I lead astray to chase you down
a narrowing, low way?

Dust eddies and spirals back down in patches where
my balding tires contact --
aprons warning to steer back
seek the straight, horizontal, equatorial byway
I'm chasing
slower than these daily rotations
that pin me, magnetized to axis
dirt road
weeds.

I brake to contemplate
Sorry I didn't notice you on this journey
My mind wandered to highway underpasses
and grasses, invaded by seeds on winds
(like me)
producing beautiful outgrowth
colors striking dry imagination
robotically set
to coast a time-lapsed drive 'til death.


3.25.20
Nothing has to mean anything
But we should experience something
Along the way


I'm not beautiful, you are --
I notice

March 23, 2020 at 6:09pm
March 23, 2020 at 6:09pm
#978955
I witnessed your praise of tedious insects
crawling across barren ground.
Heard you remark to the flutterings
On a budless bush.
You sing loud and long
For a brightly painted horizon,
Full of gases, blaring
Directly at me.

You are warming them
As I grow cold, distant,
As if swimming in the furthest reaches
Of a shared galaxy --
And you are my neighbor.
Why must I routinely bring you sugar?

I could crawl with them.
I could fly, sing and praise
Before the dawn.
If I do not continually carry a song
In my now buried chest
For someone so unchangeable, indifferent,
How do I still dwell?

I've considered all the beauty
From the ground to cosmos.
You are the one thing less beauteous
For all I can see.
You are my neighbor,
Not my soul's landlord.

"Invalid Item
March 23, 2020 at 5:40pm
March 23, 2020 at 5:40pm
#978954
In My Chamber

What I produce in your house
Echoes within four walls.
The casings grow thicker from dark paint.
Through all these years
I've sung, hoping
Break the ceiling, reach
An everlasting roof.

Windows reveal eternal night.
Doors seal shut in my chamber.
One moth in cedar tall once
Sought escape, fluttering
To the tender grip
Of death. Icy fingers
Clutch pipes where
I've dwelt -- reasonably.

--This --
With windows wide,
Escapes temporary dreams
To an endless sky.
You sealed me here.
But, I still dare what’s doable.
-- This --
Is my chamber -- this --
Is where I dwell.

Black hell, where dreams
And nightmares
Come and go,
You dwell, too --
Remove shoes to climb inside
This -- dark enclosure
where I produce screams.

** Image ID #2217627 Unavailable **

31 lines
freeverse
March 17, 2020 at 5:29pm
March 17, 2020 at 5:29pm
#978393
From a Facebook poster:

Excellent explanation per a medical professional: "Feeling confused as to why Coronavirus is a bigger deal than Seasonal flu? Here it is in a nutshell. I hope this helps. Feel free to share this to others who don’t understand...

It has to do with RNA sequencing.... I.e. genetics.

Seasonal flu is an “all human virus”. The DNA/RNA chains that make up the virus are recognized by the human immune system. This means that your body has some immunity to it before it comes around each year... you get immunity two ways...through exposure to a virus, or by getting a flu shot.

Novel viruses, come from animals.... the WHO tracks novel viruses in animals, (sometimes for years watching for mutations). Usually these viruses only transfer from animal to animal (pigs in the case of H1N1) (birds in the case of the Spanish flu). But once one of these animal viruses mutates and starts to transfer from animals to humans... then it’s a problem, Why? Because we have no natural or acquired immunity.. the RNA sequencing of the genes inside the virus isn’t human, and the human immune system doesn’t recognize it so, we can’t fight it off.

Now.... sometimes, the mutation only allows transfer from animal to human, for years it’s only transmission is from an infected animal to a human before it finally mutates so that it can now transfer human to human... once that happens..we have a new contagion phase. And depending on the fashion of this new mutation, thats what decides how contagious, or how deadly it’s gonna be..

H1N1 was deadly....but it did not mutate in a way that was as deadly as the Spanish flu. It’s RNA was slower to mutate and it attacked its host differently, too.

Fast forward.

Now, here comes this Coronavirus... it existed in animals only, for nobody knows how long...but one day, at an animal market, in Wuhan China, in December 2019, it mutated and made the jump from animal to people. At first, only animals could give it to a person... But here is the scary part.... in just TWO WEEKS it mutated again and gained the ability to jump from human to human. Scientists call this quick ability, “slippery”

This Coronavirus, not being in any form a “human” virus (whereas we would all have some natural or acquired immunity). Took off like a rocket. And this was because, Humans have no known immunity...doctors have no known medicines for it.

And it just so happens that this particular mutated animal virus, changed itself in such a way the way that it causes great damage to human lungs..

That’s why Coronavirus is different from seasonal flu, or H1N1 or any other type of influenza.... this one is slippery AF. And it’s a lung eater...And, it’s already mutated AGAIN, so that we now have two strains to deal with, strain s, and strain L....which makes it twice as hard to develop a vaccine.

We really have no tools in our shed, with this. History has shown that fast and immediate closings of public places has helped in the past pandemics. Philadelphia and Baltimore were reluctant to close events in 1918 and they were the hardest hit in the US during the Spanish Flu.

Factoid: Henry VIII stayed in his room and allowed no one near him, till the Black Plague passed...(honestly...I understand him so much better now). Just like us, he had no tools in his shed, except social isolation...

And let me end by saying....right now it’s hitting older folks harder... but this genome is so slippery...if it mutates again (and it will). Who is to say, what it will do next.

Be smart folks... acting like you’re unafraid is simply unintelligent right now.

#flattenthecurve. Stay home folks... and share this to those that just are not catching on."
March 15, 2020 at 9:52am
March 15, 2020 at 9:52am
#978156


Hunger could consume the sounds
The hot air, distance between us
Indigestible for so long, your dirt
Grinds inside my mouth
Can't swallow, won't go down
Any more, won't
Subject myself

I ate a vocabulary full of stuff
That left a sour taste

My greed was my own, prompted to try
I dined naked at your buffet
Until you said enough
The lights one-by-one go out and
I don't know what to do with myself
When I wake

Sunlight streaming in reminds me life
Is ready to begin
Again
But I won't get up, get out,
Get away because I stayed
Too long and now
There's dirt on my lips
From your buffet

I dreamed about a different place,
Wound up here
My feet like lead
Weigh me down
Can't see inside my head
Dream like I once did
You took it all away
Where I once saw love mingle
At your dirt buffet.

Am I the only one left
Who feels this way?
It's too late to go
So, in dirt gloom I sit defiled
Until all the suns go down
On your stage.


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#2211526 by Not Available.



You can't blame me for my weakness, because you exploited it, then shame me (publicly, isolately) to go away
March 7, 2020 at 9:31am
March 7, 2020 at 9:31am
#977400
Broken Pieces

We, the crusaders (denied, disheartened),
step over the suffering to get to
the other ailing,
because they are more downtrodden, like us,
to lift up.
until we see their downcast faces like mirrors,
broken, but somewhere inside hide,
imagine piece together and
realize in this process:
different.

We hold those broken pieces like our DNA,
near our hearts,
without acknowledging what we fail reconstruct
are pieces of ourselves,
lost in the righteous fray,
railing for the rights of the other oppressed
like us, don’t fight
to get back the shiny fragments,
mirrors of spirited souls,
to reconstruct.



3.7.20
edited 2.12.22

We are the oppressed but deflect in saintly righteousness that ignorantly self serves, maybe? I'm supposed to sound uncertain.

downtrodden can mean so many things right there on the head of a needle. If it pricks, blood everywhere.
March 2, 2020 at 11:42pm
March 2, 2020 at 11:42pm
#976931
Quiet Now (No Audience For This)

The dead are forgotten.
Are you dead if not remembered?
Am I in a tomb of my own making?
Have I not stirred on this earth?
Shushed by the whispers of those
Giving honor to quiet? Of the dead?

I am not alive, and, forgotten
Because I built walls of silence
Around myself to soften whispers,
Derisive, using my name to shun,
To scorn, to silence.

Like a child with hands ruled to lap,
Or purposed in pants pockets,
I dare not gesticulate these notions,
Uncouth to you with no respect
Of introspect within the lining
Of this coffin I'm fit in.

I'm not hollow. I'm not you.
I want to rise before mortuary,
Grab your coroner's scalpel
Before one red drop drained,
Brood upon the sterile table,
Proclaim worth in this cold vault.

Let me out! Or,
Let me in,
Because I do not know where begin
If you won't notice what
I've been trying to say.

It's stuffy in my box.
Cut a hole for ventilation.
I know it's headed for the ground.
My only hope, frozen,
Shovel dull.

Oh, eulogy!? I've written it,
Speak myself at a service
For the sallow flesh.
Delighted I might have mourners?
Just don't forget to embalm.
Wouldn't want to look ugly
Amid potential, black-veiled grief.
Bet they critique my black attire
In motionless state.

Afterthought:
Better yet, cremate me.
No vase, no mantel.
Cast me to the wind!
Hope in your face?

Yup, I'm giving up. You win.

Oops, forget to hit RECORD.
Where to begin again?

I'll be quiet now.
No audience for this.

Suitable, scenic words of scented, verdant fauna
is down the hall. Follow your nose.
I'm the one who's lost.
{/end}

3.2.20
2.12.22 edit + last three lines (maybe throwaway?) Oosh, a bit severe. (could be a question)

"Might the dead be just a bit passive-aggressive?"
"Was he saying something?"

*Rolleyes*

Will the social commentary about the ignorance that abounds ever stop with me?
March 2, 2020 at 8:16pm
March 2, 2020 at 8:16pm
#976909
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/entertainment/2951086.stm

My Superficial Dream/Reality Analysis

Always suspected
This isn't real
A superficial existence
Played out in a snow globe
Inside Tommy Westphall's autistic machinations
Incepted by writers
Of a long dead
Television drama
And there's math to prove
Ninety-percent of us
Villains, friends
Are dead
When the dreaming boy
Ceases to exist
In our collective imagination
Dream collectors
Attached to his brain
Like vampires
Could live for centuries instead
Let's not be dead
Take a cue from Tommy
Employ imagination instead


Just throwing that up there and moving on...

 Invalid Item 
This item number is not valid.
#2211526 by Not Available.



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