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Rated: GC · Book · Comedy · #2288911
Neurodivergent here. All the disgusting things I do or think on display. Wail way.
Like Nostra-dumbass, written by his dim light. Some of you? No?? Nevermind.

If you are put out with me, maybe, one day, I can get a note from my doctor.

I make poor choices. I have regrets. But, the older I get, the more I don't care.

That’s why safe is not a good choice. Risks with words, with a measure of aim, seek reward. Not here. No, never. I’m odd enough as it is.

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 don’t mean what you say?

Observant, not sexist to say, it’s mostly women. Guys just trash talk, smear. Each is passive-aggressive in their own way.


Short termers are feeding into what the long termers structure for short gain, while robbing our own privileges of promised freedoms...
and your just believed them?! *Laugh* let me think about that. *Cry*
modern day counter culture turning back the clock with no hour hands sent to an acidic bath of primordial ooze. workshopping that.
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May 28, 2023 at 12:40am
May 28, 2023 at 12:40am
What if truth was a coin and you only had to pick one side?
Do you know your heads from your tales?

let’s play around
with the truth

you don’t know me

         you know
                             about me


                                                 only what you want to learn

                                                           BUT, ignore

                                                                     what doesn’t fit
                                                                               in your frame

now I’m over here
who moved me
into the corner?

how do I get
I’ll let you inspect
what is circumspect

you might not like
the answers
I call truth

not part of your narrative
sits on my side of the table

is that gum under here?


big, Big, BIG conspiracy theorist
for chasing after truth
head-bagged, hauled out
of its home
in the middle of the night

the children always wondered
if dad had run out on them,
a betrayer, or
was mom the enemy?

and other psycho babble

let’s discredit ourself
by being self-deprecating
because we know what lies therein
from the absence of truth

puzzles are more easily
see the picture on the box

constructing word puzzles in the middle of the night

May 14, 2023 at 11:46am
May 14, 2023 at 11:46am
Kidney Shots

Bullies need kidney shots
Be ready to run

But I know
This is not done

I hide
Bide my time
Aware of friendly

Aware where it’s safe
Out in the open

Who fights dirty?
Amid new friends
Not at my back
When I see my tormentor

I was brought to you
Unholy. No mercy

Once bled
Never again

Bullies need groin kicks
You get one shot
Don’t hover that heap
Friends aren’t far away

Since the first schoolyard day
Until the last sunset
Aware I’m alone
Aware what body blows do

Having experienced
Since the first bully

Is it Me?
Let’s see, shall we?


Plucksome mood, gravitating higher. With or without, I’m with my tormentor always, thankful for being driven to aimless heights, pointless outcomes, to get through life with purpose like a Truth vigilante. Not meaning to expose the bullies but my right to co-exist…fairly. It’s your failure when the world dehumanizes to give bullies justification for actions and reactions. It’s about: plausible deniability.

Me: it’s all about plausible deniability, am I right?
Bully: what’s that?
Me: exactly.

Does that make me smug? So be it. Not my first rodeo, not the first narrative I couldn’t control.
May 14, 2023 at 11:31am
May 14, 2023 at 11:31am
Having Swooped

I fly into your fan
fly into your fan
into your fan
I fly
toward your fan.

I fly toward you
a swoon, swoop
after I flew
still inhale

swoop, swoon
in a fragrant redness
tender tulips
I arrived

by flying to your fan
to your fan
into the window fan
swoop from limb
to feeder

swoop, swoon
in red clumps
hit the glass
fell, survive

you ask
why won’t I die?

I fly…


Coda: a rehash with perspective

you ask for more
I comply
Not dead, yet…?
Who’s the fool?
99 times, me?

Math is not subjective
does not yield to external factors
unless outcomes are fixed
like clear glass

subjectively hides
on your side


further yet:
you can point to a still breathing bird amid returning flowers in red mulch and question.
it’s a projection of ignorance, delusion and undeniable result
when a plucky bird regroups once it lifts to that limb on the tree outside your home.
Cue a thousand of us: Hitchcock film.

May 11, 2023 at 8:33pm
May 11, 2023 at 8:33pm
Poems, 40 words ore less for:
Express yourself Within Forty Words   (E)
Express your thoughts about the given subject within forty words.
#2287902 by Dr Rupali Goswami

21/30 prompts

Don't Choke (any) 5.1.23
Slurpers Buffet (any) 5.2.23
Compromised (any) 5.3.23
words and bones (cry) 5.4.23
truth cannot equate to beauty (true} 5.5.23
We Are False (false) 5.6.23
After The Illumination (accept) 5.7.23
Copper Strong (strong) 5.8.23
The Melting Bird (deep) 5.9.23
Embraced (embraced) 5.10.23
Harvested (The Night) 5.11.23
black breath (afresh) 5.12.23
the awkward aim (lovely) 5.13.23
wormhole this (mighty) 5.14.23
beautiful boomerang (beautiful) 5.15.23
yo-yo for love (grateful) 5.16.23
lazy head (Mother) 5.17.23
daisy heads (Father) 5.18.23
xeroxed image of me (twin) 5.19.23
brave buds (brave) 5.20.23
What Worth? (good) 5.21.23
May 9, 2023 at 10:52pm
May 9, 2023 at 10:52pm
Once bitten,
thirty-two times chewed.

Easily digestible.

No time.
I’ll drink my lunch.

Now I’m not shy,
but bit.

I can easily quit,

view their spectacle
at the trough.

30 words, free verse

I made it up. So what?
May 7, 2023 at 12:01am
May 7, 2023 at 12:01am
Another poem not fully realized…lifecabd stuff, you know?

In the past 15 seconds
my brain has deceived me,
it leads me, denies me
full access to its process that I
can’t fully retrace footprints of a stained brain
where I store thoughts, like memories
in a short frame,
few store in that microprocessor,
the visual instability, continuously bombarded
in a stable realm, home,
but to the excruciating excitement of the long ride,
to park, walk from lots to airport, tickets, luggage, scan and scan and scan and wand —
jog terminals, scan, plane, cram, overhead and cram,
and squirm and cram and plop.
smells and cries and starvation before the steel cart cuts a swath,
crush hard biscuits’ flavor crammed in the jutted crevices,
suck and suck, sip and savor a soda nursed,
juggle waste and waste time, finally collected

from ascent, distorted mechanical dialogue,
to descent, clutch, hold, hang on, then
wiggle and wobble, tow and toddle and
un-tuna-can, pained legs abide, to the spun luggage,
head spins the spun carousel, until identified,
snatch and grab and haul a lot in a human jam,
to rental lot, vehicle, choose, but route map
to destined vacay rental, turn key, blow hair back,

where brain and me truly get lost,

navigate highway, dull scenery, 15 times infinity in a spin,
when red rock towers, cactus flowers, cicadas hum,
windows down in small town and stop
at a dry river bed, lug and roll behind the cottage.
Luggage contents in strategic locations
and place my lot by the sink, night stand.
we eat, drink wine, I feign relax and to bed strange,
mattress a strange world in stranger fabric not cotton.

How many divisions of 15 endured,
15 more, 15 more, 15 more. Count goes night long.
I hold on. String it together, retrace steps.
But, will I remember where I am, who I am,
the warm woman lying next to me by morn.

15 seconds is a lot from here to there. Despair.
I set a foot forward, toward a nook, turn back.
Look at her form, wonder if I can ask. What got me here?
My motivation? How divest an anxious soul
on sweet vacation. And not spoil this for her,
mated travel companion, so near a hopeful canyon.
The chasm inside a space just like synapses in a slow brain,
breaking speed records without trace. Snapshots.
Pose and point and look back on it. 15 seconds,
one year later, I frown at the sight of it. Every moment
dust brain speed to that red vortex and never reappeared.



A book is coming…I keep telling myself…as all kinds of arbitrary deadlines near & pass…like blaring traffic. So, there’s that.
May 6, 2023 at 11:58pm
May 6, 2023 at 11:58pm
Theorems of a mind in deficit

Dear Professor,

a beautiful thing
asymmetry accepted, but rivaled
and unequal to
your grandeur of utopian visions fed

Yet bits of encrypted data that leaks these lips, dull
replies for your patented affirmations of ‘perfect’

what ideals i ideate i create
on the fly
not from my ass but brain simmering
about to boil messier than any pot
atop a staining stove

bake this in your conventional oven
I’ll wait
did I get the recipe right? Chef?
Dinner for one, again

I know
it wasn’t cake I tried to make
A tender flake
with love created I’ll savor

Your Professor


Edit later?
What the…??
April 26, 2023 at 12:48am
April 26, 2023 at 12:48am
Holding It In…for you, who sleeps at night

I don’t read aloud some of my favorite poetry writes —
thick text best left to the fantastical theatre of my mind.
please don’t approach with platitudes for sifting through
that jumble of collected words, strung up, glowing array —
window display but exhumed demons of my mind exercised,
forced to my devices to purge these life lessons.
my ramblings might give the faux angelic appearance
of reformed psychopath who raged, buckled under —
but not a danger in pressurized chamber ceding these diamonds.
lay down pawns for kings positioned to prompt,
hoping I’d sacrifice my queen rather than bleed
an army of in Trojan, troubled soul.

So, don’t expect a shove in the shoulder, smile and shout ‘get outta here’,
humbly acquiesce when you acknowledge. I’m too busy punching myself
in the damned heart with a frown-brain rewired, as I fight internally eternally.
Not your fight. Right. Just thought you’d care to know, since you only notice
the sweetest gifts and concessions of a bleeding heart, holding it in.
Smile. Move on to the next, certain they’ll also appreciate glowing remarks.


No small task for an emotional person to use objectivity, logic and override a torment that ravages my body, holding it all in

What’s unique about poems like this is jotted thoughts written one at a time from the mind’s simmering process that produces each floating revelation. Raw and incomplete and still or forever informing. Now edited and shared, here.

A week from now I’ll forget the impulse that produces this…take more time…depending how deep we go to get that memorable scar. Or, remember those cuts open to receive more happy words in salted wounds.

A book is coming…I keep telling myself…as all kinds of arbitrary deadlines near & pass…like blaring traffic. So, there’s that.
April 16, 2023 at 12:46pm
April 16, 2023 at 12:46pm
My mom was apparently famous for saying, "I'm for everyone."
I'm infamous for inferring I'm not for everyone.
In fact, very few can endure (cliche) insufferable (end cliche) me.

Where's all of this headed?

Mom had a cat named "Nigger Bob" when she was growing up as a kid in South Dakota.
She didn't see anything wrong with that when I called her a racist.
We were both ignorant.
Now, I'm some kind of something.
She was better than me because she knew how to behave, except
not how to raise a 'different' kid she sometimes called a 'dumb bunny'.

I know I'm not dumb. Somethings take more time. Some things
need be handled with 'kid gloves'. Sometimes, parents
don't have the tools to raise a 'special child'.

But there is time, as one ages,
to set things right. If given a chance
to not let truth spoil in their hands
when no one else will realize what they've discovered.

Boxed by people's perceptions, races, genders,
disabilities and sexual proclivities aside, it's hard
why people can act so progressive and still be regressive
when they decide to shun one another.

I heard my mom was for everyone after she was gone.
I would have said, no, she wasn't. She was
and wasn't for me and was ignorant, as was I.
But, I keep searching for truth and answers, rebuffed
when I go poking in 'the wrong places' because
inhumanity, dehumanization, hatred and ignorance
intermingle, coexist more than branded people
who lack distinguishing marks. How will you know
how to compartmentalize a world around you, encroaching
begging your alms of love. Not realizing, you can
sit down, enjoy your tea or coffee in the houses
of communion and step off whatever podium soap box
that collects those stubborn toes toeing.

I am just a boy with a mom who was average
and unique, to me. And I don't have to explain myself,
my disabilities, so I can find elbow space in the houses
where I've sought love. It's over. I can't open
a heart any wider to let others in who only want to savage
from the inside, a circuitry that has been messed
since it was created in her womb of words, her ignorant
acts of love toward others, world, me that I reflect
or reject based on some impulses of my own to act
or now, not react, to the manipulators and ignorance
that surrounds in a sea of soft, soft heads.

We aren't progressing as humanity, but regressing
to our safe spaces with machine calculators figuring us out.

I could go on. No one is listening. This was not planned.
Neither will the next collection of words tapped
from fingers to spacing thumbs. We all have senses and
sensibilities rooted in our past, brought to the present
in some bath still simmering, aging, now regressing.

It's hard to find faith in communion of thought
with so much disparity among the disparaging to those
reserving their thoughts, until the right moment, they think,
to strike and cancel one another until one remains?

I fight for peace of thought while others purchase
poison or guns to demonstrate their right to terminate.


last rambling thought of the hour, day, week, month, year, life?

edit...later? checks, mouth. is it all counterfeit? should I be locked up?
I hear a resounding YES in my head. i might be close, and not.
April 16, 2023 at 12:25pm
April 16, 2023 at 12:25pm
The brain has an off switch

You might only get one chance to use it
If not used correctly
you might try again
to shut it down

I'm neither Otto the book or movie
but I relate

Maybe, you should read something
into this?


A book is coming…I keep telling myself…as all kinds of arbitrary deadlines near & pass…like blaring traffic. So, there’s that.

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