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(117)
Rated: 18+ · Book · Spiritual · #1149750
10k views, 2x BestPoetryCollection. A nothing from nowhere cast words to a world wide wind
I’m disabled by more than blindness.

Writing: Like one of those adventure games where you go off questing in different directions but you don’t advance in life. Pretty medallions sought for words/my soul, slow burnt. Full of misdirects, right back at the start, but still quest with thirst.

Life of turmoil produces stuff like this. Not going to call it beautiful agony…it gets a bit uglier. Minced words too pungent. If they take time to notice, must be doing something right.

scripturam in hoc non mutamus, quia stultus es et differentiam nescies.

(hic)

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

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

Neurodivergent poet seeks love without that fart in the room between us. Honesty without mincing words has come with a price for those juggling the hot my takes on what’s ‘truth’ (here’s some oven mitts). Best to stay clear of those surrounded by moat rules.

Real dialogue is accepted.

Wasn’t as open at first about recent diagnosis on spectrum with ADHD (complicated by PTSD, life of brain traumas). Been suggested by doctors of late I might want another brain scan (since 12/4/17…blogged).

This poet’s words collect, arrange on a kaleidoscope spectrum. The experience of discovery through writing is the truest reward that has allowed me to grow and learn who/what I am — what other people get naturally, immediately, while I stomp around in it.

Been blessed, but pushing it — envelope, world and all inhabitants away. Push buttons, find boundaries to trip traps. No clue why cat curiosity, living in your dark. (Bored, perhaps?)

Now and then, push dirt out of this hole; someone/thing/entity might envision me how I need to be viewed (if I knew what that was). Cryptic, yes. Try living in my dark, find comfort amid strange, virtual, wonderful walls that tower above, tempt me to scale.

Been more than I could imagine or expect here. But, achievements aren’t going on a LinkedIn wall *Think*. I dig deeper than I should, often without forethought. Aimless words, brave or veiled cowardice, flinchingly flung, inadvertently hit targets? Get a ‘back off’ shoulder shot when asking your motivations here. Not fair?

No prize to eye; not incentivized. Dealt the worst two cards before the flop, do best with what’s in hand.



My Pluggers:
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 "Poetic Referendum(s) On Life"
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 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.

*Toilet* *RibbonW* 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

 
Love my process constructing and sharing visions in words collected (no small task considering personal and physical limitations, see below).


August 28, 2006 this blog opened

BOOK
SuperNova Afterglow: End Of Days  (18+)
All that remains: here in my afterlife as a 'mainstream' blogger, with what little I know.
#1300042 by Brian K Cognitive Dissonance


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.
 


*Laugh*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.*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

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
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January 6, 2023 at 11:52pm
January 6, 2023 at 11:52pm
#1042762
Wait Until Whatever Tomorrow

There’s a book, a book, a book
I say, I dawdle, procrastinate over.
Now there’s four of them, or five?
Accumulating as poetry popcorn,
as sardines smelling cloistered hell
where words jumble, tumble
out the brain’s mouth into parlor,
or squalor. How shall I serve them all?
Wait.
What am I doing this for?
This self-collaboration in internet,
inherit incognito innuendo
indefinitely interlopes ignorantly
indefinite, infinite, and infernally.

I started all this for a reason.

Seasons change as my mind
goes a-wandering after lolly leaves
into snooker snow piles s-sliding
down,
free-form
spring-sprung, tousled tulips
serenading summer, seething-sensuous,
‘til tumbled, careless castoffs
over and over and over
mount mounds colorful, as I (should)
dive within. And, would you look?
A poem.

Do I really want to do this
again?
Wait until
tomorrow.



1.6.23

At this point, the gray matter pretty much doesn’t compel the machine anymore, but monkey that learned tasks by repetition until he couldn’t multi-task the Enguish langwage aneymore.

Haven’t completely lost…lost…lost… *looks around*

it
it was what I was going to…going to…goin…

Wrote in dark, without glasses, on tablet, no talk to text, as she snores and snorts bedside. *RollEyes*

I won’t link/share in your newsfeed. Don’t worry.

NOTE: at this point, felt an imposition by those wanted me to impose, heard me, talked over, ignored, and I backed away. Sensed the ‘where is he going’. There’s no explaining to gaslighting narcissists who want your soul like stuff from your pockets, act disgusted when you’ve been shaken upside down by your ankles, expecting your lunch money, at least. They are the new bully, who points at me, if I speak up, not PC, take my rights, boot stomp, cry for all the other red-headed banshees to herd up, buffalo stance, expect me to yelp, try harder, go away. Knives, arrows, bullets at your back, wouldn’t you want to silently, unnoticed, slink away from the purveyors of sunshine and candy? 💩 sorry, that was supposed to end with a period. I had mine. Theirs is ongoing …………….. has it been that long? *PointLeft*

Note add: 8.11.23 because I’m an idiot with my time. Nothing I write is preconceived, except for a notion, burgeoning words that sort and slot into sentences that seem worthy to further pursue, until cornered, no bombs to break me out of alphabet logjam.

Blah, blah, blah…fuck me, apparently. What are my sins? Can it be that bad?? Got in the way. Oh? A simple move, or play through with us would suffice. I’m on the ninth hole (beginning, middle, end, or restart…playing through a lightning storm with a reverend. And I was doing so good? Even the high and mighty can be full of themselves, but what am I? Not on the green.

Gawd, would I just shut up?! There wuz more alphabets piling up before the screen freeeezzz…*Bomb*
January 6, 2023 at 12:34pm
January 6, 2023 at 12:34pm
#1042740
sole thin

takes the road less traveled







alone







and it's worn down now







by just these two shoes






sole-thin tread it is



1.6.23


january
no boots for this

everywhere i go now they want a little piece of me. the more the better.
sorry if i don't have more to give. I look each in the eye with clear blues
so they might peer as deep as they should into the cavern of soul to see
what I spare. a room for the night, shirt from back, last buck in my wallet.
it's a game for them, see how much of me i give of myself, build margins higher
on their side. I see the dots of worn down nubs all around in the deficit.
red, redder. the low and lowered, when I stand up and choose to be blue.
Not red or black. Not on chessboard, or checkers, if you're not into that.
A pawn, maybe. But, I move circumspect of their instruction. they follow me.
don’t like I make my own game of them, these people of rules and order who
want to tell me where to go, where to yield and stand. My ears turn way down low,
they just follow, know, they can't be a father to this man. They killed him.
and i know.


just riffin' off this vibe
reinspect later.
January 4, 2023 at 5:37pm
January 4, 2023 at 5:37pm
#1042653
January 3, 2023 at 12:34pm
January 3, 2023 at 12:34pm
#1042596
Somewhere Sealed

I was sealed in, or
sealed out, when I sought a view of you
in your department —
a mannequin come to life
possessing all the qualities
I lacked:
festive clothing,
a smile.
         rosy cheeks I got
         passing that mound of flat, steel autos
         by the rails balancing each day
         enroute to winter habitué
to view you in the hallways at school.

a ghost could have learned your combination.
never neared that blue, iron door to try.
it was glass that separated us.
I, sealed in or
you sealed out, but then
you didn’t view me
as I didn’t have a smile
and bright apparel
like other torsos on display.

just window shopping anyway,
I tell myself,
whenever I’m sealed in,
or out,
in memory.

1.1.23

I wanted to be nostalgic about being alone when I was young and how comforted I could feel in certain settings, and it went another way, and just ran on.
December 30, 2022 at 11:08pm
December 30, 2022 at 11:08pm
#1042378
From “Weirdly Poetry” (yet to be published)

Easy On The Petals

She loves me
I love me
She loves me not
I love me not
She loves someone else
I’ll love myself
eventually
or not

Though I’m no prize
please take a chance on me
so I learn to love for two
me as well as you
buttercup

I’ll never tear petals again
because that’s childish
Love is a tender, fragrant flower,
imbued joy in small hands
before gleeful carnage.

My lips will wet your damage
already done, sealed
with these kisses
of what love…
what love.


12.30.22
12.31.22 last verse added

love damages, repairs
but not like new;
experienced
will hurt less or more
by love, or no love.

Better to have loved
and live nostalgically ever more?

I don’t know if I’ve loved but desired the salve of her bare skin on mine.
With passion, I think good enough. Yet, not my best. Yet to come?
December 29, 2022 at 8:36pm
December 29, 2022 at 8:36pm
#1042339
You fell from heaven like a feather.
I devilishly witnessed dainty descent,

tried to field you, whirring event,
elusive, before your rest, gentle
on the green mass.

What point of picking you up now,
unless breezes should stir,
send you heavenward?

In all your glory, twisting,
spinning, I’d try again,
calculate with more fervor.

Heaven loves a wild dreamer
chasing its cloud castoffs.


12.29.22

It started with initial notion, cultivated from there. Poem gave way to how we love chaste, available dreams that we win (men, I supposed).

Still considering
December 25, 2022 at 1:16am
December 25, 2022 at 1:16am
#1042127
like flitting words casually floating
through an electric fence.

some crackle.
some singe and simper.
some sail past
deconstructed without the rest,

and still floating, aiming,
seeking to find true meaning.

words informed
fasten like seat belts.

look out!
here we go again!!


12.24.22


December 24, 2022 at 1:18am
December 24, 2022 at 1:18am
#1042096
Chance favored me without preparation.

Trailed hazardous life stumbling
over serendipity
near the turbulent waters
lapping my ignorant shores
ready to consume a fool.

What were my odds?
the chance I'd survive ordinary existence
to reach its inevitable end
with fortuity?

Manifest destiny or fate
life seemed to be lived by accident.

Found love.
Periled lips still savor kismet.

Was it providence,
coincidence,
happenstance?

or did I just get away
with cheating life
because of dumb luck?



12.24.22
20 lines free verse

"Invalid Post"  
12.5.22 PPC Prompt: Luck

"Invalid Post"  
Kerf form


December 23, 2022 at 11:28am
December 23, 2022 at 11:28am
#1042067
thank you
for unnecessary commentary
in this shared theatre

I shouldn't push play
why don't I learn?
is a poet supposed to get to the point?


thank you for the unprovoked remarks
in the din I live in

Should've worn my headphones

Why don't I insulate?
is a poet supposed to self-edit?
for you?


you've been kind to give your opinion
in my shrinking domain,
a condition
where little space can be sought
to self-isolate

Where is the acceptance I yearn?
Is a soul supposed to dry its pen?

What am I living in
that walls don't echo my thoughts?

The vibrant messages could soothe
aching ears

Where am I living if
I cannot go from here
without you on my mind
vigorously absorbing all of my soul's light?


thank you for choosing me to hear you out

A chamber envelops my lungs,

heart pushed to the glass

How can I unpin and ask for my breath back?

Let a poet grip
foolishly again
his words flung to a non-dimensional wall
expanding to infinity

and all I’ll not capture


thank you.



12.23.22
12.26.22 added 3 end lines
4.9.23 added punctuation, more capitalization and last line.


it's about sharing music i love in shared amphitheater, and have to hear her say she doesn't like this song or that artist, or thinks the volume too loud or when will it end?

things like these attach to my heart, she severs with her blunt knives
December 20, 2022 at 9:31am
December 20, 2022 at 9:31am
#1041958
your mother had to knit you cool blue mittens
to hold my red hot heart
when we enmeshed in snow
melted and froze
into ice

spring did not thaw you
i was a puddle
cars drove through
sent skyward
blocked promise land
above heartless sun

a heavy rising

you were saved by my freezer
i can still open the door
gaze in that dark refrigerator
and wonder how long
you'll stay in tact
if i could hold you one more time

my mother didn't knit mittens for that


12.20.22
18 lines
December 16, 2022 at 4:40pm
December 16, 2022 at 4:40pm
#1041857
We would really like to know

If ever I'm perfect
they'll dismantle me
maybe, study me
but mostly, do away with me
We lost paradise once
Tirelessly, must settle for imperfection?

I hand her the correct change
she says perfect
I complete their application
submit, he looks it over
perfect
Making an appointment
I respond to need of contact info
Verbal utterance echoes on the line
perfect

You can't call me back
Unable to process my application
I passed counterfeit bills (coins I can't mint)

You don't know me
I could be the person trying to undo
all that is perfect, "functional"
within the frequencies, communes
of coexistence, governed society,
aiming with just one word —
perfect

Perfect? Do you hear yourself?
What's perfect about correct address?
You've never been here
I could live in squalor
police sirens blaring, cars jacked —
a militarized zone, mortar shells
perfect bullets rip past down my street
as I take the car out again

and it performs as it should
on journey to my next 'perfect'
when I stop (while it rolls independently)
to consider, then pat the fading dash
from my leather-creased, captain's chair
inside a rusty hull, bumper cracked
radio-sometimes-working, beaut of a machine
and say
'you're what's perfect'...

even though, you aren't.

If I don't appreciate all imperfection
and what functions, necessitating a weary life
keeping me going
up this hill we're on
before the six foot drop off
or crusher, then I must admit
between here and where eternity ends
I might make it to perfect...

Envisioning a white cloud
airily lifting me close enough to touch bluest heaven
and no one will see
I'd keep it to myself
between me and the Chevy
We'll both drive off that cliff
before we'll let anyone dissect us.

We are what we are and it ain't perfect

Okay, good, thank you, I have all that I need...
unless there's something more?


12.16.22
62 lines (free verse}

Best Long poem I've written in sometime, if ever.

a little, annoying word on the lips of many little minds, more functional than me.

and you know what else I don't care for? indifference.

3-Time WDC Quill Nominee: Best Poetry Collection...2020-22.

For quill 2021 winners
December 11, 2022 at 10:44am
December 11, 2022 at 10:44am
#1041682
don't want to be too
sing-songy

avoid the stunted syllables
grinding out

each unsubmitted manuscript
that light these pages
unseen by the main

don't want to be alone
pitchy singing

avoid the top of stunted chords
grinding melody

each retracted utterance
could light still hearts
unheard by that main

untested but willing
singing in rain showers
puddle splashing, hopping
over hearts inside windows
in my yellows like spring
sop-wet with the sky's tears
for a little man inside
unloved by her

who'll not be
if I don't get outside
a foggy dream
get seen, heard and loved.


12.11.22
December 5, 2022 at 6:16pm
December 5, 2022 at 6:16pm
#1041438

the flaw in our beauty

a broken heart holds together in its sand,
its ancestor
until that final heap topples a fractured vessel,
ice glass bleeding.
         tides try claim the mess,
                   wash remains to sea.
some pieces hunker in grit,
hold on, wear down.

you don't see,
unobserved from dark space
separating
a billion miles a second,
                    speeding away
           away
   away,

down to bottom of this shared ocean,
middle of our galaxy.
you didn't glimpse
while your heart was cracking,
too.

but I noticed,
and noticed
you didn't see
me.

we share sand –
blown, mysterious, special
fish bowl or flower vase people,
each of us
fragile.

not adjoining on shelf,
we'll not ocean together
at the same time,
aweigh on this life
forever and ever
and ever.

don't say amen.
i already hate me
for being impure.



12.5.22
12.7.22 some major edits

could suffice as lyrics; what chorus?

written to:


men have feelings
we're taught to access the part of our flawed DNA that doesn't allow us to show it, or
feel shame if we do

slightly altered version
December 3, 2022 at 2:47pm
December 3, 2022 at 2:47pm
#1041337
Decades long
I still cannot metabolize you
(It’s been) a lingering death
Memory is still here
(falsely) disguised
Nostalgia lingers in shadows
Dementia swallows
regurgitates in dreams
(Your face) the same
in hollows
(which eludes) my enzymes
consuming (my love)
of any other

Period…

The approximation of exclamation since I couldn’t form the proper interrogation to get to the end of our story…

Antacids aid in this digestion



12/3/22

Could title (Read Between The Lines) but that’s not the point.

You could say I’m weird again…but on closer inspection…

Maybe they should Quill ‘Poet Of The Year’
I would concisely conceal that tattoo somewhere on my body before doctors sever the afflicted appendage.

Simply: I’ve not been worthy of it, if not her
Travel back in time with me to win Her love?

When we know Who she is??

(What do you suppose antacids could be?) 🥃🥃🥃🥃🥃

December 2, 2022 at 6:36pm
December 2, 2022 at 6:36pm
#1041260
Subtitle:
I know why you’re alone, Brenna

Untested Conversation

It’s familiarity
familial
people they see daily
talk to

but not me

who sits in the corner
as would a lonely puppy
trying not give that impression
avoiding pity inside the distance

can be - engaging
enlightening
frightening

sees what conversation you prefer
rather not intervene
send to a rocky ledge
but would embrace you
against my field of abyss -

hold against this untested world -
kept from your known safety
from my discourse

sees eyes avert
empathizes with that discomfort
fragile soul
fleet animal
must forest within denizen’s kin

spares the approach
from a cur at your tables
spared from an observer who knows
fear and loneliness
and true survival
as one against the void
in a din

incipient space fissured wide open
closed
by a constant, linear soul


12.2.22

It’s not poetry you fear, but what weight words.
R-E-L-A-X

But, in other words: I get it. I can be too much.
A growing affliction with some unknown/undiagnosed social condition:disorder since I was 7, walking down a road in my pajamas because I thought my mom abandoned me in another state.

…now Brenna. A work friend of my wife (statement in 'work friend') who is 32, attractive, opines about not getting married, but will have a baby with or without a husband (and the three bedroom home), operates safely in her domain, her confines. I see, like me, she won't get out of her comfort zone because the unknown isn't easy to approach, as with that sound in the night behind the door in that horror movie called life. Brenna, poor, poor, girl. *sigh* I am safety? I have to wonder.


Now…this pompous announcement…

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

For quill 2021 winners

BOOK
Poetic Referendum(s) On Life  (18+)
10k views, 2x BestPoetryCollection. A nothing from nowhere cast words to a world wide wind
#1149750 by Brian K Cognitive Dissonance
December 2, 2022 at 4:02pm
December 2, 2022 at 4:02pm
#1041254
They floated me out
on dinghy
upon a tumultuous tide
rode
soft, swift, deft
atop highest wave
to the swell sucking
sweetly
down

I wanted to fly
looking on blue sky
Why a watery surface
with its unknown depth?

They sang to me from shore
too gently
Bird and bee dimensionally
sung
It hurt. Skirts flirt
motion from an ocean
for a willing, wanton clown

Will it come back around?

I needed oars to row
envisioning sought, brilliant horizon
Why does it escape day to day
unable to paddle
back
time?

No chorus, nor melody now
for an ostentatious fool

in his common vessel.



12.2.22


It needs work, but I’ll brave eyes upon it.
November 25, 2022 at 8:37am
November 25, 2022 at 8:37am
#1041012
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
away
before you can take me down
into that unknown


11.25.22
November 25, 2022 at 8:36am
November 25, 2022 at 8:36am
#1041011
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.
Bottle-nosed.

11.21.22
November 25, 2022 at 8:34am
November 25, 2022 at 8:34am
#1041010
Little Gourd

I witnessed the plumpest gourd blossom
on its vine --
yellow, flower-topped, sere soul embedded
beneath backyard pine.

It didn’t need much sunshine.
Withered, bloom tapered brown, it dropped
after sundown, when ripening stopped.

Not cold, inert, slow shriveling
during our dry days. Dark veggie
inspired so much hope in those rays.
Lone, bright bell, detached,

hard-melded a be-pricked surface.
Silent glossed by eventual frost,
my heart sank somewhere around midnight.

It wasn't better in sunlight. Fewer gourds
appear each year, for an ignorant farmer
who still cannot conceive how he erred.
How much more could I have cared?

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

How long am I to toil before hope runs out
for a little gourd to feed from that stem?



11.24.22
Reap what you sow
My toil with words bears hopeful fruit appreciating with time.
It's really about raising my kids.




For quill 2021 winners

BOOK
Poetic Referendum(s) On Life  (18+)
10k views, 2x BestPoetryCollection. A nothing from nowhere cast words to a world wide wind
#1149750 by Brian K Cognitive Dissonance
November 18, 2022 at 4:52pm
November 18, 2022 at 4:52pm
#1040807
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,
receding
past a naked maple clinging
to precarious, withered offspring,
iced

yellow-peaked
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


11.18.22

just looking out my window at something that I could take care of

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