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 |  Neurodivergent here. All the disgusting things I do or think on display. Wail away. |
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You don’t like it. I get it. Be truthful. Be honest with yourself. I had to be. And this is fair, make more rules to punish/negate rather than acknowledge/celebrate because fences, around obstacles surround trees climbing cliffs to secret clubs amid whispered oaths…with fingerpaint, koolaid and cellophane sammies in dad-built, small houses. Good with it and a 1,000,000 more reasons to yet whip out that sheathed numbered plastic after x years in negation. Good. I said good. Like Nostra-dumbass, written by my dim light. Some of you? No?? Nevermind. You have…enlightenment and couldn’t be more wrong to cast shadows. If you are put out with me, maybe, one day, I can offer a note from my doctor(s). This is semi-(im)pertinence. I make poor choices. Get regrets. But, as I age, the less I’ll care. Make…these words…you provoked…with a simple bullet…’if you don’t like it…’ The hole that passes through my soul you feel, adjust for, again and again. That’s why safe is not a good choice (for me), anymore. Risks with words, with a measure of aim, seek reward. Not here. No, never. I’ll apply myself, listen for their confusion…why…again…(not) him? Why do we do this? Are we good yet? How ‘bout now? Now, right? Yeah, you say we’re good… People like me can waste a lot of time cutting through the b.s. How can I know what you mean, if you won’t say what you mean? Observant, not sexist to say, it’s mostly women. Guys just trash talk, smear. Each is passive-aggressive in their own way. Sooo…. Short termers are feeding into what the long termers structure for short gain, while robbing our own privileges of promised freedoms... and you just believed them?!  let me think about that.  modern day counter culture turning back the clock with no hour hands, as society sent to an acidic bath of primordial ooze. workshopping that. |
| Melting Pot some things don't break down boiled, simmered on the back burner Contents removed burn over a camp fire Contents used highly sought after, broke down, seasoned spirit found its own flavor burn, baby, burn The superior stock bland, gets seasoned but more and more stock left out, cheap ingredients dried, ground, flash frozen given to the homeless what a hearty stew in a galvanized pot simmering within Nothing melts, it congeals separates what clashes, fished out what's left is about two percent of an Arian blend Flavorless but People line the block round the corner for each daily batch revealed Cultural stews melt breed new flavor tempt the middle set Drawn to originality unity of flavors not forced provided even for the elitist tongue. That melting pot -- rust bucket to slop the pigs. We need a chef to infuse a new batch, One who can carefully blend and sauté stock so rich the original recipe can be thrown away founded on ideals, corrupted by too many cooks in a hot kitchen. 3.21.23 Working on… A book is coming…I keep telling myself…as all kinds of arbitrary deadlines near & pass…like blaring traffic. So, there’s that. |
| Past petulance from uninformed ignorance grows indifference, calm before I reach the undertow. Can’t near yet like Buckley until I realize purpose, reason to walk toward a blurry, hazy horizon. Nothing full framed comes into focus. But you were in there. I Imagine, devious, devising ways to self-destruct before any… (who weren’t witnessing a barreling locomotive — no switcher… steering off track) comfort sought in rust deep, blue water I strum words with hands flattening waves, tremors — swirling that slows me above waist, awkward arms raised like a ballerina unable to pirouette, slowed by thick, brackish, gummy bay bottom heading to a mouth agape, widening to expanding horizon, dazzling its dulling gold, washing infinite gems purged, bleeding into black outside the cold-wooded, guarded lake this scaly monster calls safe home. Scales thicken, shed words in songs forming, forgotten, drowned by brisk gales at my back (when I want to perform to the empty, driftwood beach at shore, collected fires and other passions burning to a gray, dusty lump, hardened by showers preserving evidence if any want memory back), reflecting flames once mimicking a sky, before truer purpose was new heat, fire claimed all I lack, black, won’t give back its light, while waves lift above my neck. Is it even tide yet? Timing wrong, I could go down to find Jeff’s secret world like an already decayed fish, past floating. 3.24.23 3.27.23 cluelessly edited post LSD trippiness Never done—but time is linear, a fool seeking secret portal, for the aliens who could come if I wasn’t so pathetic. My hand is numb from tap, tap, tapping my codes like riddles designed t seek random serendipity answers discovery. A book is coming…I keep telling myself…as all kinds of arbitrary deadlines near & pass…like blaring traffic. So, there’s that. |
| Whimsy whimsy whimsical whimsy whimsy whim life seems so non-sensical yet it gives you a grin Flimsy flimsy flimsical Flimsy flimsy flim Word play undeniable Categorical sin brain frizzle frazzled fizzle fazzled thoughts bedazzled all unraveled glim glum flim flum making sense would make sensical fun what have I begun? In a state of distraction a slow refraction I thought I’d be smart just falling apart dum-dum-dumbing it down I watch you frown at least you can walk away from me now 3.27.23 Since Thursday…my 4-day, disjointed non-project This better not stir (awake) something inside of me - Jim Rash Don’t worry, it’s been awake… A book is coming…I keep telling myself…as all kinds of arbitrary deadlines near & pass…like blaring traffic. So, there’s that. |
| Past petulance from uninformed ignorance grows indifference, calm, before I reach the undertow. Can’t near yet like Buckley until I realize purpose, reason to walk toward blurry, hazy horizon. Nothing full framed comes into focus. But, you were in there, trapped in glass — I imagine devious, devising ways to self-destruct before any (who weren’t witnessing) could shackle with steel brakes. A barreling locomotive (none helm a switcher), I’m steering off track, seek comfort of rust in deep, blue water. Words I’ll strum, smooth with hands flattening waves, tremors, swirling that slow rises in me, above my waist, awkward arms raise like a ballerina unable to pirouette, dance like a monkey (for you), slowed by the thick, brackish, gummy bay bottom. Heading out a mouth agape, widening to an expanding horizon, dazzling, dull gold washes infinite gems purging, bleeding into black outside cold-wooded, guarded lake where this scaly monster finds safe home. Scales grow thicker, shed my words in songs forming, forgotten, drowned by brisk gales at my back when I want to perform to the empty, driftwood populated beach, at shore collecting fires, other passions burning — now a gray, dusty lump, hardened by showers In the wreckage preserved, if any want memory back, flames reflected, once mimicked a sky before truer purpose was a new heat. Wood depleted claimed all I lack, won’t, can’t give back, as waves cool, lift above my neck. Is it even tide yet? Timing wrong, I could go down to find Jeff’s secret world like an already decayed fish, past floating, since bloating, expansion that soon sends me to gruesome dark, underwater cave, to my troubadour. 3.24.23 Never done—but time is linear, a fool seeking secret portal, for the aliens who could come if I wasn’t so pathetic. My hand is numb from tap, tap, tapping my codes like riddles designed to seek random serendipity, answers in happenstance discovery. |
| This is what I wasted last night and this morning on ... Eleven † (War Just Begun, Season 1) Eleven is no strange thing. No stranger than this poetry form for Writer's Cramp. In her womb, a numb thing, I heard mother cry, Jailed, no stranger, feeling her labored pain. Tortured monster, underground amongst the rest, Eleven their refrain, no longer her Jane. Detained experiment, I'm put to the test. I found the One and the portal to escape. Mother's love will inspire my power best. But opening mothergate sealed others fate. With this ability, I'm compelled to try adopt a new life, fight evil with a frown -- a strange war to win against the upside down. reference: ▼ A book is coming…I keep telling myself…as all kinds of arbitrary deadlines near & pass…like blaring traffic. So, there’s that. |
| Deleted from my newsfeed, for obvy reasons… I just want to shout out my fans this month in conjunction with:
My love for you inspires me to reward you with something I’m coming up with on the spot, a shot at this unique merit badge: ![Merit Badge in Red Wheelbarrow Poetry
[Click For More Info]
Congratulations on your new merit badge! Thank you for supporting the Writing.Com community with your inspirations, participation and activities. We sincerely appreciate it! -SMs](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/group-Red_Wheelbarrow_Poetry-2231099_8.gif) Do one of two things: Post the above contest in a public WDC newsfeed post (link me: ripglaedr3 so I’ll see), or submit an entry in this month!s contest…to be entered in a drawing for the only merit badge I’ve ever created. Each fan who plugs or enters becomes a member of my group (if you aren’t already):
So here’s your chance: kenword adherennium jcosmos mylyndoll kmac390 rupali runningwolf04 buddhangela lejendpoet jcharrell vpbanjo perryride pickmarvilla rhymerreisen nfdarbe pernille gervic salil1982 blueyez rinsoxy deadzone dutchessbarbie mouse4roo proton69 fivesixer bikerider mickeyknight lostwordsmith sarama wordgeek everose dunkelhetstern lilliyloidd intuey krista fyndorian cgeorge roseille sharmelle northwood pwheeler bookmeister lilli_in_fl tblakely5 brontosaurus kittee knightly monet lighthouses.37 saharawqj rivermckenna warpedsanity cjandmuse webwitch elle purplesunday sky1 4provinces sparkyvacdr dllee ryannerd jessie.girl angelapurser lmiller7569 mageorge joanne4eva brenmaple mduci canuhelperin madzthecat elixar billywilcox tornadoday anglophile sha4852 doggy satet susanjwelker brennus Unfortunately, I can’t link all your usernames. If only we could do that with one link…  Fandom will come with random rewards in future. Stay tuned. But, definitely become a fan and join in the fun. I don’t know how to see who fanned the contest; I’d reward those, too. Let’s reciprocate, see if this will enrich our experiences at WDC. More contest ideas come daily. I’ve been resisting. Let’s co-exist and further our endeavors. |
| I love you drugs! We prefer to be called people without color or vaginas. Six seasons and a movie?  “Eventually you reached a point of diminishing return…” |
| Sat in my bath tub from 11 a.m. until about 3:30 p.m. I removed cold water and replaced with hot once. Sat in a drained tub for over an hour and didn't have to towel off. For my first meal/drink of the day: three scoops of vanilla ice cream mixed with RumChata and Black Velvet Whiskey. I did eat egg salad on three high fiber, low cab wraps. Also, a store bought Avocado salad with more eggs, carrots, and cheese. How Gross Am I? I pulled out the tube of Reese's cookie dough and a jar of Smucker's hot fudge and spooned the two together, eating about 6-8 ounces of the stuff. I sat shirtless at my kitchen table. Just digested, it's now 4:43 p.m. I'm thinking about more coffee. Had a cup this morning. Didn't finish the other. Might write. Might do a lot of things. I do know I did nothing productive today, outside of a bowel movement. Yay. But, we're out of Activia yogurt. I will not get anything more 'done' today if my wife doesn't join me in some of my many endeavors. Outside of that are things associated with my writing. It's whimsy today. What do you think? I did avoid commenting on a newsfeed post about postage stamps going up 3 cents. I thought of sharing a historical perspective from the first stamp issued in 1863 to the stamp being consistent with the price index to need for a new fleet of delivery vehicles that began arriving in 1987, two years after Ford introduced it's first mini-van. Or, that it will take a commitment of over 5 billion dollars to secure 120,000 new vehicles from six manufacturers based on designs that will rely on different energy sources and consistent with the regions where deployed (my tack), from Oshkosh Defense, formerly Oshkosh Truck and only an hour down 41 from Green Bay. I could have made my own silly and much ignored newsfeed posts today. So, this 'Gross' blog manifested itself out of a need to purge a neurodivergent brain into a stream, albeit wooded crick hidden below brush. It does gurgle with life. I do know it has a purpose, if solely for me. I don't want a mainstream blog with my idiotic ramblings. Have a fake image to uphold. I do want to track my free-associating, reptilian (lacking a better adjective - time constraints) brain and frame it somehow, for future generations or me to see what the hell is wrong with me. I took my meds, as if I was going to the gym. I just laid in that tub and watched episodes of BBT and other stuff with my suffering body begging I let it atrophy and repair from another week of torture - 85 thousand steps and 12 hours and 43 minutes of exercise, per FitBit. Coffee. Maybe, bourbon after that. If a tour of duty with spouse, then sober until she's asleep. Or, Reese's, Hot Fudge, ice cream, RumChata and Whiskey? Sounds like a physiological, science-y project I must Guinea for? Rat? Bunny? I'm an animal. So, that solves for...     How Gross Am I? |
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