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Printed from https://shop.writing.com/main/profile/blog/ripglaedr3/day/5-13-2023
Rated: 18+ · Book · Spiritual · #1149750
A nothing from nowhere cast his words to a world wide wind, hindered by periphery.
...white-hot coruscating genius that more than once dipped its proverbial toes in the obscure.
https://ew.com/recap/community-season-3-episode-16-inception/




T̵̢̝̗̰̪̠̹͗̾̾h̵̥͉̲̠̍̽͛̌͂̆̚ě̸̗͓̱̺̮̣̽͆ Ab̴̦̄̈͐̾̑̚͝s̸͉̻̃͘ě̸̗͓̱̺̮̣̽͆n̴̝͚͎͔̘̰̅ͅcě̸̗͓̱̺̮̣̽͆ o̷͍̥̣̺͋f̶̭̱̘͇͊͋̾̋̄͆ Wa̴͙͓̓̕vě̸̗͓̱̺̮̣̽͆l̵̩̘̯̪͋͒͒̉͒̄ě̸̗͓̱̺̮̣̽͆n̴̝͚͎͔̘̅ͅg̸̫͙̻̭͐͝ț̴̵̢̝̗̰̪̠̹̈́͌͆̑͋͂̅͗̾̾h̵̥͉̲̠̍̽͛̌͂̆̚            


You get hungry as a seldom published author/poet/lyricist, so quit pedaling words and just enjoy the writing process. The bullshit ‘process’ of submitting is submission.



I hear what you’re saying, and…SMH
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
My *Basketball* goes through —   R S = 2 G M c 2

*StarfishY* ~~~*Fishing*~~~*FishB*~~~*Beach*~~~*Swimming*~~~*Sailing*~~~*TrophyG* *Stop* *Fork* ————————- .

How I see myself create…in the zone
Curry Flurry:

Writing

The beautiful mess made:
I had a lover's quarrel with the world - Robert Frost

         |
I'm sorry you got caught in the middle. - me

Neurodivergent poet

 
"Note: Poetry: life’s little interruptions amassing int..."
 

Best Poetry Collection Been more than I could imagine or expect here.
Why Mail It In? In Latin

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


And other people’s (reviewers) words…Review of "The Absence of Wavelength"
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*

 
Published four times with one a literary journal, including… *PointRight*   "The Tender Core (Sedona)
I don’t submit—too much work with ADHD, OCD, low vision in condensate in mental prison of failing memory. I’ve seen a lot of smoldering and snow. Cynicism bred, work hard at openness and consideration.

Merit Badge in Taboo Words
[Click For More Info]

Brian,

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

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

Rachel Merit Badge in Poetry
[Click For More Info]

    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

 
18+ Comment: Love my process constructing and sharing visions in words collected (fuck limitations).

I'm Godzilla
August 28, 2006 this blog opened

BOOK
SuperNova Afterglow  (18+)
All that remains: in afterlife as 'mainstream' blogger, with what little I know. 20k views
#1300042 by ~ Brian K Compton ~


No specific aim going forward (2014)

 
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* *FacePalm* Now: I was such a whore.
 



             



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 #lyrics #music #video #YouTube #awardwinning

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

The Best Poetry Collection on Writing.Com

Sig for nominees
May 13, 2023 at 5:37am
May 13, 2023 at 5:37am
#1049549
Apparently
I was a little Dickens
according to one of the church ladies.
A boy, wire the wrong way?
My mom wasn't having it.
Learned what reading the riot act
was all about, eventually.
The woman who 'was for everyone'
set the moral edge I followed,
too literally. A life of adjustments
would follow. A bit like her,
I wear a smile like a frown.
Passion like hers, an obsession
to create, she wielded a shuttle
to tat a 15 square foot display
of the Last Supper
that now sits atop grandmother-
in-law's old China cabinet,
greeting through a bay window,
if a rising sun should appear,
peak through the guarding crabs
stationed outside my house.
It helps me remember why I write
and how surprised she was to see
the slew of teenage manifestos
compiling, provoking her to ask
'Where do all these words come from?'
The apple doesn't fall far,
perhaps in a different form, because
she didn't understand why I needed to write --
to make sense of a world that confused me.
I was 'different' and handled as such.
Maybe, pity and sympathy replaced love,
but not from her. But, she wouldn't
treat me like I was broken, and I
didn't know the difference, except
I was embarrassed and afraid to reveal
I was confused. But words, showy,
rich, technical words that I should not
have dabbled in, helped me learn.
So, when I have time to think
and remember the woman who received
wildflowers and water in her good glasses
or gave my art and words passing glances
I'm happy to share memories of her
and woman devoted and undeterred.
In a nursing home, her fingers frozen,
her tongue long since Parkinson's
no longer engaged, spat out food
from a spoon I employed one day.
I worried she forget me, who I was.
My wife played the hall piano,
as I tried to engage, but leaned too hard
on the exit door and an alarm engaged.
Flustered, nurses arrived, I survived
and then heard a low, familiar growl
from a rising head in her wheelchair,
"Brrr-iiiiii-aaaaa-nnnn," sounded
a silly scolding, her humor in tact.
My mom was alive inside a slump torso
and could still see me, feel me and know
I'm still her little man. And it wouldn't be long
before the day she passed. Her eulogy
I was tasked to write, I read. I feel tears,
emotions and an uncommon strength
loaned, flow through me that day.
My brothers wept, hugged me
for a woman memorialized right.
It would take more than two weeks
of nights, before the dreams of her
began to fade. She talked to me,
walked with me, resurrected like
some Jesus from a tomb, sharp
wit and words, full of life like
a whistling bird on the old porch
of my old home and the sun so bright
made me realize I need not fright
I have her with me, day and night
the woman who taught me right.
She let me know passion like ours
will serve somehow one day, even if
to console through another to kin
that her life was not a waste, purposed
to give love and comfort to any
who came her way. I hope, I will
relocate that glow that last time
I felt her dream presence, and
pay it forward it some meaningful way.


5.13.23


© Copyright 2024 ~ Brian K Compton ~ (UN: ripglaedr3 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
~ Brian K Compton ~ has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and its syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.

Printed from https://shop.writing.com/main/profile/blog/ripglaedr3/day/5-13-2023