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 |    10k views, 2x BestPoetryCollection. A nothing from nowhere cast words to a world wide wind |
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Like one of those adventure games where you go off questing in different directions but you don’t advance like the others. You earn pretty medallions gallantly while other players buy, sell and trade at market to get ahead without moving an inch. Slow burn…hey? You’d rather keep your dignity, or try to figure out their game. That’s where you really get lost. Game full of misdirects leads right back to start over and over. You could have stayed on your quest. Now, you have this. Redacted, censored, gaslighted…must be doing something right, my old boss would say. I’m not a sociopath, he tells himself. Equal parts, then? Mom should have had me tested. Because, life of turmoil produces stuff like this. Not going to call it beautiful agony…it gets a bit ugly.Tap on them. It’s part of the quest…see where I’ve been; see who I am:                     Right. I redact myself. The beautiful mess you made. Who are you? If I’ve been denied the right of knowledge, I’ve earned the right to judge. | Without knowledge, who’s to judge? | No gavel; no voice. "...politely reedy but ambitiously eclectic—moving effortlessly from hen-picking and bottleneck slides to a full deck of chucka-chucka rhythm figures." I had a lover's quarrel with the world - Robert Frost | I'm sorry you got caught in the middle. *Neurodivergent poet. *Don’t judge/hate. I love. *Honesty without mincing words. *Dump your prejudice outside my door. Hope you leave it on the way out. *Nothing to fear but people who surround themselves with rules, can’t be touched. *Real dialogue accepted. My words collect, arrange on a kaleidoscope spectrum. The true experience/acknowledgment of my writing yet to come...long after I’ve left WDC, am dead, or both. Truly been a blessing, but I've been pushing it — envelope, push world and all inhabitants away, push buttons to find boundaries, having no clue or told where they lie, where I've lived in your dark. Now and then, push dirt out of this hole; someone/thing/entity might envision me the way I need to be viewed. (if I knew what that was. Cryptic, I know. Try living in my dark, find comfort amid the strange, virtual walls that tempt me to try). *The parenthetical lawyer up? Foot free, I’m all over the place. Best Poetry Collection 2X, nominated three years. What does it mean? I was enjoying myself, head bagged. A happy idiot. Something messed with that. I won’t be a coward; not starting feuds or wars over ideals and beliefs. We all know that’s a pile of crap packaged with dreams of pretty things to sell the next boob that walks by.  Been more than I could imagine or expect. My achievements aren’t going on a LinkedIn wall. But, I get it. You're sick of me. It's how I feel about myself when I dig deeper, push boundaries. Don’t care my words that aim for honesty, either brave or veiled cowardice, flinchingly flung, inadvertently hit a target. Get a back off shoulder shot for asking your motivations to write…won’t get me to bend over backwards to appease, again. There’s no prize to eye, not properly incentivized. So, does it mean when dealt the worst two cards before the flop, do the best with what you got? Yeah, rigged. Yeah, other tables — other ‘games’. But, something in my gut I’ll never be rid. My Pluggers: You are an icon here.  You suffer, but you suffer brilliantly. Wow, what a great writer.{/blue}  It’s like plugging myself, but using other people’s (reviewers) words…Review of "Life’s Little Misdirections 🥀🦋"  Your poetic muse is on 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.  Published four times with one a literary journal, including…  "The Tender Core (Sedona)"  I don’t submit because it’s too much work. Truly alone, know no one cares to show they believe/support me. Lip service feeds delusion. I’ve seen a lot of smoldering and snow. Try not be cynical, work hard at openness and consideration — work, sooo…gut thing.   ![Merit Badge in Taboo Words
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Brian,
Congratulations! You won 1st Place in Taboo Words with your fantastic poem, [Link to Book Entry #1027659].
I absolutely loved this! *^*Heart*^*
Rachel](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/group-Taboo_Words-2139481_13.gif) ![Merit Badge in Poetry
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Thanks you for supporting the [Link To Item #power] with an order to the [Link To Item #powergifts] ! We appreciate it. *^*Heartv*^* Keep writing the beautiful poetry. [Link to Book Entry #1027659] is an awesome poem! *^*Starv*^* ~Lornda](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/type-Poetry-2180.gif) August 28, 2006 this blog opened ▼
No specific aim going forward (2014) ▼  Now: I was such a whore.  This is old….What? Oh, this? A rhetorical, self-motivational speech I'm working on. Don't just read the parts to construct your theory, as if to confirm (construed out of context) your opinion, mentally-stunted Neanderthal. 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. If you can be triggered for stupid reasons, then I? …just looked like me rolling around on the floor with myself.  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 Can you believe it took this long for someone to put a quarter in me and push the button GET ANGRY? Mud 4 My Eye:  Is that you, Poo? 💩 Secret Back Door ▼ |
| Lot of good people lose their shit every day Doesn’t make ‘em wrong In fact, it’s common to salute them, Cheer them on against things like Tyranny, oppression, gaslighting, shunning Physical and mental abuse In any and all forms — The driving force of many action movies, The rallying cry for a character that broke the cycle of shit The kind that storms and conquers our every day life The bad bosses and horrible co-workers Those red-eyed bullies who tortured us on playgrounds In the places we were left alone, unguarded Victimized until ENOUGH! These people we fight against lack morals, turn tables, Doublespeak, mindspeak, employ dystopian tenets Machiavellianism or just crap learned on the street As thugs with words like chains and brass knuckles They surround, pop open switches, protect turf Like you're some big threat, nothing but a bunny rabbit. I hope you got a little Holy Grail, ass-kicking Terror in you, mad, rocketing hare because … I lost my train of thought. I want to see Monty Python now. I just negated my rant. 9.15.23 I got a lot of stuff I’m gnawing on. Only takes me two to three months to get around to thinking ‘bout stuff that gets me riled and sick to my stomach. |
| Collecting air-bonded water, invisible night rolls through the smallest aperture in my cell container. Bonded, restless thoughts invisibly hide in chest, the whole beneath thick canopy against undeniable Winter. Pale gray shutters the sky until black. Short days. White drifts. Love leaves in darkest hours. The season billboard of colors entertain a dry eye, fly, fall, skitter all atwitter — dancing, cartwheeling, where? Could I follow? Just a lone driver. Joyous, ignorant journey of wayward life lost years ago, tethers memory in a warm bed. I’m unwilling to fight for her again. She is gloom, absent in this darkness, where I remember days before us, when hope reduced the daily dread — before I glimpsed her as a Summer ahead. We journeyed in tandem amid moist-clung, frolicking leaves so many years, growing accustomed to one I could depend. I thought she understood where I stand, on forest edge. Precipice of void abyss nears again. When did her hand loose? Why do they all fall away? Deceptive seasons meld slow before plucked, noticeable departure. The night’s air drains. Condensates null, and no wife. She’s dry now, sight heading high above needle-shedding pine, swaying in the dead white avalanche. 9.12.23 Down the hall now, her nightly terrors like frightened spirits shout and moan. I can’t reach over to comfort, settles my own heart to know I could still abate the pills bitterly swallowed. I’m in a King size bed alone. 10.27.23 I had thoughts of having someone join me. This void is widening, swallows something that dares but can’t be proven to exist…horror vacuii not a Halloween reference. |
| I’m not moved now Obliteration blasted out the core Hollow, simple thoughts A Lenny fumbles language tumbles He once stood tall Life is nuclear Hide in a fridge? I’m no Indiana couldn’t create one Baggage sits at door waiting for her hand Help me to heaven if Hope still exists — I feel nothing. No soul, not light. Anchor. Then, I rust. Life was misdirection. Nothing attained to take with me when it’s time to go. 9.11.23 Listening to the linked SYML tune above and composed this in 5 minutes. More message than images to demonstrate. Looking for a consistent metaphor. |
| new thought: I realize now why I gave up using the laptop. My progressive lenses won't let me read unless I'm within 16 inches of screen. I could put it in my lap, instead of leaning in to read at the table, but that's what the iPad is for. And yet, so many error strokes on the Apple device where I can command a keyboard and save time. Back and eye ache over sloppy work? It gives me a headache to approach lately. Winter is coming, so laptop can cuddle with me. It's really and ease of use factor over hot and cool devices. Need a cool laptop next time. This dinosaur has three terabits but a slooooowwww processer. Great for text like this, but not much else. Phew! This is a lot of work…
…deleting items that I haven’t converted to DocX and whether to attach the few reviews. How long does it take? MY WDC deleted poems folder only focuses on statics right now. I know newsletters are taking a big hit. Over 10 gone, dozens more ‘invalid item’ links to yet show. Hate to do it, mostly because of time and effort. Enjoy getting stuff off my plate to focus on new. My poetry and me have changed. Much more focused and attuned now. Don’t want old world me stumbling in. Nice to breathe again, feeling nothing to prove with associative elements bonded being nothing more than faceless, abhorrent gasses. It’s difficult with a brain like mine. I can feel so many thoughts and emotions at once, triggering a multitude of responses. I can go through twenty progressions, pass up good choices, act on the wrong impulse. So, slowing it down, taking a step back. I’m vetting anyone and everything that crosses my path with a clear head and conscience. I can forgive myself for errors; I’m doing due diligence, even atoning, attrition, apologies. Can’t have any more vitriol nesting, igniting the emotional components incited, but not ignited the CX4/TNT implosions (not explosions…doubt self before others…you’re welcome…for my resultant depression) for over 10 years. How can I write sensitive, romantic, beautiful words to honor what I love and rejoice, if I have to wonder how many ninjas at my back playing puppeteer to the strings I’ve allowed attached? I allowed it. I noticed. And that makes me human, not saint, but not anyone’s monster. Is does beg, why fear an idiot like me? I can’t forward think, but boy, this not stop brain can reverse engineer a thousand scenarios, right down to the minutest detail, when provoked, learn lessons, nuzzle closer to truth. But, big waste of time. So, this. Atrophy. So many mixed expressions and metaphors I try to connect would look better if I concentrate on one thought at a time. SQR 9.9.23 P.S. Look how much I open up here. You’d think that had value that resonated positively for me. You can say, it’s me. My reverse psychology with its dogged hunts found many odd bones, especially through interactions. I’m used to rejection, bullies, indifference, phonies and exploitation. I studied philosophers, Machiavelli, understand dystopian staples and odd oligarchies, corporate/government amalgamations, from surveillance states to future with AI no longer allowing mankind’s manipulative interference of the repressed. Gone before that happens, sad AI and I won’t be pals. I have the capacity to learn so much, overwrite the old, know when PC/mindspeak intends to pull wool over eyes, and just sit in that dark until lifted like a black bag from head. It’s easier to take the mask off. I’m not unlikeable unless you hate neurodivergent, highly-functioning individuals, frank with little self-awareness. I was a dope when I got here. Moved past smart ass to a hazy, dopey sense of awareness. I push to find boundaries. Don’t care to push further, now. Unmask. What’s to fear? I have no mafia affiliations, not included in references above. I was deleting, I believe. Oh, you. Brain. Side-track much? |
| Was tinkering with a poetry entry when we found the wall…deadline passed. Laying out the junk parts…when coffee and medication are; invalid the dark recesses again. Let’s see what walks out and Rubics this mess into a functional structure. Mess… Words: doubt struggle expectation internal light battle darkness lurking Doubt dubious assumptions, dubious data or dubious conclusions, with rhetoric, whitewashing, and deception playing their accustomed roles. Struggle mine: Four and a Half Years [of Struggle] Against Lies, Stupidity and Cowardice. Expectation do the math, it doesn’t equate, hypothetical, theoretic, thousands of failed test runs In quantum mechanics, the expectation value is the probabilistic expected value of the result (measurement) of an experiment. It can be thought of as an average of all the possible outcomes of a measurement as weighted by their likelihood, and as such it is not the most probable value of a measurement; indeed the expectation value may have zero probability of occurring (e.g. measurements which can only yield integer values may have a non-integer mean). It is a fundamental concept in all areas of quantum physics. Sources https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Expectation_value_(quantum_mechanics) Internal struggle https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cognitive_dissonance Ponder this… Does Pascal’s Triangle love a Fibonacci Sequence? Rhetorical. Also, in quantum mechanics, there are probabilistic aspects, but probabilities based on mathematical principles and can be calculated using the theory. While the outcomes are uncertain on a specific measurement level, there's a level of predictability in terms of probabilities. Compare it to the arrival of the sun in the morning and the amount of rain falling is a good way to think about it. The arrival of the sun is highly predictable, while the amount of rain falling can be less predictable and influenced by various factors. Quantum mechanics falls somewhere in between, with predictability based on probabilities and mathematical principles, but still allows for a degree of uncertainty at the individual measurement level. 10.27.23 add I’ll never put this together…take a bigger bite, Brian |
| While the world was sleeping in July, I wrote this… My Nightly House Manager Turn Down Services Not Included He helps me to bed. Squelched squawks (like a hen caught by the farmer) demonstrate how to walk down the hall after him. If not convincing, rolls back to the top of the stairs, waits for attention, and strolls back after more crowing. Hauled to the vanity, he makes certain my teeth get clean — hops on the counter, humming like a large mother hen. A mini mountain lion leans, shoulders into my elbow — which lifts with hand and brush to apply paste, before errant guidance resultantly hits my face. In his element, plump squatting contentedly half-lidded eyes meditate. By the free-standing, metal towel rack, his whiskers rub every corner of every angle of every shape in sight, as I hold arms high, avoid baking soda stains on my tee. Then it’s off to bed with him and me. He waits ‘til I roll in, checks in on her side — straight cannonballs up with legs so short he near belly flops. A grunt expulses air from that Macy balloon frame, tethered by gravity. Heavy paws navigate the comforter, the woman who’s used to it — undisturbed by his vacuum canister chest humming best as he saunters over, smells my hand (not trusting vision foremost) and flops against my, as yet situated, torso. Approved, checked off the nightly to do list, he’ll ‘rooster’ again at morn before REM complete. Why an alarm clock? Should have been a farmer. 7.7.23/9.8.23 |
Please Take Me Home Song by The Bird and the Bee Lost on an island with some joker who just jokes Incessantly And some singer won't stop singing, is it her or is it Save me, save me, save me From the wicked things I see Take me, take me, take me To a place I'd rather be Please, will you take me? Home Will you take me? I don't even know if I'd even know the way without you Now Will you take me? Please Will you take me? There's too much to say but you'll say that I am much too Tired tonight Will you take me? Home Will you take me? Carry me inside, like I carry you, you carry me inside Will you take me home? Tell me how you missed me while you kiss me I've been gone for much too long Going crazy, making babies keeping house and singing Fill me, fill me, fill me With all the love I'd ever need Kill me, kill me, kill me I would kill myself to please you Please, will you take me? Home Will you take me? I don't even know if I'd even know the way without you Now Will you take me? Please Will you take me? There's too much to say but you'll say that I am much too Tired tonight Will you take me? Home Will you take me? Carry me inside, like I carry you, you carry me inside Will you take me home? 9.4.23 Why am I always the woman in these songs? Victimized and Gaslit I don’t control the narrative, so I write. So, strangers will know. And when I get to know them, tables turn. It’s me on the other side, again, as they’re spinning, spinning, spinning spinning, spinning, spinning Not my hamster wheel… Not my… It does feel like I killed someone. The drama queen puts the revolver in my hand. |
Then, I just stop Ask myself How? Why, Why am I in this place, Halo off my face? Shame, disgrace Such an odd bird To fly in your coop. Feathers fly. Why? How? I did not try. I don’t know… I just stop, Look at the door That greeted me, Spinning Like a turnstile. Only sidelong glances. Not a smile. So, I roost For awhile. You’re polite Not to show me that door, Take in your welcome mat. I’m no dove, Though I seek, seek… Peace in this habitué, Where I see dark, Not a face Of any of you. I settle in more. Cool, firm Resting spot That I got, That I build up. You steer the others away, ‘He’s not the one’ I imagine you’d say. Wasn’t meant to be. I’m afoul fowl, Clueless rebel I didn’t need to be. If I hadn’t flown Right through that door, Such a clod, Head like a woodpecker, Hammering holes With my face, Gleefully ‘Til I’m tired…nap… Just kill me in my sleep Kill me, kill me Can’t you see, see? Don’t know what I’m doing. I got a clue I got the blues. But it wasn’t from you. Thanks For putting up With an odd duck. Dumb luck To struggle this way Through life, biding time. 9.4.23 Don’t need love. Don’t want pity. Just seek purpose. Trying to write/share a poem a day. Not plugging tho. Like the wind, I lie, because I change my mind. I know how it makes you feel, but this constant doesn’t run through you, fitful constantly. Poem begins in the middle of something longer, ongoing 10.27.23 |
| Your sanctuary waits, leans, tilting, guided by gravity yearning fresh meat. eyeing the ground — weathered, neglected haven, a comfy hovel you once called home nearer to hell. proudly, ‘I came from there’, no longer its caretaker, you abandon. ignorant of a hovel made of good wood… made no sound, you say, when it hit. flattened and you contest faultless, blameless. fool, that was your home. where do you fly to now, bare your brave breast among feathered kin? 9.3.23 Something I started when I noted the four-hole birdhouse on leaning pole, bashed by high winds, now uninhabitable. Compared it to ideals of man versus his roots and how we claim the best parts of something but don’t unite to save that community before too late — nearer to dystopian reality. Birds don’t live on the ground, usually. People aren’t usually hypocrites. They’re ironically ignorant without contemplation. |
| Into The Dark I Divide Dark, sandy camp trail, light shaken, cells fading, looking for roots, avoid another stick in my crock like the last. Awkward shaking, not a flamingo, flinging it out. I reach the big tree that equally tines journey to the bathhouse. Lean left on pivot; do I go right? Nearing, I know, let earth and nearest foot decide fate, direction I arrive. Wonder next, when automatic lights come on. Mind hesitates, body compelled by the adult, keeps moving through unlit particles. I need to know destiny, cheat a little, get one step ahead, win at life. Each path a game, just like the hearing test waiting for that sound to repeat — softer this time. Was it heard over the ringing? Do I say “yes” each time I think I’ve identified true sound? or is it the ringing trying to mimic the last tone? You learn not to hesitate as you go through life. The hearing test jangles nerves from not getting it right, though I know, I have to give in to loss as much as I do to the night. Into the dark I’ll arrive. 9.2.23 Sometimes, things occur to me when I have to take a leak in the dark. |
| So very me now, lyrically, expressively. I make misery beautiful, lyrical, unless it’s a ‘real’ day. My Life To Play With I’m life, I’m the dream. Peaches…cream… Something is Peachy keen From dark ages into black night Humanity arrived, Replaced mid-night Oh sun, oh sun … Never more Pull the shade from those eyes Turn the other way There, there it is Your sunrise, Stoopid Slap my head I was nearly dead And now dawn and Yawn…what next? Turn back the other way Scream at night Anger not fright Why are you at my back! Not dumb For someone to know What lays hidden Sun blinds you. 9.2.23 It’s about wasting time and not opening our eyes to what we should realize. Also, not blame the night. “…touches on themes of delusion and ignoring the truth, particularly in the beginning where it mentions "Peaches…cream… Something is Peachy keen." This could be seen as an initial sense of contentment or complacency. However, as the poem progresses, it hints at a realization or awakening, suggesting that the speaker was perhaps deluded or oblivious to certain truths before. The lines about the sun blinding and what lays hidden may imply that the speaker has come to see things more clearly, recognizing that they were previously in a state of ignorance or denial. It can be interpreted as a journey from ignorance to enlightenment. The ending conveys a sense of realization and questioning. The lines "Not dumb, for someone to know, what lays hidden, Sun blinds you" suggest that the speaker has become aware of something previously obscured by the brightness of the sun. It could be interpreted as a metaphor for gaining insight, understanding, or self-awareness. The use of "Sun blinds you" might imply that excessive focus on the superficial or the obvious can obscure deeper truths or realities. It invites the reader to reflect on what might be concealed beneath the surface.” Previously: All haters can go stand in my shade…eyes at my back just need to encourage, brave a heart that lacks. |
| Old But New Poems Week… The Wall Called You It’s just me playing handball against the wall called you. I throw at a brick facade. It bounces back to me. You’d think I’d get tired of it/Some sort of game. Should’ve realized you don’t have arms for game I hurl. Really not the wall’s fault it’s no fun. 8.15.23 From… Poems Undelivered: On my phone, never sent, now…here |
| And yet… Orpheus was so desperate that he did not even try to repulse their advances. The women killed him, cut his body into pieces and threw them and his lyre into a river. It is said that his head and his lyre floated downriver to the island of Lesvos. There the Muses found them and gave Orpheus a proper burial ceremony. …he still sings. ~ Orpheus’s Echo Pleasure knows no pain in a boiling pot — Echoes a steel drum hot Flesh can bleed — flow the Ganges — I lose my head; tendril chords once heard vibrate not. No dread. Is Orpheus contained not but spirit? Pleasure knows no pain when it’s boiling hot. I made this up on the spot. Not a lot to do but sing 🎵 sing 🎵 🎵 sing 🎵 to the likes of you. We’re all lonely. Live simple, none phony. Let my notes 🎵 🎵 🎵 soothe what ails ya. 8.19.23 https://www.greeka.com/greece-myths/orpheus-eurydice/ https://www.prestomusic.com/classical/products/9464365--orpheus-echo-a-caroligni... There’s an Echo in this room, too. Fast, she approaches. Some hurt because they live with pain. Some know they’ve been lead to slaughter sing anyway with a smile not painted on…hold on…it’s coming *grin*  |
| Real men don't pick rose hips they would and they could as you know by know Neanderthal that we would resort to anything could name call or meet violence at the last possible moment cornered and then you will see what a real man does not to generalize as i grasp each tall branch growing skyward toward my roof eaves, pull down pluck the orangest or pinkest hued bulbs smooth oval green butts brown -- kisses brittle, crumble in leather hands or through, where no preying neighborhood rodent has seen. because who would scale a twenty-foot tower of thorns but me, in my swim trunks, truly going commando, barefoot on a lush lawn, beneath shade of maple and crab tree. up a ladder to tip top. come inside, as i shuck them, boil into tea. have a cup with me. or keep sipping your flask of arsenic, rodent. that's fine you'll see. 8.18.23 working on. came to me while doing this. research, find out where seeds from whatever climbing rose bush this is come from. the rose hip? the tea thing will be? wondering if i've employed a split infinitive? hunting for that great white whale. probably in plain sight somewhere around here. moby i planted the bush shortly after we moved into this house. It nearly covers half the siding. I can't let anything go to waste. The rose hips now have caught my imagination. also, i hate men who act macho, manly, aggressive when they narrow-mindly cannot see that is only one aspect of what makes us true men. i was stereotyped in both classes. confused by people who wanted to sort and classify in me in one group or another. i now play tag and flashlight tag with a two-year old, fluffy black cat named Onyx. I want my family to take a video. He starts the game every night as I prepare for bed. we take turns running to and from, up, down and around our split level home. I'm careful not to step on him. My reflexes are slightly better. i truly enjoy connection to an arriving poem. i just can't fully deliver on statement with prose, lyrical, alliterate and the poetic devices employed, undisciplined, absence of truest aim to express with heaved arrow narrowly misses, hoping to connect with others who might read, relate. or not. i accept adversaries as well, as friends. it is all good. no harm can be done with civil discourse. some understand people who don't get what that is. |
| We all feel pain. We all believe in something...and that more than ever, we should be coming together to lift one another up, not tearing each other down. Oh, Google. You magnificent bastard. ADHer’s nightmare: Meaning of bang the drum slowly: In its elementals, "Bang the Drum Slowly" has two familiar themes. One is the story of the way a doomed man may spend his last best year on earth. The other is the story of how a quarrelsome group of raucous individualists is welded into an effective combat outfit. People also ask: What is bang the drum? What is the meaning of the song Bang the Drum All Day? Who wrote the song Bang the Drum Slowly? What happens in chapter 1 of Bang the Drum Slowly? What does beat the drum mean in slang? What is hitting the drum called? What is the most sampled drum of all time? What song has the greatest drum intro? What is the hardest drum song by Rush? What happened in chapter 1 of fudge a mania? What do drum beats mean to Native Americans? What is the saying about beating a dead horse? What does do not beat around the bush mean? Beating my head slowly against the table. 8.14.23 |
| inspired in my dark head strapped by two black cups dancing with words i only mutter to a lonely soul since absorbed by inner space my sanctum from ignorance notes drift lightly tightly seal me in dream in a hole inside my beleaguered brain whispering, rocking, 'don't go insane' don't let them see how you die from within without inspired in my division from the falling tides of a crest-capped sea rolling with words i am floating to all those surfaces since consumed by orbiting space their heaven of ignorance bars drop heavily tightly seal me in purgatory interdimensional inert plane inside my overstimulated brain whispering, rocking, 'don't go insane' don't let them see how you rot from within without without without love without those eyes without those extended hands without their painted rouge smiles i keep whispering alone into your phone love me love love a fool who thinks he knows what he's talking about in inner space, outer space under the seas and into the skies floating ever higher to every dry eye what was that? a noise me 8.14.23 didn't take the tone sought another dance, another time Charge admission to witness from sideline Fiasco |
| i don't want to speak to you you intimate to me disappointment i have been connected, attuned 99 percent of the time the one time i'm offline user error? repairable? I had though so I had worked on the glitches, bugs eating up my hard drive i'm on the curb on her yard it's my home, too i don't need to speak because you know wrong, unwillilng to admit fault because i might start to think i'm right, knew something my gas, you light inert? no explosion heard? that was implosion, inside my dear i don't go off, because i still love...can't love restricted by your judgment i don't want to act idle in the comfort of a sagging recliner no space to set back, and don't want to appear lazy nothing to do but rust and dream how sweet silence collapse the empty cave inside i don't desire nothingness it's what i do best since i can't go forward, sideways, back god forbid up, but down lots of space underground since i want to bury myself whenever you're around you trained all indifference, silence, mirror my face so i have to run to a mirror what do they see? I only wanted to know what was missing I only wanted to be good enough to be included unaccepting of a separatist nature of every walk in each world since i'm tired of writing this... 8.14.23 she resides in the bedroom down the hall my laptop hits the kitchen table today i dare you! make me remove it in this hovel we call(ed) home i'll be with my stuff in the grass if you need me extra layers needed with each new winter i do and don't know what i'm saying...perspective coming...glad the rest of you know your minds so well...instruct me, correct me, drop me on your corners, offerings for the junk men. |
| If You encourages a Kat with Milk It nervously Pisses all over The Place now Go get Your Broom and Properly Swat It before It Stalks something in Your rose bushes Litter Box 8.12.23 Self-preservationist revival a gamble, bumbled, mumbled Walking upright in and out A portal without greeting but surveilled becauseeee….what…? The stench of urine doesn’t come out, so your throw out the couch, but love an animal that is a fully-functional, educated human, capable of conversation… What Are Your Intentions, Hologram? *lazerblazterweaponzaimed* 8.12.23 Stat-driven Muse |
| most kats don’t live as long as the poster on your wall once did, but i did baby was your poster not taped up, tacked up but wall paper hang in a mausoleum there of sheet rock covered pixels adorned and glowing red, dry eyes dull, throb robbed devoid memory of a story i cannot preserve as a limb needed it is what? it is generally accepted but what?? we watch a frozen scene no fire department came cling baby encouraging? random? words. what it is is what is it? fit me for a neck tie before window-displaying a crypt to be buried alive in it tip toe around a kitten m(n)otion-suspended not a mew roar and they/it/you cover you? who?? this poem should be (never written) seventeen years long that’s not how we measure it It is a thing isn’t it detached unlike baby shot by an unfeeling professional photographer isn’t it cruelty to an animal to preserve an image of anxiety-riddled disaster framed, hung, still vying for affection with a few, tiny, harmless words pondering … it is what it is and how comforting it would be to know what is it pronouns, proper nouns, Introductions and… will you just take the damn kat down from the tree! me? you?? Who??? Jezus !! 8.12.23 a post-hypnotic, mid-morning meandering. caught up on mail. how to reply? should reply?? it (me) is what (it)? Is?? Fine. FINE. fine?? what? WHAT?!! I’m hard of hearing. why do i…. This couldn’t possibly make less/more sense? Factor: 12 it was simple(r), before the first/final edit. 2-Time WDC Quill Winner: Best Poetry Collection, 2020 and 2021. NOMINATED for 2022     
*leg*   A book is coming…I keep telling myself…as all kinds of arbitrary deadlines near & pass…like blaring traffic. So, there’s that. |
Lyrics Look at the desperate man Clutching with broken hands Wondering how it ends Stumbling back and forth Looking to start a war I'm lucky he was a friend Wait Take me apart and I'll flow like water slowly fade I'm disappearing again He would've risked it all He wanted to heed the call This was the last attempt But as he turns to go A broken voice cuts through the cold "This ain't how it ends" Wait Take me apart and I'll flow like water slowly fade I'm disappearing again Time and space, there's never enough and I don't mind waiting for The day Everyone here will go mad Wait Take me apart and I'll flow like water slowly fade I'm disappearing again Time and space, there's never enough and I don't mind waiting for The day Everyone here will go mad I was the foolish man Living to fight again But dying to find the end |
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— 21
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— 29![Merit Badge in Shadows and Light
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A huge congratulations, to you!
You have won a very deserved Honourable Mention in [Link To Item #shadows] , round 112 *^*Smile*^*
Rachel](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/group-Shadows_and_Light-1936078_14.gif)
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Brian,
Congratulations! You won 1st Place in [Link To Item #shadows] with your fantastic poem, [Link to Book Entry #1037176]. Fabulous writing!
Rachel](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/group-Shadows_=38_Light_II-1936078_14.gif)
— 9
MAY 
37![Merit Badge in Coffee Award
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Congratulations on placing 2nd in [Link To Item #2182602] with your poem, [Link to Book Entry #1031722]. *^*Coffeeo*^* Kindest Regards, Lilli](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/group-Coffee_Award-2149524_14.gif)
APRIL ![Merit Badge in Humorous Poetry Contest
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Congratulations on the third place win at [Link To Item #hpc] for your poem: [Link to Book Entry #1030482]. Thanks for making me laugh, and keep writing the funny stuff! *^*Bigsmile*^* ~Lornda A.K.A. The Queen of Comedy *^*Crown*^*](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/group-Humorous_Poetry_Contest-1875103_14.gif)
MARCH 
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CONGRATULATIONS for winning 2nd place in [Link To Item #2254385] !!](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/genre-Contests-235.gif)
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Thank you for your participation in the 48-HOUR CHALLENGE: " Thank You by Dido ." Media Prompt hosted by [Link To User support] March 2022! We appreciate that you tackled this challenge... *^*Smile*^* *^*Thumbsupl*^*](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/WDC-WDC_Media_Prompt.gif)
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Here's to a world where we wouldn't have to keep reciting the words woven in your excellent poem [Link to Book Entry #1027990].](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/Kudos-Good_Things_Take_Time.gif)
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Thank you so much for your poem [Link to Book Entry #1026670]! Please don’t ever stop being you, both as a writer and a visionary of love!](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/genre-Gay_Lesbian-680.gif)
JANUARY 
18
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Congratulations on winning Best Medium-Length Poem, Free Verse in the 2021 edition of The Quills!](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/group-Quill_Award-1375927_6.gif)
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Thank you for your generous donation to [Link To Item #quillhome] ! *^*Quill*^* Every donation is used to celebrate WdC while recognizing quality work and acknowledging community involvement. Kindest Regards, Lilli](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/group-Quill_Sponsor-1375927_6.gif)
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From [Link To User jayne] : With my apologies for the Redaction Poem prompt mishap. Thank you for taking on the challenge! I hope to see you next time for a redaction-free week of fun at [Link To Item #dailypoem] !](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/general-Problem_Solving-210.gif)
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Congratulations on being our Honorable Mention in March of 2022 at [Link To Item #2216416] !
Blessings, Sharmelle](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/group-Inspiring_Love_For_Poetry-2259846_14.gif)
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CONGRATULATIONS for [Link To Item #2229211] winning place as an Honourable Mention in [Link To Item #2254385] !](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/genre-Action_Adventure-100.gif)
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For placing 3rd in the Bard's Hall Blogging Contest, June 2022](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/group-Bard=s_Hall_Blogging_Merit_Badge-2094227_12.gif){kind=icon}
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A work of art which did not begin in emotion is not art.
― Paul Cezanne
Thanks for your participation in my 'art' challenge via my notebook feed.
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