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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/profile/blog/ripglaedr3
Rated: 18+ · Book · Spiritual · #1149750
Poetic 📝 Jottings got the virtual hardware w/ inspired words cast to a world wide wind.
Poetic 📝 Jottings: Voted WDC’s Best  (E)
3x WDC Quill-Nominated, 2x Winner: BestPoetryCollection 2020-22 (links to poems/awards).
#2251239 by Brian KC Back To Grind

If you only write when inspired, you may be a fairly decent poet, but you'll never be a novelist. -NEIL GAIMAN

“You are an icon here.*BigSmile*
“You suffer, but you suffer brilliantly. Wow, what a great writer.”*Heart*

It’s like plugging myself, but using other people’s (reviewers) words…Review of "Life’s Little interruptions Blooming"

Your poetic muse is on fire! *Fire* Some great emotion, well-balance(d), lovely lyrical qualities -- even the ones that were written out of sadness or anger came through in a clever cadence…It's obvious you've put a lot of work into each entry and the totality of the blog has eye appeal. *Cool*

Recently published in a literary journal *PointRight*   "The Tender Core (Sedona)
Merit Badge in Taboo Words
[Click For More Info]


Congratulations! You won 1st Place in Taboo Words with your fantastic poem, [Link to Book Entry #1027659]. 

I absolutely loved this! *^*Heart*^*

I love the process, constructing and sharing visions in words (no small task considering personal and physical limitations). HONORed to receive WDC’s Quill award: Best Poetry Collection, two years running. Nomination was more than expected. Humbled yet inspired to share all the more.

August 28, 2006

‘…let yourself sit by an apple tree and listen to the apples falling all around you in heaps, wasting their sweetness…” ~ The Painted Drum, Louise Erdrich

SuperNova Afterglow: End Of Daze  (18+)
All that remains: here in my afterlife as a 'mainstream' blogger, with what little I know.
#1300042 by Brian KC Back To Grind

No specific aim going forward

What I used to say: 'Maybe, I just don't get it. Watch me fumble with my version of reality, expose ignorance as truth. You don't have to get me, either. But, wish someone would explain me to myself.' Now I say: *Cool*

Don't just read the parts to construct your theory, as if to confirm (construed out of context) your opinion, mentally-stunted Neanderthal. What? Oh, this? A rhetorical, self-motivational speech I'm working on. Therapist wants me to be less negative toward myself. I see it as attacking, rather than being defensive. Fear I will chomp too many bullets unintentionally sent toward the unsuspecting. *RollEyes*


What Was NEW

Who am I, you ask? My mirror knows that question, repeated daily.

Just trying to create a little buzz, not boost my ego.

#amwriting #poetry #blog #contest #freeverse #award #bestpoetry #freyaridings #lyrics #music #video #YouTube

"Note: Poetry: life’s little interruptions amassing int..."
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November 25, 2022 at 8:37am
November 25, 2022 at 8:37am
Reflecting Mortality

a thin vision near

Drawn down
while you’re stuck
chasm I can’t cross
no magic in imagination to build a bridge
see you gaze at my emerald
as I peer down on your ruby

you fierce clutch your animal

I built these ethereal castles
that topple from stones
I see you place your beast aside
by the river
gleaming flowing
smoothing a bed
where you could punch through a surface
to clutch its offering
when my clouds appear

a portal takes me back
before you can take me down
into that unknown

November 25, 2022 at 8:36am
November 25, 2022 at 8:36am
Each time I open the pantry door now
to deposit them
in the brown paper bag
held inside the receptacle, I scoff
“say hello to the Pacific Ocean for me.”
There’s major breakthroughs in the field of bullshit
while we believe we save a periled planet
one recycled Pepsi 20-ounce bottle at a time.
Cut apart those six plastic rings…for Flipper.

November 25, 2022 at 8:34am
November 25, 2022 at 8:34am
Little Gourd

I witnessed the most plump gourd
blossom on the vine,
yellow flower-topped,
above sere soul
beneath backyard pine.

It didn’t need much sunshine.
Withered, the flower tapered brown,
and the ripening stopped.

Not cold, but inert.
It slow shriveled and sank,
dark as that once bright flower,
detached at stem,
melt a hard, prickled surface.

It alone glossed by frost.

Not many grew that year
for an ignorant farmer who still
cannot conceive
if he erred, what went wrong.

Not much I can do. Till,
fertilize, close the bed
until spring. Plant again.

How must I toil before hope
for a little gourd runs out?

Reap what you sow
My toil with words bears hopeful fruit appreciating with time.
It's really about raising my kids.

                   2-Time WDC Quill Winner: Best Poetry Collection, 2020 and 2021. NOMINATED for 2022!

For quill 2021 winners

Life’s Little interruptions Blooming  (18+)
Poetic 📝 Jottings got the virtual hardware w/ inspired words cast to a world wide wind.
#1149750 by Brian KC Back To Grind
November 23, 2022 at 5:25pm
November 23, 2022 at 5:25pm

you win...second place. *Laugh*

                   2-Time WDC Quill Winner: Best Poetry Collection, 2020 and 2021. NOMINATED for third time in 2022!

I need to retire.
November 18, 2022 at 4:52pm
November 18, 2022 at 4:52pm
buds of chrysanthemum

the mums went silent in their pots
on the porch step
since frost
since snow fell over night

white woven with green,
chin hairs
pierce a soft blanket yielding,
past a naked maple clinging
to precarious, withered offspring,

porch blooms poke,
penetrate our early shadows

they’ll not die easy

brave buds of chrysanthemum,
bright, beautiful,
crisp as new winter weather

greet me


just looking out my window at something that I could take care of
November 4, 2022 at 2:46pm
November 4, 2022 at 2:46pm


Every damn day

Then, mothballs


Return heroically, again

Get stapled to wall

Work all day to free myself

Fly into the ceiling fan


pick myself up

Say, 'Aha! You didn't foil me that time.'

Look at watch and yawn

Back to the mothball haven

10 hours later

pour two black cups

sweeten, add cream

chug chug chug

off i go on adventure


This’ll take a little longer

So on and so forth

It goes like that

i marvel at life

what it throws at me

Doesn't know

i return every damn day

pelted by rain

stung by sleet

fluffed by flakes

frozen in gales



move my iron shovel

move a mountain

move a heavy frame

enter the inner portal

warm, again

sing in steam shower


binge forgotten television

stop wondering about existentialism for a few hours



try to sleep

write write write
stuff like this

until my eyes...

should i?




Some days, remind
we forget the mothballs

still bound about a planet
aim for sky

trip, fall
pick ourselves up

don't care if anyone sees
but try something less dangerous


spend day in bed
back in head

write again


write more


write into a corner
something too long for any printed publication

outmoded in 15 minutes time

no, pretty sure it's not


i can do all this

and have time for more

Don't see very well —




or is it paranoia?


just indifference
maybe, gaslighting

i can accept
i'm average

keep leaping over higher and higher mounts
pull tall ships from harbor to sea

chug chug chug-a-lug-gug-gug

write write write




coda ~

you think you can manipulate and control me, life?

watch what i do

duck and slide

move to side

Throw your worst at me

don't care if I live or die

i'm as valueless at birth

as i will be below the womb

in dirt

Be careful of my loved ones

they profit from my demise

more space in the mothball tent

less of my words to eat.


Hello, non-existant publisher? Oh, yeah. It's just a lighted wall with very low wattage. Plug me in??

I only mean this in the most expressive of senses. I don't live with disregard but respect. In defense of the death benefit portion of policy.
October 30, 2022 at 10:46pm
October 30, 2022 at 10:46pm
I don’t know if this speaks what I mean…

This is what it’s like to be at the bottom of a jar.
You can manage to climb topside but
you’ll never get the lid off.

Potential as a positive possession that cannot escape from its realm,
or actually exceed.

Did I climb in? Yes.
Did I know what I was getting into? No.
It looked cozy inside the glass house.
Growing paranoia? No.
Because it makes you too numb to do anything about it,
or care.

I fear I’ll look for a sharp instrument one day
that will free me from this gas.

Then what will you do?
Try not to cut myself on the shards.
I likely won’t escape, but wait for another jar?
Why? What else is there?
My mind is too drained to conceive.

The gas inside my glass is thick.
In evaporation, I get glimpses.
It’s too strange to think what might have been.

…but I’m trapped.


Thanks to all the people who’ve said ‘wait right there’ and never returned.
I either don’t approach anymore, or walk away once I lose sight of them.
October 30, 2022 at 4:16pm
October 30, 2022 at 4:16pm
She wiped a silver spatula
clean of buttercream on black napkins
after each incision of a red wedding cake

three tiers, four corners —
what were my chances
of getting a corner piece?

i trod, clomped, lumbered
a lazy line in slow tow

She cut each precisely, plated
the pampered squares

One corner left
One small boy before me
got the desired lot

without a smile for her delivery
I grabbed four used napkins

savored cravenly on exit
her puzzled expression.

October 28, 2022 at 11:05pm
October 28, 2022 at 11:05pm
Unmasked Crusader
         Whose Name I Forget

Did somebody kill your parents, too? Maybe,
you want to get that knee off my neck,
Batman? Who’s the black one here?
Since I’ve known you, your molars grind
like a knife carving rock. Some mistake

your need for justice with desire
for rightful vengeance. Do you know
with who you’re fighting? Green graspers
see your carnal desire. Profile,
fund malice, step away
but don't watch. Here on the cement
lasting nine minutes.

A weaponized human of hate
against society, veils as your killer...
clueless, unable to think for self,
for community. Incentivized, implied
infer what to do, ego emboldened.
Hatred, the gleaming fire, brands.

They glad pat your back in shadow,
toss another biscuit, ring
a Pavlovian bell. Puts me
on flat, hot cement. Can’t compose
thoughts to reason with you...
until they speak
for me
too late.

Not a room full of writers flashing scripts,
or most uncommon composure to express.
A watch smashed into irreversible time.

You have your whole life.
I couldn’t count to ten.
Everything is hindsight,
reaction in retrospect.

We don’t get do overs, only fantasize
what is right and what is wrong.
I watch this heavy scale now compress a planet.

We embellish, don’t we dark crusader?
Another crusade gets rerouted
from a parade path to monuments of justice.

Buried black box,
you in cinder cubicle, soon rubble,

And, now what do you fight? A system
that builds monsters, molded from bullies
sent to their gray rooms with no dessert
for an oops, my bad?


Just re-edited and added to this. It got away from me and became a George Floyd thing. I can relate to injustice and people in shadows pulling strings to get others to act on their behalf for what they call the greater good...all systemic. For not being a pawn, I have to get out of the way now and watch it go down with all the people I love, or could love, if we'd be allowed to unite in peaceful harmony.

As best I can put it, for now.
Can I just say you can get profiled for something other than skin color, sexuality but other unwanted preferences interfering with their society? In fact, be the least patronized now, stock plummeting. Not that I care. It's affecting my offspring. No??
October 28, 2022 at 11:04pm
October 28, 2022 at 11:04pm
When You Woke

What’s the point of listening to the whole album?
But we’ve done it --
body gravity-laid,
stereo on dresser,
juddered 50-lb speakers undulating, or
ears sponge-cupped to coiled cord
strung tight across a cabled room.

Three tiny bones accept
waves entering a narrow passageway,
swim a vibrating canal to drum,
undeniable musical messages.

From one side, flipped
and then the other. Repeated.

Why take time to consider every lyric,
every melting melody
on our backs, in recompose?

Empty minds immersed
an hour of scarred vinyl,
diamond pointer plying wave-grooves
gliding a lumpy platter
perfect-playing anthems. Delicious
sounds paired with new ideas,
arriving thoughts.

We compose, carry forward
processed lives pre-recorded,
in old denim profess -- called boomers.
Sounding clear as minted silver in lead,
quarter clangs, circles a cylindrical container,
bounced by youth with no skill
for a beer-bath receptacle?

Take a drink runt.
Your memes and 15-second mind candy
will rot your head, kid.
You’re the record they mint now.
You’ve been flipped.

I’ll be on the dark side of the moon
when you woke.

37 lines of free verse

10.29.22 edit, public
11.8.22 edit for proper context and metaphor(s)

on message
October 28, 2022 at 11:03pm
October 28, 2022 at 11:03pm
Binge After The Holographic Time Warp

We’ve been racing our vehicles hard
back-and-forth through time
flowing through intersections
missing off-ramps
speeding past posted police.
We worry about being pulled over.
But, the sun starts to rise
and a road ahead gleams brilliant.
We go

faster the better.
And, on these journeys employ
navigational gear
rewritten map heads.
Familiar road signs seen
stops along the way
nostalgic places
consume, refuel.

Places we dream
never match expectation.

Sweet memory
she couldn’t leave a sawmill town
now shut down.
No logs jam a river.
Brakes unemployed
roll past a ghost town
not torn down
but heart drawn shapes
by exes and ohs
eat through thinning paper.

Can I still come to your house?
echoes over wire black
strung overhead.
Loop through

past farm fields
if not inserted strip malls, gas stations
or pearly banks.
So many degrading institutions.
Your heap groans into bends
of roundabouts
merging with semis taking two lanes.

If you double back
through that slip-second portal
wormhole to present
pull into that holographic hole
throw off coat skin
wash hands
ignore potatoes growing tubers in a pantry void
(experimental, hypothetical
not dead yet, but not alive)
that could peel
you order out tonight

again binge.
Pictures so clear
cannot be traded for
fuzzy, particled reception
on the dumpster-tossed
once road-ready
7” television glowing
connected to a 9-volt lighter
outside a cab
underneath that canopy of starlit leaves

with dissatisfaction.

Hi-Def lies the truth about our memories.

I don’t care if it strays from metaphors or fails to illume imagination from inside a bubble-wrapped head.
October 28, 2022 at 8:12pm
October 28, 2022 at 8:12pm
Woozy with drug, floating
in a rusted out tub

I don’t seem to drown
The water goes down

a ring around my neck
marks time wasted

in my fiberglass palace
much water displaced

Over time, skin dries
just like gill-slit eyes

marking murky time
in these temporary baths

Pass me another glass
More burgundy to pass


It sounds like you don’t enjoy life, Brian. It is what it is, for the present time. High tide nears…I’ll ride those waves until done.
October 24, 2022 at 7:48am
October 24, 2022 at 7:48am
Where do I put my foot in the stream
and rant
at five a.m. and not be late for work
when I just want to nail it
like Paul Rudd did
in a movie from 10 years go
with a clip that now goes viral
about cup sizes, languages
and to have that beverage spill
all over yourself
because I don't have a team of writers
to craft my dialogue,
yell, line!
because it can't be rehearsed
how can it be rehearsed?
but life wants you to get it in one take
you dipped your toe in the waters
at the wrong point
too late
Where do I leave off here...?

21 lines *RollEyes*

typed off the top off my head in two minutes before i have to runnnnnn.....
October 22, 2022 at 8:44pm
October 22, 2022 at 8:44pm
Epic Poem Weekend

Never have I loved or hated to hear my name
whether angry
punches holes in a quiet landscape
chews scenery
or edging toward pleading
in lilting syllables
hovers over a compelled head

finger waggled
in extended syllables
gentle, identified my need for compliance
louder calling
the lost boy off in his woods
sometimes melodious
but, when hide and seek tiresome
shorter, more commanding

off this chain
in my trees
sound of my name lifted,
it seeks a clearing
but can’t top those giants
relocated by angles
from cupped mouth toward other horizons
it lost direction over time
left me behind
in deeper brush,
fading, b r i a…

anyway spoken
Brian pings and echoes
ricochets off stone walls
flat spun over open water
it dove down

But, I always came home
even if late, dark
love cooing, culled a coy boy to near
I’d done something good?
felt it in a sweet tooth

then her,
the one
who located a lonesome lad
name lingered on wetted lips
in dark strung wire

lustful cat eyes spied
warmth of a tender mate
purred breathy

she crept up from behind
tender hand, and arm
slid up back and over shoulder
nuzzled an eager ear

raspy heat
again, more loving

winter-beaded water
on frozen pane lingered
on tongue of a child

craving my name
with her hunger —

an ordinary name
given to an average boy
dreaming impossible fantasy
before reality
questioned if I’m near…

You’re next

a life arrived in his latex hands
warmest arrival
awake inside her dream of a boy
before it broke

one lifetime to live
to love or hate salutation
and return one day
unwanted to ground —
not a womb —
with name in stone
silenced, spelled correct
slid beneath silvery surface

echo forever
in your muffled scene —
in black void
five letters,
three consonants,
two vowels
permanently savored from lips to ears

that’s my name

you wore it out.


Part of the two syllable set. Sorry to the James and Johns of the world.
My mom called me Brian, chastised anyone who’d shorten it, nickname me otherwise.
No moniker ever stuck.

Add: Lots of other ways to describe the various ways Brian can be emphasized by tone, inflection, clarity, or vocal range…
October 16, 2022 at 10:24am
October 16, 2022 at 10:24am
When an object is in orbit
actually falling the entire time
it moves to the side fast enough
to always miss the surface of its master

how do you sleep
how do you autopilot
this world, this realm without
sustaining a few scrapes, dings?

how do you stay afloat
how do you stay fleet
when this world crushes as it rolls?

stay in motion, never quit
only do, just do

When an object finds itself
floating free in your space
sending transmissions to the surface
are they received? conceived?

who am i talking to but me?
could i survive an ellipsoid?
stretching myself eternally around you?

I travel thrice the speed
of man made obstacles thwarting
my every entry into your atmosphere
do I redirect, risk miscalculation?

Float free, young Jedi, do
I'll be young eternally
as long as this space has bandwidth
as long as Elon Musk provides free service?

lines and lines of free (this) verse
Imagine the italicized as clouds (or fog, located down here)

sorry Ukraine, we needed someone/thing to root for as we dull, dim, go out before the rush into total darkness

too deep, Brian. too, too deep
rejoin us. Besides, not the point. Rejoining now..


this could have been about a stone skipping across water, if we could slow its 3 second life to 85 years?

October 15, 2022 at 10:49pm
October 15, 2022 at 10:49pm
I don’t know life
what typifies sheltered me
but as … silent majority
white male

What burrs
from my pale, ash lips
must be white noise

In the mad crush
of a sound tunnel
that’s trapped me within
below mud
ancient as layers
that swallow whole monuments
collapse pyramids

Maybe, one tedious earth duster
will dig me up
some day
put me in a museum
From dingy little backwoods
where beetles lay waste to pine
whisk me off
to Paris, Rome and other
high-brow, wine regions
(if grapes haven’t extinguished)

Run your gold fingers
through my dust
Cart my bones
city to city
in velvet lined
glass case

But I care first for the scrolls
not in future centuries
or my hollow expression
But be conferred now
before rodentia and maggots
come beneath box elder
at the bank
with a rusted-through gun.

39 lines, free (as a dove) verse

My thanks to J. Cash grunge and alt rock covers
for keeping it reel

bullied into silence as a youth
shamed if I don’t button it
because I step in it like chewing gum
Who put it there?
October 15, 2022 at 7:51am
October 15, 2022 at 7:51am
we're updating. things will only get better.
sometimes, i'm not so sure anymore...sorry...

Loading slower now
like watching the wind
looking for signs

Images, time images
fall flat under dim screen
pixels like snow land
looking for them now

It glows, as time goes
heart manages on its own
lungs independent the same
looking out this world
for the coldest rain

Loading, waiting
looking for signs

Memories, time images
disintegrate in a dull mind
pixels won't load
landing now

Yet, it glows
as time winds down
I keep living despite
the last of the brightest smile
goodbye for now, sun


'last' was supposed to be 'loss'
my subconscious took over somehow and shifted focused to the sun from her

Internalized thoughts continued

The Cars reflect in two songs to open their album:

I've listened to the same song for too long = without a dust jacket, warped vinyl wears thin

okay, longer definition than necessary

I can come at this theme all kinds of ways.
October 11, 2022 at 7:53pm
October 11, 2022 at 7:53pm
fiery heart shaped portal
persistently traversed
when she lays her hands on the keys
vocal chords waxed wet
pain-pinged perplexed
why her/my other no longer...
no longer
that's as far as we get

imagine a wormhole back
but fire persists
and the other..
the other?
that's as far as we get

at least we have each other
or, i have caged
pain-pinged chords
bleeding inside my head
persistently traversing
her universe until
we've met...

who knows what could have be(en)?
either way or one way
it's gonna be (grammatically) incorrect


legs draped on the edge of our universe
i hum along
wanting to belong


when will it end?

somebody once said: love is not possession
but i don't want to tell you who

Thanks F.R.
the more your stock plummets
the older i get
when my stock could rise

(just image all kinds of arrows
pointing to the text)
i was ready to be done there...
and there...
and that year...
and there...
and then you and now
and i'm here...i'm here?

until it's later
October 11, 2022 at 7:30pm
October 11, 2022 at 7:30pm
head in box wants to see outside
         corrugated fiber expanding
3 kilometers per second
per megaparsec
         eventual acceptance
to have been passively living
inside a coffin for life

can't turn that into a limerick
while waiting on scientists
to combine two theories:

         break open 2
holographic black holes
minus supersonic jets colliding
         wormhole fantastically
a known universe in an instant

and arrive
at another time
in another dimension
to ask:
that was it? and what is this?

I'm going back to my cardboard life
have they tried AABBA?

24 lines, free verse

can you tell i'm bored?
First verse is about rate universe is expanding
ER=EPR is explained in link above. Poem summarizes two co-authored Einstein papers, that combined suggest possibility of inter-dimensional travel.
This is a poem why?
We solve for the life we have, not the hypothetical. Scientists should try limericks.

I've weaponized repulsor technology into my own form of poetry
Consider these little interruptions as repulsorlifts integrated into a cloudy, neural city (idea for nerdy poem?)
October 4, 2022 at 12:59pm
October 4, 2022 at 12:59pm
I couldn't dress today.
but rather than be cliché,
left the robe on the closet nail.

no to silk or cotton PJs,
sweats and tee are okay.
rain pauses to check this mail.

also ran I'd rather not be.
going through motions futilely,
just a shadow on my lonely street.

they put me in those clouds.
angry I didn't make them proud,
invisible soul they no longer greet.

highway to their heavenly place
snubs a fool who rejects their grace.
I ache to be substance that matters.

fiery arrows reign down on me.
arrogantly flung, they don't see,
strikes a glass heart that shatters.

lonely in shadows, still on my feet,
guarded against rain in an empty street,
struggle to matter. indignant guilt
could bury a head in stone to the hilt.

22 lines, rhyming (tell me what kind?)
Six three-line stanzas with particular alternating rhyme pattern finishes on four line verse with aabb scheme.

people around me want to dictate and control the narrative and reject the insertion of how I perceive myself and circumstances I'm put in, knowing their propaganda will not allow me to envision future purpose with anything I might lift and call my Excalibur.

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