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 |   All that remains: here in my afterlife as a 'mainstream' blogger, with what little I know. |
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The Idiotic Ideate?? Formerly: New Zenith To Hell…(all started with arc as writer here from the trials of Rising Stars to Preferred Author to WDC Quills Best Poetry Collection to the falling action I feel now that settles in a white case.) Got to hustle to preserve the best of me before fully fading on that virtual horizon glowing more brilliant with each passing day to permanent nuclear winter. if people don’t get it, I don’t need to explain it. We kill all that’s beautiful before we question it’s purpose. So many people find it easier to think in the black and the white. God forbid you get lost straying in the gray. "Whoever fights monsters should see to it…he does not become a monster.” I’ve been to the abyss and back. Not so bad. The loneliest happy person you'd ever meet, when not the saddest person who needs to be alone. In an ever-changing world, we need to handle topics at the ready. If you roll over and give in to the narrative without lending a voice of your own, you might as well hand over your civil liberties. We have voices that should connect to true conscience and spirit for honest and open discourse. Why feel so redacted? Unify on issues and put drama aside. Open minds require complete objectivity. If none need apply, question the unbendable sources for answer. If you knee-jerk react to every issue lurking out there that clutches your neck, you fall victim to your own ignorance born from a life of apathy (no doubt) in pathetic cries of injustice. Just writing what I feel without the narrative-altering mind f---ing with my head. [MY Chorus] In your house, I long to be Room by room, patiently I'll wait for you there, like a stone I'll wait for you there, alone "It amazed me how truth was often suffocated in minutes, but lies were given sufficient air to breathe indefinitely." "You are all better than you think you are, you are just designed not to believe it when you hear it from yourself." ![Merit Badge in Second Time Around Contest
[Click For More Info]
Congratulations on winning the Grand Overall Prize in [Link To Item #2164876] with your beautiful poem, [Link to Book Entry #933358]. This poem really moved me. Great writing!
Rachel *^*Heartv*^*](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/group-Second_Time_Around_Contest-2164963_14.gif)    "...lasting art is never anything more than a mathematical expression of the relations that exist between the internal and the external, the self [le moi] and the world." -Jean Metzinger I'm in love with carefully chosen words, arranged just so, audible, edible, to inhale. I attempt to post new poems and epiphanies daily with some links to what inspires. I am legally blind with a rare, genetic form of glaucoma. I'm described as "end stage" after two successful surgeries, still subject to further vision loss. Cataracts complicating matters. Writing Can get strenuous but seldom deters what yearns to emerge, despite a documented history of depression and recently diagnosed ADHD and undefinable social disorders and/or PTSD. My recent poetry:
Sometimes epiphanies about my insights on writing and life and what goes on... Making sense of life is maddening. Why do I need to know, when truth may not actually exist? Learning to accept would be a better pursuit? Flailing about in my own mediocrity, hoping to bust out. I am visible. You can put a face with a name. I would like to see other writers, too. Fiction is what you write, not who you are. Reinventing myself. I couldn't continue on the path I was on and needed a fresh start. This time around I want to put the focus on writing and the world outside of this community as it affects my life. I realize now that I have been baring my chest a bit more, as when young. fake me much more boring and unliberated than the real me. A world arriving as silent as that blossom in your garden that I told you about... |
| There’s no perfect metaphor for what I attempt without master to share: Life could be like revolving doors and hopping into another dimension or like a stationary merry-go-round. You can make it go or just sit on it and dream on sun-heated metal soiled from grubby feet or cleansed by rain. But know, if you ride and don't puke, you've already won. If you stand up and hold on as someone spins it faster, you can experience the rush. Having been sucked in by it's centrifugal force, you can find ground again after it slows, feel disoriented but still know you're fine. And you realize, the world moves beneath as you struggle to remain standing. Those experiences, solitary, move through you a lifetime, replayed infinitely as each opening appears and passes as we must chose to step into our portals, or eventually step away, as if mother is calling us home for supper. I have only one question: what do you talk about over that meal...that you played or got hurt? I may have suffered too many concussions…or plainly…blows to the head. We laugh…though, it’s serious. There's always going to be the bad experience to help us appreciate the good. If we remove all that is bad, how would we know how good? Or, just take every experience for granted? You must be pricked and appreciate that experience, too. How else will you time travel at the end of life? Not very good without conflict-resolution. 10.28.21 from the maddening after the awakening and ing and ing and ing forever on. |
| To tempt them to near, to pry, we lie. We embellish the truth to soothe our qualms about worth, or be alone. To tell the truth is a lie to our worth, because no one will know how to near, to love, one so alone. 10.26.21 Idiomatic or idiotic? Either way, I'm calling it a poem. Remember when we threw neurotic around so freely to reveal ourselves, or disguise? |
| Everyone's cheating. Everyone's lying. Those who are the worst at it get caught, become sacrificial lambs. They were just trying to keep up, fit in. We lie to ourselves, mess with our own heads, wonder what is wrong with us because we don't fit in with a bunch of liars and cheats. The new standard is to be the best and phoniest. We forget our values overall, while keeping some sentimental ethos connected to our hearts near and dear, fighting falsely for their survival while, navigating this world eroding into negativity and division, because no great unifier has come along to quell what agitates all. We all chatter like someone is listening, like someone will do more than like a post. But, if a movement swells from our words, would we know what next? We're stuck as a nation/world, ensnared in a web of lies, beginning with media in all forms. And, too dim-witted to see actual truths, too cozy, readied for our dirt naps. I have witnessed the ignorance of the cancel culture young. Gah. Walls for old people to echo thoughts off. “funerals are always occasions for pious lying.” - I.F. Stone I might add more. Okay, I will. This: Trump is an ass and the biggest liar in the room, by design. He realizes the depth of the ignorance that surrounds and wants to be polarizing by telling it like it is. He knows we all think some of these things, but have the good sense to not speak what we might think evidentiary. That doesn't make a good unifier, but someone like my dad who would get in your face and tell you what he thinks of you without a moment's hesitation, and in that moment, rents space in your head. You might say divider, but people are forming to the left and the right because of him and ready to fight for what they feel. But, we might be the hapless fools like he claims Gen. Colin Powell was, that we blindly believe what we are told and expose it to others as truth, until unverified. I'm awash in a sea of this when I discover Stone's quote and have to consider the journalistic roots of a young man who wanted to investigate and reveal hidden truth in a pack of lies, but tired of the game heavily stacked against a lone individual (me). I was ushered out of the media game because it is thankless, unrewarding and not unlike everything else I chase hoping for a chance to prove and reprove myself. But to whom? No one is watching and I am yet just another fool following manipulated carrots. I'll let these thoughts marinate semi-publicly, as I consider their weight, an ounce or less, because few to none truly pry to get inside and see what goes on, unless a threat somehow, unwittingly, to some machine cramming nonsense down the throats of all who would sing for a hollow supper. Yeah, marinate. 10.20.21 |
| I'm handed, 'life isn't supposed to be easy' late in life. When my peers and parents glared at me if I got stuff wrong lifelong? I tried too hard when I could have just coasted and smiled all the while. But, I grimaced as if I my nose was one inch from that grindstone, and for no good reason? Sure, pressure cedes a diamond. Are my diamonds really worth the effort? God deals the cards. I just play them. If I try to hide an ace up my sleeve, I cheat myself. But, we're taught that winners are what we want to be. We forget about being our best, leaving everything on the field when we play. It doesn't mean we lost at the end. It means we gave it our best, which is suppose to cede some kind of satisfaction. Try to find the proper setting for that. Many, from their limited purview, try to shorten up the scope of things. It's broader than any of us can imagine. We can only learn so much in our lifetime and what good does it really do us in the end? We're given lemons, there's a stand you can open in front of your house, if you're a cute five-year-old kid. So, yeah. It doesn't all equate. That's my point. Why try so hard to impress others. Their the ones in the limited purview. And, while you're looking around and I'm hanging around, you might catch a glimpse. But, we're too far apart to really come together and enjoy this thing called life, or writing. So, we live it alone in these tiny little apartments in our minds, web-related realities. Doesn't make any sense? Irony. Now make lemonade before life ends. Otherwise, you won't have anything to savor after all the suffering. 10.1+9.21 |
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In the Falkland Islands, internet is very limited and very expensive. The place I'm currently staying only lets me use it in the middle of the night, so when I have to get up at 3 am to check my texts (no cell service to the US here unless I'm on the internet) or WdC, I don't do nearly as much as I used to. 
I currently have 2 very long emails I still need to get to from several days ago. Anyway, I miss everyone, but I also miss sleep, so there's that. 
Have you spoken to the doctor about your vision problems lately? I know there are special glasses for it because I have to wear them to read much ever since the brain injury. It's part of why I now only listen to audiobooks instead of reading regular books. It took 8 years for anyone to diagnose it because I have a brain injury and while one might think it would be obvious to me that I see double, it wasn't. Partly, my brain does a fair job of compensating. But also, partly, you use your brain to realize and understand that the 2 images you constantly see are double vision and something you should mention to your eye doctor. Since my brain was damaged, even basic things like that can escape me. 
I never once thought to mention it, even with annual eye exams in the Army and an exam every 2 years at the VA. Though, in my defense, since it happens in something like 41% of people with a brain injury, it should have been discovered by an eye doctor much sooner. 
I know doing that activity is a CRAP TON of work. But you made a difference in lives, not just his, but for all the people he's reviewed since. 
Well done! 
