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Creative fun in
the palm of your hand.
Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/1300042
by BKC
Rated: ASR · Book · Personal · #1300042
Full of sound and fury. Signifying nothing.
Formerly "Closer To The Truth"

Sometimes epiphanies about my insights on writing and life and what goes on...

Trying make 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 mediocrity, hoping to bust out.

Follow me on Twitter:
https://mobile.twitter.com/glaedrfly
ASIN: B006PUZY78
Such Longing: Poetry Of Nature Love
Product Type: eBooks
Amazon's Price: Price N/A


You can put a face with a name. Fiction is what you write, not who you are.

I also encourage you to read my notebook, biography and more.

THANK YOU alfred booth, wanbli ska for the ribbon and continuous support!




My blogging days at Writing.Com began here [FOR MEMBERS] >>>
 
BOOK
My Journal  (13+)
This is my pulpit. I'm no preacher, just long to be heard like the rest of us.
#1149750 by BKC

http://www.writing.com/main/books/item_id/1149750-My-Journal

Previous ... -1- 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 ... Next
June 23, 2017 at 11:19am
June 23, 2017 at 11:19am
#913929
Rose petals,
descending tear drops;
clot brittle weeds,
strafe gentle on currents.
Lift lost love
to the sky.
See me now from heaven?

Bald buds; watchful,
buoyed on pricked arms,
warm hearts,
throb with joy
envision such glee,
bittersweet castoffs.
For some greater purpose?

Butterflies fibrillate,
intoxify a solemn,
near barren bush --
sunshine glitter
searching succulent
dew drops
that I might live forever?

Wait a little while longer.
If my breath should leave me,
I want to be standing here
in your presence.

June 21, 2017 at 10:56am
June 21, 2017 at 10:56am
#913802
Writing today nostalgically. Only going to share one paragraph…

"I can sit on my front stoop and listen to them chop weeds up the block. I can still hear children playing in the street, even though it's fainter then the joy of youth. Summer days come every year and leave disappointment with the death that is fall. We know winter is coming and we have to prepare, but we don't want to. Always, Spring is our hindsight, have Summer in our hearts. Fall is bittersweet. But, Winter, that's the one season I could do without."

June 19, 2017 at 6:23pm
June 19, 2017 at 6:23pm
#913670
An utopian innocence;
ever sparkling,
fading with each grasp,
brilliant
like diamond hearts,
uncrackable --

Just an illusion.
Bleed cliche color,
ordinary,
on a dull, blistered path
beneath
singed feet,
chapped by experience.
Bare, once nimble gems,
crumble into sogged earth --

rear another fool.
Hide the sun.
Die,
no one will remember.
Tick,
one more sand in time.


aka Not Immortal
aka Brian's Piteous Song

June 14, 2017 at 9:45am
June 14, 2017 at 9:45am
#913254


60s TV tribute



June 11, 2017 at 1:49am
June 11, 2017 at 1:49am
#912948


Unlove...
my tender baggage
taken;
that piece of your heart,
torn from my clutch...
not yours to give
mine;
proof you once cared,
in my hands now...
burgundy waste
pulseless.
June 9, 2017 at 11:28am
June 9, 2017 at 11:28am
#912833
June 3, 2017 at 1:37pm
June 3, 2017 at 1:37pm
#912316
You can't say things better than this:

"His heart beat faster and faster as Daisy’s white face came up to his own. He knew that when he kissed this girl, and forever wed his unutterable visions to her perishable breath, his mind would never romp again like the mind of God. So he waited, listening for a moment longer to the tuning-fork that had been struck upon a star. Then he kissed her. At his lips’ touch she blossomed for him like a flower and the incarnation was complete."

-F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby

Poetry and fiction are intertwined.
June 2, 2017 at 9:29am
June 2, 2017 at 9:29am
#912234
I look at the bottom of a drained mug,
ask it to fill me again.
Idle spoon,
nothing to stir.
Without a word
we stare out the window:
same landscape,
same memories.

Oil-topped table
props up weary limbs
that toil at nothing.
A brain still searching for something
inside the unforgiving vessel
looks again.
Still mocking...
or myself?

Dusty floor smooths beneath
two stiff feet.
Veins pang unharmonious;
clot pedestals
will not send me
to the life-giving machine.
Had enough.
A silent, gray frown.

At least I'm served by the sun
until it goes down.



There's a world at my doorstep. Make it go away. It's late.
May 26, 2017 at 12:19am
May 26, 2017 at 12:19am
#911757




Knowledge detained

Hypertextualized roads
Thickening woods
Shadowed Journeys
Fantasy without conclusion
Yet
Dead ends
Backtracks
Lost thoughts
Lost desire
Brings down the lights
Until the next illumination
Delusion
Soaring above reality
Somewhere in cerebrum
Into a forbidden
Forgotten history
That seldom exists
Fuzzy, fizzing
Idling thoughts
Mundane truths
We're not meant to know
We're not meant to be

I hover here
Hoping you'll return
Yellow words burst
A monochromatic sea
Slender arrows
Aim for you
Renewed
Searching
A tender red heart
Still beating
For me.
For me?



It means everything and it means nothing, because of timing
May 10, 2017 at 6:16am
May 10, 2017 at 6:16am
#910824
Your opus
fleeting
Help me savor
the feeling
ecstasy
brevity
Need to feel
a little longer
Your stark voice
echoes in my mind
unable to repeat
words with melodies
unlearned
inexperienced
She was supposed to be
the one
Just a dream, gone
fleeting
like a song
meaning
March 24, 2017 at 9:43am
March 24, 2017 at 9:43am
#907490
I will still exist in Twitterverse long after my days on other social media platforms...

https://mobile.twitter.com/glaedrfly

I don't interact well in most worlds, except the real one...where I still have very few followers and fewer fans.
March 24, 2017 at 8:19am
March 24, 2017 at 8:19am
#907480
The pressure is off our math genius who tested in the 95th percentile for ACT Math. He takes his AP Stats test today, knowing he won't have to return to it after spring break term. Grades kept slipping since being in honors math freshman year. Struggles with teachers who don't speak his language, too proud to ask for help and one parent who couldn't figure out how to help him absorb the material we're just some of the obstacles to succeeding. He was getting so far behind, he just needed to shut it down rather than face that uphill climb to catching up and get that passing grade.

We met with his guidance counselor yesterday and got him on a new math path that will keep him out of AP courses (yet still honors) and work him into his best ACT-tested subject...English! AP English next fall and dad is fired up to work with hm...if he'll let me. That's where we struggle: his ego. He's so smart, stuff comes to him easily, and then he doesn't put in the best work to study and learn more. And, you can't talk to him or coach him up without offending him. I was like that until it started clicking for me in college, although I would take any help.

There's still hope for his future in science and math, but English...I got a chuckle driving home after dropping him at school thinking I could Tweet my newest thought on Twitter, but it was too long (but something he'd appreciate as a Star Wars fan):

"Welcome to the rebel alliance my son where we fight for freedom of tyranny, get a good education without any hope of a decent paying job. You're one of us now. The struggle is real."
March 19, 2017 at 1:29am
March 19, 2017 at 1:29am
#907128


"Burning light inside my dreams
I wake up in the dark
The light is outside my door..."

This song is so truncated and whistfully sweet. What do you suppose she means?

We can dream but reality is dark? Yet, if we look outside we'll see what's inside ourselves? I'm composing now in my head hoping I can come up with a worthy poem to relate to this song. I caught up on my sleep and I'm burning with this dream-like energy that wants to spill forth on this page...

Dream another time
March 17, 2017 at 4:53pm
March 17, 2017 at 4:53pm
#907036


*BigSmile*


STATIC
Hard Petals of Truth  (E)
A rose pressed in a book is used to help remember True beauty and love that could not be.
#1158939 by BKC


What's old is new again. One of the first poems that helped me realize I had potential as a poet. Relabeled and reedited for contest.
March 2, 2017 at 9:50am
March 2, 2017 at 9:50am
#905822
Burning brightest
On the rising plane
Heat penetrates, warms all.
Separating from forces
Holding our feet
To thawing ground,
We're spellbound.

Uncovered
Truth spills forth
From our dark.
Brilliance of white drifts
Left gleaming glints.
Crystals.
Time flickers.
Life waiting,
Clasped hands moisten.

Uncoupled,
Life waits for us
To do...something
Before that star
Comes crashing down,
Hiding all
That surrounds just two.


To explain the obvious would spoil the mystery of discovery.
Yeah. I came up with that, too. Just leave me now to my dark.
February 21, 2017 at 11:04pm
February 21, 2017 at 11:04pm
#905225
My howls
Like finest violins attuned
Fade
Outside your bedroom door
As morning
Becomes my endless night.






If you manage to pull away from mainstream, stay away from safe, swim out further, you discover things beyond accepted truth.

-Brian Keith Compton
February 13, 2017 at 8:30pm
February 13, 2017 at 8:30pm
#904577


Valentine's Day can even be lonely when you're with someone.
January 12, 2017 at 8:42pm
January 12, 2017 at 8:42pm
#902026
I like to be somber, reflective...





"You encouraged an aimless ghost...
gave hope
I could love better...
love
someone like you."

STATIC
Sugarloaf  (E)
Love encourages long after seperation from the fated one.
#2104924 by BKC
January 1, 2017 at 11:52am
January 1, 2017 at 11:52am
#900767
I spent the last ten years resculpting my body. Will 2017 be the finishing touches? No way I can rebuild this thing to what I had at 21. But, my body is moving so well I can play basketball three days a week. I run three hours on those days, burning over 2,000 calories. Thanks to my Fitbit I can track my activity and fine tune some more.

More to add later, I'm sure....
December 21, 2016 at 12:03pm
December 21, 2016 at 12:03pm
#900000
Born This Way...



Untraveled Road...



I'm on it.

212 Entries · *Magnify*
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/1300042