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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/books/item_id/1300042-SuperNova-Afterglow-End-Of-Days/month/6-1-2019
Rated: 18+ · Book · Writing · #1300042
All that remains: here in my afterlife as a 'mainstream' blogger, with what little I know.
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*^*

                   A signature image for use by anyone nominated for a Quill in 2018                    

"...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:

BOOK
Life’s Little Misdirections 🥀🦋  (18+)
10k views, 2x BestPoetryCollection. A nothing from nowhere cast words to a world wide wind
#1149750 by He’s Brian K Compton


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...
June 30, 2019 at 8:06pm
June 30, 2019 at 8:06pm
#961828


When I Arrived
(Note: I'm still working on this)

Remember that summer
He took us to the Tastee Freez
After helping mow a field
He Sprang for 10 cent cones
You had your freckles
I was just past orange
Blond hair a melted heap
Beneath a cap, grass
Specked, stained by messy
Errant sun screen applied
Before she would let us go

I remember the day at camp
Arriving, big wiffle bat in hand
(the kind that couldn't miss
A pitched ball). Temptation sated
As I flung it at his fat behind
Maybe, he was frustrated
Just embarking
Maybe, I was acting out
Before he rumbled, chased
Down, assail like
No toy could
A tender backside

I wasn't in pain as I cried
         Learning to hold in anxiety
Especially the evening
He pinned my neck
In that dinner chair to floor
Vicious words spat
After I realized openly
Why
I had five extra newspapers
Left over from my route
I wouldn't finish my meal
Reheated after
He drove me to deliverance
Of each tardy daily

I suspected you were amused
Each time I failed him
But I was in his way until
The day he lynched you
At the back door
After midnight with his
Gripping hands
Accusations of drug use
Questions about your intent
When she intervened
(Slapped to the floor
Like a dog)
[With free mitt] before
I arrived
Locked burly arms behind
thick torso, shoved
Across our house to couch
Sat upon him
hammering his face
Two stone fists
Just glancing off
That thick, dull skull
Mouth drawn
Like a wide-eyed fish
Punished like a child
As I shouted contempt

Why couldn't I hurt him
Hit him harder
Turn him to dust?
Because
I still loved him.
I went to bed knowing
You and she were safe
I still relive torture
Restrain hard
Not to hurt another

But, I guess that depends
Since I have my vocabulary


You might not see me as a child of abuse.
Nowhere to stand in your house
With my drama.
I'll wait outside
No matter the weather
Long for the proper invitation

Somewhere the likes of me
Is welcome

Did I mention my baggage?


© 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.

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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/books/item_id/1300042-SuperNova-Afterglow-End-Of-Days/month/6-1-2019