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 |   All that remains: in afterlife as 'mainstream' blogger, with what little I know. 20k views |
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Obshchak Some torn to the ground Some burn to the ground Others removed brick by brick Redesign for the times When the lease comes up Or just fold up When you have a bad day and need a reason... Formerly: New Zenith To Hell…(all started with arc as writer here from the trials of Rising Stars to Preferred Author to WDC Quills Best Poetry Collection... "Whoever fights monsters should see to it…he does not become a monster.” - Some guy, I guess. Look it up? I’ve been to the abyss and back. Not so bad. The loneliest happy person you'd ever meet, when not the saddest person who needs to be alone. In an ever-changing world, we need to handle topics at the ready. If you roll over and give in to the narrative without lending a voice, might as well hand over your civil liberties. Voices could connect to true conscience and spirit for honest and open discourse. Why feel so redacted? Unify on issues or don't but put drama aside. Open minds require complete objectivity. Or, agree to disagree and have a beer. Just writing what I feel without the narrative-altering mind f---ing with my head. [MY Chorus] In your house, I long to be Room by room, patiently I'll wait for you there, like a stone I'll wait for you there, alone - Chris Cornell, RIP Some other stuff ▼ My recent poetry:
Sometimes epiphanies about my insights on writing and life and what goes on... Blah, blah, blah ▼ ![Merit Badge in Rare
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I like your work!](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/general-Rare.gif) Thank you WakeUpAndLive️~Happiness  for honoring me with your kind words!Read here some old blog entries...  2018 Highlights ▼ More... 2018: The Quiet Ones ▼  Brian K Compton notes an echo~  |
“Hope” is the thing with feathers - That perches in the soul - And sings the tune without the words - And never stops - at all - And sweetest - in the Gale - is heard - And sore must be the storm - That could abash the little Bird That kept so many warm - I’ve heard it in the chillest land - And on the strangest Sea - Yet - never - in Extremity, It asked a crumb - of me. EMILY DICKINSON Source: The Poems of Emily Dickinson Edited by R. W. Franklin (Harvard University Press, 1999){/times} |
| A wise friend recently imparted some logic that I now pause to remember, when needed: Memories are often flawed, but they do help keep us going during difficult times. To separate fact from fiction, one may never be sure where the truth lies. I have so many fond memories that I look back on whistfully. Perhaps, kind acts that nourished this soul fade from faulty memory. I hold on to moments and reconstruct the associated feelings. Living a lie? Blissful ignorance? What else do I have to hold on to but to think she could have loved me? More than a generation later, we still don't know. I just want to keep these memories alive to fool me to my grave. Perhaps, my life is perpetually in crisis, because the projections in my head feel like they're on a non-stop loop. |
| Surrounding Myself Instead of surrounding myself with others who could lift me up, encourage me, I've surrounded myself with me. Everyone is at arm's length in my personal and internet life. I'll laugh and joke, but won't open up about my personal goals and dreams. So, I create a false persona to insulate myself from prying eyes, surrounded by walls of faceless names and one-dimensional sorts who are only good enough for a few moments discussion of the weather. I met someone beautiful who I could get to know on a deeper, more personal level and let them slip through my fingers because I let myself get in the way. I desire companionship on the most unaffected, unconditional level to purge these demons that tear apart the rooms inside. The daily damage makes it more difficult to rise and search for the sun out my window. I am only compelled by commitment to family. Nothing left for myself but regret that I don't just walk out that door and journey to look for me. I'm candid now. Fifteen minutes later and I might find distraction in a repetitive video game, latest Netflix or Hulu series, or reveries of a boy that dreamed a much better life for the man I am. I regret that I never approached you, reached for your hand and begged your eyes to look deep inside where I hide something beautiful that doesn't dare to come out without your skillful, nourishing light. I'll flail some more in this darkness hoping I'll find you without effort. God, I don't want any more rejection. The little boy has had enough from the man. Quiet, seek softness, while time wrinkles any hope for a future now becoming past. My midpoint, January, 2014. Sorry, for being obtuse. I'm slipping away again. 15 minutes...up. |
| It's not like the old days anymore. Not like we can meet for lunch at the Szechuan place on Third Street, where you educated me on Asian cuisine. And, not far from the University where we spent most of our hours either in class or working at the public radio and television studios, keeping in touch through the campus phone system. It seemed like not a day would go by without a word for one another. And then you found somebody to "date." And when he would travel for his job, which was frequent, then we found time for each other again. When he was around, I was out of sight. But, one day I failed and it all came apart. I needed help and you brought him along to rescue me. And I did not offer my thanks. The words got stuck in my throat. He pointed it out to you, as you said. And I realized I was a threat, in his eyes. So you were upset and I stayed away. Eventually we became friends again. But it was never the same. And then I had to move away and then you had to move away and we grew farther and further apart. I sent the last unresponded letters. I sent the last unresponded emails. I saw something in you. You left me hanging. For years I have not been able to put together the puzzle of the last time we were together and I thought you had extended your hand touching mine on your daybed on accident. But now I wonder, was there a purpose? You did not let me know if you were still in a relationship. I sensed something in you I hadn't seen since the first time I thought there was an attraction and you managed to confuse me. So I did not respond. And now I have regrets to this day that I did not find out. Over 20 years later, I found you and contacted you. And from the emails it seems like you're still the girl I used to know. You are married now. I am married now. And yet, the thing dogs me still, stuck in my brain. It should be harmless to ask. I cannot, should not, open that door, even though I stare at it every day wondering what lies beyond, wondering what I left inside. Just know, whenever I dreamed of you, I felt I could be or do anything I wanted. Without you, I wonder if I'll ever realize my potential. Goodbye again, LuAnne Brian Written long ago, though I could not share with you, he said wistfully, alone to the sky...
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| Been taking personality tests at Psychcentral.com to learn if suspected traits exist and not liking some results. Self diagnosis is cheap, painful and just as subjective, but not overseen by a paid professional who can drag out sessions for years, feeling no wiser for the experience. I'm just going to tweet insights, adding whatever passes for wisdom here and in Notebook, as the psyche turns over each stone obsessively, finding no discernible clue to explain this vain existence. |
"Giving In"  [E]Grounded upon a cement path leaves lie like words scrambled and scattered by the wind You chase them down the walk but their wonder is swept away before the eager can grab hold to find no meaning Too far away for the mind to reach your venture ends with a visit to a vacant bench And a leaf floats down beside you All your life spent chasing obstacles on unseen strings and the prize you win is for giving in. |
| Fall is one of my favorite seasons that inspire my writing: "A Better Love Tomorrow" [E] written 24 years agoA blissful sky bleeds dry its color. Wet but crisp leaves lie scattered to rot and brown, in the fading light, cloy at the soggy ground. You reach for my hand. Still cold, we huddle closer. We walk with no destination toward some horizon, sending away our sun. You nuzzle my neck, touch my hair and whisper, "I love you dear." I know you are near, but it seems so far away. There was a time when I wanted you close, tighter, inside me whole; but time washes away the memory these aged eyes foggily see. The woman who buttons my coat, scratches my tender back and looks forlornly into my eyes. Must see something I don’t, something that I won’t. The sun will rise again, three quarters of the way home. Tomorrow, I will love better. These leaves tug at my shoes, as the sky washes to black. More features from Autumn coming |
| Something I would like to expand upon one day. Want to share this for now: What is it about life that makes us want to live? Is it the color and shape of things, the beauty of nature, the food that we crave to eat? Is it the love of a good mate, to share some dark secret? Is it the desire to own expensive, beautiful things? What is it about life that makes us want to live? Are we vexed by some puzzle we must solve before going to our grave? Have we not learned from others the thirst unquenched on dying lips? Might we wield social power that make others envious, weak in their knees to be in our presence? What is about life that makes us want to live? Are you waiting for an answer? Unsure what mystery could there possibly be yet unknown that could make life worth living? Innocence. We yearn to be young again, to be tempted by all that we desire, and fantasy. Perhaps, we could, just read. There are millions of lives in books yet undiscovered with many truths yet uncovered that could shape our minds with true vision and purpose. What is it about life that fuels our desire to live: fiction. |
| I've been quiet. Good for me. Find me on twitter for latest. |
| The most discriminating person one could expect to have in their life is a mother-in-law. I have had my differences with my wife's mom, a retired elementary school teacher. But she sees right through me sometimes and never ceases to flatter me, especially on the occasion of Father's Day. Written in a card I received: "Dear Brian, I want to wish you a very happy Father's Day! You have such a wonderful family and we thank you for the wonderful Grandchildren you have given us. You do so many things with them that makes Alex's and Maddie's lives special. You especially make books come alive for them as you create so many characters in your reading. What a wonderful gift you have for this. It's given them wonderful ability to become characters as well in reading and drama. All of your playing with them has given them so many wonderful memories to treasure throughout their lives. You have been such a good example to them for enjoying life and the love you have for them has shown through in all you do for them. May God continue to guide you, walk beside you and bless you always." I cannot accept too much credit because I am paying it forward from a 'wonderful' teacher in my mother who shared her love of books and life with me. Hearing these words helps me warmly remember a woman who will walk beside me throughout life. |
| "There has been much emphasis on the audacity of hope, and hope as the energizer of dreams and visions, the warm glow, the bright ray. ... Perhaps it is time to also reflect on the atrocity of hope. I have come to see it as wasteful and unproductive. ... It intervenes in the process of reckoning with the present with clarity about things as they are; it presents itself as a companion of the "miracle," where we expect outcomes without our play/agency. It keeps us wedded to our particular hypothesis. It asks of us to put our faith in specific possibilities regardless of probability." Very long, sad, but illuminating story: http://www.cnn.com/2014/06/14/world/asia/malaysia-airlines-families-narendran/in... |
"Ol' 55" Well my time went so quickly, I went lickety-splickly out to my old '55 As I drove away slowly, feeling so holy, God knows, I was feeling alive. Now the sun's coming up, I'm riding with Lady Luck, freeway cars and trucks, Stars beginning to fade, and I lead the parade Just a-wishing I'd stayed a little longer, Oh, Lord, let me tell you that the feeling's getting stronger. And it's six in the morning, gave me no warning; I had to be on my way. Well there's trucks all a-passing me, and the lights are all flashing, I'm on my way home from your place. And now the sun's coming up, I'm riding with Lady Luck, freeway cars and trucks, Stars beginning to fade, and I lead the parade Just a-wishing I'd stayed a little longer, Oh, Lord, let me tell you that the feeling's getting stronger. And my time went so quickly, I went lickety-splickly out to my old '55 As I pulled away slowly, feeling so holy, God knows, I was feeling alive. Now the sun's coming up, I'm riding with Lady Luck, Freeway cars and trucks, freeway cars and trucks, freeway cars and trucks... http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/tomwaits/ol55.html |
Everything she knows about truth, about beauty: a severed flower from its stem, the frog she captured from the pond, the baby bird that fell from its nest, trapped by her ever loving arms; the blossom wilts in ample water, the neglected frog withers alone, spared not by her kiss, while the little robin learns to fly, because mommy and daddy know what's best. |
| Whenever I get a bump in traffic, I know I've had something featured in a newsletter. After a little investigation, I found my poem "Hidden Flower" [E] was featured here: http://www.writing.com/main/newsletters/action/archives/id/6313-Religion-vs-Spir... |
Just got the email today that the site will be shutting down at the end of the year: May 14, 2014 You are receiving this email because you have been identified as either an active or inactive Helium Publishing community member. NOTICE: The Helium Publishing 360 sites will be available on a read-only basis effective May 21, 2014 and will continue to be available on a read-only basis until December 15, 2014. During this period, if you have an existing Account, you will continue to have access to your Account and accrue potential earnings, but you will not be able to add more content to the Helium Publishing 360 sites or create a new Account. If you have attained the Minimum Payout Threshold, which currently is set at $25.00, we strongly encourage you to withdraw your earnings because the Helium Publishing 360 sites will terminate on 12/15/14 and you will no longer have access to your Account. Dear Helium Community, After eight years and well over one million articles, we regret to announce that Helium Publishing will be closing. Here are the key dates that impact you: May 21, 2014 - the Helium Publishing 360 sites will become "read only" and no article changes or revisions will be possible - no new work can be completed or created in the Helium Network dashboard - new member registration for Helium Publishing 360 sites will cease December 15, 2014 - advertising revenue share will cease - you will no longer be able to access your Account - all 27 of the Helium Publishing 360 sites will shut down and your articles will not be available via the microsites - access to the Helium Network dashboard and your ability to retrieve your Helium Publishing articles, message others, and request payment will be terminated What about my earnings? Your Account will be accessible until December 15, 2014 so that you can view and (if applicable) request a final payout. Your tax ID and a valid PayPal account are required to process and receive payment. Details about accrual and earnings can be found in the FAQs, available in Announcements and in the Helium discussion forum. What about my open assignments? The workflow portion of the Helium Network will be disabled on May 21, 2014, and you will not be able to work on any assignments. What happens to my articles? You may download your work by following the instructions available in Announcements and in the Helium discussion forum. What if I have questions? You'll be able to reach us through the Helium HelpDesk and Helium discussion forums. In addition, an FAQ is available in the discussion forum and in the Helium Network dashboard. For many of you, Helium Publishing has been more than a place to hone your writing skills; it's been a place to call home, a community to connect with friends and like-minded creatives. Thank you for making Helium a nurturing space for new and emerging writers. It's been an amazing and gratifying journey, and we're grateful you were part of it all. Good luck in your future writing endeavors. Very sincerely, The Helium Publishing Team |
| Got side-swiped last week in a pick-up game. Five days later, I could barely walk. Got no sympathy at work. Decided to be a warrior, rather than point out my inability to sit or contort my torso in any way. Wasn't pleased by the spot check report of my work from five days ago. My wife works with a neurologist who suggested double the daily anti-inflammatories. Figured it was back related, even though it was my hip that got clipped. The pain eventually travelled from my right quad to hamstring and back of knee before I started feeling numbness in my foot during work Tuesday. Within 12 hours, the Naproxen had relieved nearly all my pain. I could walk up and down steps with more than one leg's power. I could stand from a sitting position without effort. And, I got a good night's rest. Now that 24 hours have passed, I'm tempted to quit this remedy because I feel fine and want to see if I can stay off medicine. I can start up again if there is a flare up. I want to get back to basketball. Not patient enough to put in core work right now. That means I'll be injured again, within the month. I lack discipline, but try to make up for it with clueless desire. |
| I will say things in writing to a person that I would not say to someone in person. Does this make me a coward or does corresponding through social media allow us greater access to expression? Now, I will say there are limitations. Inflections, gestures, tone and some of the give and take in certain scenarios are missing. There are certain intimacies that cannot be duplicated in words. The beauty of it for a writer is to try. Can we find the right words to move another? There is power in these conveyances, if we can strike a chord with a reader. I long for those internet embraces. I will be the first to admit I have shortcomings, but am learning every day the impact my words have had on others. I know humility and I know love. It is a bittersweet mix. |
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![Merit Badge in Second Time Around Contest
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Congratulations on winning the Grand Overall Prize in [Link To Item #2164876] with your beautiful poem, [Link to Book Entry #933358]. This poem really moved me. Great writing!
Rachel *^*Heartv*^*](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/group-Second_Time_Around_Contest-2164963_14.gif)
In the Falkland Islands, internet is very limited and very expensive. The place I'm currently staying only lets me use it in the middle of the night, so when I have to get up at 3 am to check my texts (no cell service to the US here unless I'm on the internet) or WdC, I don't do nearly as much as I used to. 
I currently have 2 very long emails I still need to get to from several days ago. Anyway, I miss everyone, but I also miss sleep, so there's that. 
Have you spoken to the doctor about your vision problems lately? I know there are special glasses for it because I have to wear them to read much ever since the brain injury. It's part of why I now only listen to audiobooks instead of reading regular books. It took 8 years for anyone to diagnose it because I have a brain injury and while one might think it would be obvious to me that I see double, it wasn't. Partly, my brain does a fair job of compensating. But also, partly, you use your brain to realize and understand that the 2 images you constantly see are double vision and something you should mention to your eye doctor. Since my brain was damaged, even basic things like that can escape me. 
I never once thought to mention it, even with annual eye exams in the Army and an exam every 2 years at the VA. Though, in my defense, since it happens in something like 41% of people with a brain injury, it should have been discovered by an eye doctor much sooner. 
I know doing that activity is a CRAP TON of work. But you made a difference in lives, not just his, but for all the people he's reviewed since. 
Well done! 
