*Magnify*
◄     April     ►
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
30
Archive RSS
SPONSORED LINKS
BY ONLINE AUTHORS
Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/profile/blog/ripglaedr3/month/4-1-2024
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
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 "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 ▼
April 28, 2024 at 1:30pm
April 28, 2024 at 1:30pm
#1070018
My little brother could not
wipe away my love of life
despite reporting my experimentations
that earned timeouts, punitive arrangements,
to spare his own bottom from the stick
with a fingers’ misdirects.

Anger I ingested, held
into manhood, when realization
I should be worried about him —
after drug use, failed marriages,
abandoned and shunned by his
woman daughter, having blown
his share of a family fortune.

I’m secure in my holdings.
Head up, even in life defeat, because
there is one worse off, needs, but
won’t reach out to me, Mr. Armless —
cut off after that great disease
called childhood. My heart
with widening chambers

ready to hold him within, yet
ache from emptiness.


4.28.24
22 lines, free verse

Created here/now in minutes…from informed experience not so dissimilar from PTSD of yore.
If anyone ever accepts me unconditionally as human, I’ll hold them as dear life.

Brother, not my friend, hated me, jealous, yet as the youngest, most freckled, adored.
I too, don’t have a relationship with his only offspring, a lovely young woman.

How flawed this human experience navigated?

P.S., if I spend two hours in one sitting here; that’s on you.
April 19, 2024 at 2:11pm
April 19, 2024 at 2:11pm
#1069195
I’ve been writing and squirreling it away because I don’t have time to share lately.

But, I will share a text sent to my spouse this morning…a snippet of something my unending mind could more fully speak into existence, time permitting, if I actually knew eyes between ears would give consideration to the blooming sea of an ordinary brain that wants/strives to be (accepted as) beautiful (amidst all the waste called ugliness — my own):

Was creating observational humor the other day in the carwash when the lyrics “same as it ever was” splashed and assaulted my brain. I decided now to look at song meetings for The Talking Heads “Once In A Lifetime.”

https://songmeanings.com/songs/view/43180/

The commenter with 22 likes stated it best (to me) with another remarking beneath about something that always nags me…”It (song) kind of talks about how if a the wheels of a brain stop spinning(,) it is technically dead…if we just accept everything for what it is, and don't question things or stop to think for a second, we're not really living.”

And what am I always doing but questioning life, obsessed with thought I routinely express if not verbally, in writing? Writing gives perspective. Writing is stuff on a greaseboard wall that no one visits. (Many new thoughts relate to this). So, to avoid the existential abyss, I need to ask myself what is this thing called writing and why am I doing it? What are these observations I am having and why do I think anybody would respond to it?

More importantly, David Byrne’s use of symbolism with water. The top commenter overlooked the lyrics poetic quality. Water is a symbol for life, washes things away, gives us life and holds it all together. And it’s a mystery beneath the surface, further hiding us from truth we all seek.

At its essence, the song is about baptism (once we accept this is our life), same as it ever was. And, what you do with it will only mean something to oneself. For me, it’s been a perpetual sense of wonder.

Now, ‘into the blue again’.


4.19.23

Who cares where it begins and ends, jump in the stream anyway. Don’t just watch it go by. If someone is there to baptize you, make sure it’s your faith and not theirs that you commit to before taking that leap. Once immersed, you may struggle for breath and your own life as they hold you under. It’s your commitment, your blessing, your life (and how you live it) that gives satisfaction only to you, and none other.

No matter how you live it, they will either accept or ignore you, but ultimately, could bend and warp your strength and beauty, when manipulators steal a little something from your soul-essence. Claim it back. Choose nirvana with your tequila. Another sunrise coming. Don’t linger in the dark past day break.

‘Tequila…sunrise’ — yeah, thought it. Are the words ever really that far from one another in any vernacular?

Can you guess what I’m thinking now?

It makes me so sad ‘we live’ so ‘far apart’ and are virtually (double entendre) on the same page of illumination (doubling down).

Sadder…the division widening.

I echo the preceding text’s final thought, because all I ever hear is my own voice, even inside this four-wall box of a life.
April 2, 2024 at 12:59pm
April 2, 2024 at 12:59pm
#1067407
White Winged (Revised)
from the pandemic

I hope you know darling
I can't be the wild garden butterfly
haphazardly flapping white wings
before your aromatic hyacinth,
lily of the valley bell sprays,
amid spring tulips daring symmetry
and other hand-me-down heirlooms
longing my tender hands weed, divide,
surround your beautiful, wide eyes
envisioning eternal symphony, nearing
like infinity, in an instant taken
by storm, gnawing rodents and bespecked
insects with voracious appetites
— like mine — who needs your love, too.

I'll be white-winged wherever you are,
flowing but separating from our past
to move beyond, fading forgotten into
the blue, clouded vault of mystery --
beyond the dust of towering pine
— swaying, judging -- and below the ground
with soil ever-loving, always nurturing
our shared desire of blooms sprouting,
graceful garden butterflies showing
— arrive — to replace my ego.


"white winged (MV)" 

Coda
The most beautiful melody at memorial
you can't hear play
in this empty row eternally alone.
You clutch my hand
as if knowing my suffering heals your own.
in bed each night in earth silence
you tenderly clutch my soul's remains.

My eyes only for the spinning ceiling fan
whooshing away sounds repeating tiresome,
eroding guilt I cannot fully love
until I know you celebrate me again.

I've come to realize I broke the vision
you had for me, of a silent knight long ago,
when the white steed suddenly died at your distressed feet...
when you realized I became the helpless one,
and you would have to shoulder me from then
and beyond every tomorrow until I'm ash
scattered on breezes sending me hopeful
in that morning bed with delightful things
I never had eyes to appreciate, like your longing
before my soul's return to you, darling. *Butterfly2W*



Can’t fully justify
But then, who with intricate webbing ill-devised
can free from our own destiny trap.

Are you getting any of this? — creator of Community, Dan Harmon, supposedly in his sleep
Deep
April 2, 2024 at 12:26pm
April 2, 2024 at 12:26pm
#1067404
Revisit

Rewire (Rewiring)

Feed me amphetamine
messy head needs a rewire

boy, I’m tired
pretty please prescribe
I’m not a seeker

life is bleaker
without the bright sunshine
supplied and dosed ten milligrams at a time

but quit by five
if I want to sleep tonight

coffee helps
tea's better I'm told
         for mindful patience
         good vibes
wouldn’t that be nice

man, I was so sad
when people didn’t get me
still don’t

it’s gonna take a while
to rewire me

write on that pad: amphetamine


21 lines

"Rewired (still rewiring. big job) (MV)" 


© 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.

Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/profile/blog/ripglaedr3/month/4-1-2024