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 |    10k views, 2x BestPoetryCollection. A nothing from nowhere cast words to a world wide wind |
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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  . 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.  You suffer, but you suffer brilliantly. Wow, what a great writer.  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!  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 ▼ |
I’ve Strayed/When You Tire Don’t know what normal is in your world duplicated tried but it’s all a lie and you hate me for my charade wanting to belong when we like the same song but I just go on deep in the night fighting for some right I’m deep in this fog in a forest four counties long further from you so my voice is no good though I sing to someone just like me each day, each night why they fright to extend a hand I do not know but if found, I’ll hold on make sure we’re never cold or alone maybe, I’ve strayed so far from you because we walk in opposite directions beneath one moon, one sun, one song eternal — that I wrote all the words wrong rearranged, so you’d know there’s something about me that you won’t see undiscovered in every dawn you yawn yet, we hum away to that very same song I’ve noticed I’ve strayed from you accept what lonely is accept that forests and nights guided by one moon I won’t fright and when the sun comes I’ll help someone else be strong help write the lyrics wrong I’ve strayed from your normal yet, between us who’s the one that fears? when the dawn? When you tire of that song? 11.7.23 51 lines, hardly epic I might have written to a different song that invaded my head long after this video died down. Speak right into the clown’s head. Maybe, they‘ll get the order right. Choke on dry chicken without Sprite but seltzer to wash down this life. I’m pretty sure the song in my head was “I’m bad news”. Did I blog that yet? |
You know this is just another pawn I’ve played Even no response reveals each position — the incipient voids. Tried to teach you errors in your ways … Silence … absence of sound proven to be heard. I place another beat down felt a heart echo pleasant sadness that you can no longer come around All you deploy takes effort to lack All I lay on the board emulated strategy I don’t care if you move toward or away — you decide where the Queen is at and who is pawn today Does an absent heart regret, lay down or stay, move, play? Disinterest instills foreplay of red and black game In my infinite space nothingness travels Air molecules fill an inner ear Another heart unraveled today… 11.4.23 I’m always thinking, but not acting, six moves at a time, producing six new avenues each…computation that takes time. I learn to rest one hemisphere at a time, so there’s no lag. https://www.thenationalnews.com/world/2023/07/10/absence-of-sound-scientists-fin... Tag! Somber is one of my happiest moods. I’ll look at this someday and wonder… I’m not not listening. |
| I can assure you anything I do was preceded by some provocation when stripped the right to … That went nowhere. You don’t have to like me Or pity Know what…? Just keep doing what you’re doing. I’ll just keep doing… this. It’s artless when it gets to this Some-thing… robs mind soul unity within unity without starved Drops the knife Not the write tool. Right? |
| Wing-clipped (Without Context) Here’s to: all the energy, vitriol, indifference, sanction, silent demonstration that fills your lungs like the black balloon, weight one small bird inhales, exhausts with its cryptic coos... Shall I never write poetry again? Wing-clipped & burdened under a white cape. Buzzing shears the head of hope I’ll ever be beautiful again. Winter death dreams not of eternal Spring, silenced, sputtering, inhaling morbid dust. Mourning nests in eaves, stiff pine, bushes with dandruff. Within, all aspiration chases them through wild Summer grasses past to get to this Fall, to fall and fall, fall, fall…with no arms to receive — me — fleeting, particulate white, scattered, slowly painting my green home going down under brown. 10.29.23 11.1.23 edits to make connection to me, though not original intent Bookmark a life this late, risk sleep without knowing if I’ll wake to realize the chased happy ending? I’m saying, I’ll die without truly immersing in this life I’ve wasted. Also, as ash, like white, I become snow. Babble-add… Thought for story: a piece of ash of an incinerated body becomes a magical element when collected by a child who likely has a shard of a human-alien bone. Disembodied, it becomes a voice in his room, mis-associated with a ghost, that helps him cope with life, find purpose, hope, how to deal. It helps solve difficult problems. I’d place that particle in some kind of school experimental like a particle accelerator. When not charged, it’s silent…until it’s truth revealed. I’d mark it dark, real but with hope for the future, to teach people how to treat one another with respect, and pay attention to what’s really important…love, community, unity, compassion, caring, and impartiality…work on. |
| Criminal Thoughts Why write poetry? because I’m a criminal who took your thoughts, ran deep into the night, blind like a fool worrying, wondering if I’ll get caught returning them better than before. If caught, I’ll have 29 beautiful lies. Regardless, I’m prosecuted. Yet, time served dreaming you alive in my world. It is the act of imagining what you think of me that drove me to steal away to shaded park benches, hidden, ancient library stairwells, to the sea that heaves dead scrolls at me, or in my childhood tree, an oak (sorry, just a maple), to find you there, a soul like me longing for a friend. We run carefree, fast as wind, quick hounds on monarches’ tails — snatch at slimy frogs, standing, rolling, on mossy logs, feet bare, fearless. And, when I have one! the lights come on and you’re not there. I slip green reptiles and dead butterflies in your trousers hung over the ready chair. My stealth could seem your enemy if spied in your room where I steal your sheep each night. My heart affrights, runs ahead out the portal, down long neighborhood blocks, ducks behind white hemlock when headlights catch up, veer around another corner, steer off, and relief. I’m free! to be alone in my own story. I skip the longest strides, hop toward the bleary moon staring down. Not a single star. Nothing in reach. By three a.m., exhaust; close the laptop. Like jelly slide to sandwich in thin sheets to conjure a story like memory. Eyes tight, the dream I plead please come true is of me and you in June. We hold hands. Sorry, if mine are clammy. 10.31.23 53 lines That’s how much I love, how I need a true friend. Grammar check tomorrow |
| I have a recliner I can’t eat in. I have a bed I can’t eat in. I have a bathtub I can’t eat in. Because, I won’t clean. Sorry for the mess. It’s slothsome ignorance not self-aggrandizing arrogance. People who have met me should know me by now without having to repeatedly explain myself. I struggle to consider others inside my own struggle to get outside of the storm that rages within, close the door behind me, to sit in my recliner, to lay in my bed, or soothe in the bathing bubbles. Like a neon sign: No snacks where you idle, nap or soak. Not a buffet. Starved for the littlest luxury. Dirty, tired, bored. Still, won’t go outside to play. 10.29.23 You hear me. So, there’s that. Don’t be so literal. |
| Me, before every poem I post…nipple bracket left, font, colon, times, nipple bracket right, nipple bracket left, size, colon, four, nipple bracket right, paste, title entry, chose view setting, save, hope internet works, post. Do I share? Today? Coffee then write another, offline. Don’t want to lose precious words that never pay anything while collecting my self-worth. My flesh for a machine made of human flesh, deceitful, manipulative, incentivized black souls who feign friendship and sever, sever, sever…sounds a machine makes in its systemic purpose. Sorry I couldn’t stoop low enough to feed myself, but I did come up with this arrangement of words. Here’s to all the energy, vitriol, indifference, sanction, demonstration, that fills your lungs like the black balloon, so you can feel the weight of one small bird. Shall I never write poetry again? Wing-clipped & and burdened under a white cape. Buzzing shears the head of hope I’ll ever be beautiful again. Winter death dreams not of eternal Spring, silenced, sputtering, inhaling morbid dust, strapped in leather, collecting all aspiration of chasing them through the wild grasses of Summers past to get to Fall, get to fall, fall, fall, fall…no arms to receive fleeting, particled white slowly painting my green home going down. Let this be the last one. 10.29.23 Bookmark a life this late, risk sleep without knowing if I’ll wake to realize the chased, happy ending? I prefer silence AND stinging words. You-just-can’t-stare-at-me directly in the face with those tanks…at your ‘little man’, two arms weighted by shopping bags. Go ahead. What do I car-ry? It’s collapsible. If released, immeasurable. What did you bring besides metal mud-packed, tread propelled by factory machines, sheathed projectiles that never deploy; silenced by rust, daisies in your turrets, gritty orange streaks have run down the flat green camouflage? Buffalo stance. There’s nothing inside, not even Oz. Be Real? It’s not rejection I mind, but the lack of a sense that I’m part of a community. We decry government for bureaucracy, to self-audit; but the components that you rely on, that you build upon, can not feed you their flesh and bone without TRUE renewal. I’ve tested your flawed systems, and…black smog. You should have inhaled some. Sorry. Cryptic. Isn’t that what poets do? How can you know what I mean, if I don’t come correct, if you are not a poet, too? Another morning wasted in blog in this way, hiding the little gems, because what you want is my unquestioned fervor and a few bucks. I could spend so much more, but have learned how false some people really are, can’t get one sense as arrogant, indifferent, narcissistic and poorly incentivized bottom feeders, how really incorrect and lacking in morals each of you are. Poke. Poke. Poke. Poke. Bruise bitches. Bruise in those domes. So dumb. So, so dumb. You really don’t know what you are. No faces. Smiles are emojis. Poet pretenders with fake, fat community recognition. No value, zero to me, when you show how you truly are, without having to resurrect S.G. propped up like a stuffed Stalin. This ain’t no revolution, baby. Bullshevik |
| I’ve done this/these moments, in five different poems. Never all in one… Winter Light by Luke Johnson Let’s say you watch your father heave & sputter & froth as air has left his lungs leaving him still & small. Let’s say despite your sister’s call home your wife’s call home your children calling out for you you’ve come to a bench by a boarded-up gas station to light a smoke & stare across a shady brook toward mountains placard in snow. Let’s say a mother swallow slaps a passing truck & flips across the sleeted street landing alone in the gutter. That as she fights you scan her eyes & for a moment find yourself inside your father’s childhood home where winter light leans upon a covered piano powders an empty gun then moves along the wooden floor to fill a box of moths. You place your lips upon the swallow’s beak to blow. Watch its pebbled plume bloat like a black balloon. & remember how you’d run the grove without your shoes to climb the leaning oak & listen for the egrets’ wings in search of fields with water. It was simpler then. Fire. Snow. Flood. Sky. Hours falling like flowers. Your mother in her lavender slip looking for wild honey & both your sisters’ parted mouths longing for the rain. https://barrenmagazine.com/winter-light/ I had to ask myself, outlining questions I had, before tackling this poem to realize what I had witnessed in Winter Light… What has the poet done here setting scene to introduce memories and to speak to existentialism? Winter Light is a story, is a vignette with vignettes. What are these poetic devices that make this poem charming, and what does it say about the narrator and the repeated ‘let’s say’? What’s up with the ampersands? In a critique, introduce by answering all questions with consideration of what’s been witnessed, and break this poem down for people to realize what can be realized, both from the speaker’s POV, but as poets, to consider before they approach and employ words to produce yet another poem. What I came up with… The poem "Winter Light" by Luke Johnson sets a scene that introduces memories and touches upon existentialism. It uses various poetic devices to create its charm. The poem is written in a narrative style, inviting readers to witness a moment in the speaker's life. It's important to analyze the poem's content and form to understand its depth and meaning. The poem begins by asking the reader to imagine watching the speaker's father in a state of distress, emphasizing the helplessness and vulnerability of the human condition. The imagery of the father heaving and sputtering, with the air leaving his lungs, conveys a sense of mortality and the transient nature of life. This introduction immediately engages the reader's emotions and sets the tone for the poem. The repetition of "Let's say" is a stylistic choice that adds an element of uncertainty and imagination to the narrative. It suggests that the events described may not be literal but are more like possibilities or reflections. This technique prompts readers to consider different interpretations of the events presented, enhancing the depth of the poem. The use of ampersands (&) throughout the poem creates a sense of brevity and immediacy. It's a way of connecting ideas and images without fully spelling them out, giving the poem a more fragmented and contemplative quality. The ampersands serve as a way to link various moments and emotions in the poem, reinforcing the idea of memory and the interconnectedness of past and present experiences. As for existentialism, the poem explores themes of existential reflection and the human search for meaning. The speaker's contemplation of the father's mortality, the swallow's fate, and childhood memories all contribute to an existential undercurrent. The idea of finding oneself "inside your father’s childhood home" suggests a connection between generations and the way memories and experiences are passed down. In terms of poetic devices, the poem employs vivid imagery, metaphor, and symbolism. Winter light is used to symbolize both the harshness of reality and the beauty of memory. The image of the swallow morphing into a "black balloon" symbolizes transformation and loss. The memory of running barefoot through the grove and listening for the egrets' wings represents a simpler and more innocent past, contrasting with the complexities of the present. In conclusion, "Winter Light" is a poignant and introspective poem that engages with themes of memory, mortality, and existential contemplation. Its use of repetition, imagery, and ampersands creates a distinctive and emotionally resonant narrative. The poem encourages readers to reflect on their own memories and the human experience. It's a reminder for poets to consider the power of ambiguity and imagination in their work, as well as the ability to convey deep emotions through concise and vivid language. 10.29.23 Four Walls (Context) Here’s to all the energy, vitriol, indifference, sanction, demonstration that fills your lungs like the black balloon, so you can feel the weight of one small bird. Shall I never write poetry again? Wing-clipped & and burdened under a white cape. Buzzing shears the head of hope I’ll ever be beautiful again. Winter death dreams not of eternal Spring, silenced, sputtering, inhaling morbid dust, strapped in leather, collecting all aspiration of chasing them through the wild grasses of Summers past to get to Fall, get to fall, fall, fall, fall…no arms to receive fleeting particle white, slowly painting my green home going down. Let this be the last one. 10.29.23 Bookmark a life this late, risk sleep without knowing if I’ll wake to realize the chased happy ending? |
| They see you shoving me around. They also see me get up from the ground. In front of the children? Are you mad? You have your therapist to employ but it’s me on your couch. Concern so sweet and yet fake, But doing their job. Everything you bestowed was supposed to be a gift? With all the pearls a groundling less than court jester. I need not your wealth. Lend me a hand up from my seats. Take pride in the fact you cede one diamond pressured by your ways, changed rules in your playground. But what price do you pay? There is a healthy way to deal with anger. It’s not through shunning, hating, gaslighting that is the path to least resistance. It’s not sugary words so seldom delivered, too hard to swallow. I feel they’ve worn themselves out. *Squints* but can’t see you. Are you real? How many ghosts linger in these halls? And where have the halos gone? Yes, I’ve got better things to do. God says I need to help you find the right way. Get a bigger kid it still ends the same. Takes less energy to show us that smile. But, if you can’t, I worry who’s the one really picking themself up from the ground. I’ll be around. 10.25.23 I get dirty, don’t like myself there. When I have ‘real’ friends who don’t stab me like some Caesar, I can be who I intend. Hey Judas, why did you kiss? I am the betrayed. Are you confused how this all began, continued to this day? How are the Site Jabber Reviews coming? Decide 4.7 was enough?? Poor Google, Twitter and more, total revs easily surpassed by you. Yelp! |
| My oft repeated chorus (Soundgarden): 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 How does it get more impactful than this? Rest in peace Chris Cornell. ----------------------------------------- Broken People I don’t know your fallen angels. I don’t know those who mourn. I wish that I could commiserate without feeling forlorn. Broken people have wings. Broken people can fly. But, we drown in our sorrow. We are afraid to even try. We’re focused too much on pity. We focus too much on the dead. Why can’t people lend sympathy, leaving emotional homeless unfed? I envision your shadows. I have lingered in your shade. I don’t know why I am here and why I am buried with your spade. It’s through charity we find folks who struggle just like us, who are the same kind, who need redemption and trust. We can be here for the living before they suffocate underground. People can love people with differences all around. Lay down your weapons, with their stained bayonets. Extend a tender hand because I haven’t met you yet. 10.24.23 28 lines 4.23.24 formatting and one adjective added We are all stones, either above or below; some shining brilliantly for show while the rest of us know we have worth, too. But it’s really not about that. Is it? Do we want to be on the surface? How much pressure can a diamond take? I’ll be in my bedrock until the earthquake.  |
| When I was (redacted) years old, I had a favorite (redacted) who (redacted) In an old (redacted)(redacted)(redacted) I liked best. It wasn’t very long later, I learned of (redacted). And I guess I miss (redacted)and the times we (Redacted)(redacted), and (redacted). I know we are supposed to share these very personal experiences with (Redacted) people to earn a prize for contest, because it helps us open up and tell about (redacted), or (redacted), but I realized I really don’t know anyone, not even (redacted) who I miss and can confess is dead and I had nothing to do with it because I was just a (redacted). I’ve revealed enough of my life. It’s all right there for consumption. I’ve tried not to consider that (Redacted)(redacted)(redacted) could be going on (redacted), so I kept to myself, but to be human we each need interaction. Yet, to be told (redacted) years ago I’ve had decisions to make. Never tell anyone about (redacted), (Redacted), or (redacted) because (Redacted) cannot be trusted. They have (redacted)(redacted) and you have to beware of (redacted). I miss that person integral to my life. I really could have chosen mother, but I’ve spilt plenty of beans there. They know your (redacted) and your (redacted) abd they behave like (Redacted)(redacted)(redacted) people. Choose your adjectives wisely. Also there’s an old saying my father said. 10.23.23 And it can’t be fiction. My memory is fiction, mis-remember, completely forget. I don’t make passwords from anything personal, or that will come up when gee, I could win a prize if I act the biggest boob bawling about someone who did blah-blah, I forget. It’s not that they weren’t important. Cherish privately, with family, with trusted ones. If you’re all alone…you’re screwed? I’m working on being unwanted and then maybe can write some stuff about me and fake cry. Save your pity for the dead. Ooh, that got ug-gly. Oh, well. I might enter it, parade it around, after revisions, of course. Knock-knock. Is this thing on? Where’d you go, polysci. Not my friend? You created me. I’m not like this. I just thought that boomerang would hit you all in the head by now. So what’s my end game with Kåre Enga in Montana  if I’m a monster? He’s honest, needs attention. You pretend that’s what you do, and now with your phony PR/psychologist BECAUSE OF MISTAKES FROM YOUR PAST ARROGANCE. Own it. Wasn’t supposed be all caps, blind, forget…the PR. And you’re fucking with people. I’ve been here too long, looked for your wounded to care for. Here’s another poke. Yeah, it’s the internet. Shady is okay. I can’t shadow your shade? Haven’t I mirrored enough of your shame? Do you really have no faces? I’ve seen you on Zoom, which was killed. I miss the scripted conversations in scroll to model WDC desired behavior. I copied and pasted the last one from Storm Machine. worse in old days. Now, bots and zombies. Dead. You’re having trouble? Hmm. |
| Machines can warm you, but do not hug. Definitely, don’t inhale their toxic exhaust. You can model their behavior. Don’t be robotic. Machines want your data, never ever input Something about through put blah blah 10.23.23 Everywhere I look, little dystopias, chewing on the brains of my spouse, my two kids, co-workers, more. Num, num. give us more. Sad robot. |
| Let’s square off You go first Use your words Call me on the phone with three of your friends Corner me and shame me places I live And I’ll respond, “I’m sorry. Do I know you?” With concern, “I’m worried for you. I sense your hands are clenched?” Sit down with me. Let’s talk it out. What’s bothering you?” My version of civility, when I live as public as a frog. Don’t need to pace it off. You have some notions. Let me fill in the blanks for you, so you’ll see why I’ve been poking you. If you don’t dialogue, I have to wonder if you own the guilt and shame. Why can’t you just say something, rather than emote through actions, but no words? I heard it for 17 years, as each faceless one retreated. Some sort of coalition I had sought inclusion. I have regrets, but no forum to speak them. My accusers went to the grave one by one, replaced, superseded one who erred early on, tried contrition, offer a hand, understand the systemic nature of this, an environment that must sustain. Is it not going well? Could it be you are angry at something else. Look. It took me a long time as a whipping boy to get a taste of silence not lashes. Slow as one with no social functions, learned through negation and how to model reaction. But lose myself, dignity, identity? What’s the cause? Secretive. Uh-huh. And I’ve done you wrong, somehow by playing silly games rather than eyes on my own prize when I realize what you’ve taken from me. And if I don’t like it? I’ll sit here and enjoy tea. Repaint your faces, speak falsely. I don’t care. I came to help. I deserve what I get for blind trust. So, square off, talk or back the fuck off. Because, I’ve only just begun learning your game. I model behavior, good and bad. Thanks for the inspiration, I’ll not own your shame. Happy to be out of whatever this is. Not trying to get in the way. I’ve erred somehow, but get off my dick and I’ll stop standing on your porch looking through windows, wonder when you’ll come out. I’m not in hiding. You are. Step out, speak. I’ll listen, I’ll add contrition, if your argument is fair. Some of you have something at stake, won’t speak. I feel you out best. The rest, arrogant indifference. It’s okay. I’ll absolve you all. I said, I don’t care. But, you really need to grow up. School yard stuff. I hate to think how your motivations have hurt others seeking refuge in a false hostel. 10.23.23 I know you read my private stuff. This - is - me - poking - you Take the masks off. You’re afraid. |
| I tossed the red ball on the tide; joy envisioned how excited it jittered on small white caps — smooth-riding shallow gloss brown glass — flow departing with a warm ‘here you go’, and rejoined. Except, loss felt alone at our beach. Love was a game of keep away every time I neared. A tongue stuck out while you sneered. I had to make my own games, own rules, stayed on shores of time. You hid amid sunbathers, swimmers, trusted lifeguards — only your lovely voice played amid saintly clouds. My skin warms by charm of a sun now leaving. My game clutched at a salt sea scene heaving. This isolated divergence leaves me somber for you ~ and the only game ~ you ever knew. Coda I own the red ball — not you. And don’t be afraid to lose like I’ve lost — because I had to. 10.14.23 12.9.23 edit for stronger sensory/imagry/clarity of message. 37 lines free erse Formerly titled: The Only Game Submitted to Shadows & Light 11-2023  ![Merit Badge in Shadows and Light
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Brian,
Congratulations for winning 3rd Place in [Link To Item #shadows] with your fantastic poem, [Link to Book Entry #1057417].
Rachel](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/group-Shadows_and_Light-1936078_14.gif) Great source of musical inspiration with truth and grace. |
| …the strangest, most wonderful Each memory merged a whirlpool, swirling. Submerged snapshots’ expansion dissipatings dim-bled beneath, before resurfacing reborn, gasping. | Time-collapsed-vision, (Image of bicycle pump/respirator/ambu-bag) reawakened scrambled recollective through the thick portal. | Quantum strings plucked, produce pleasing sound, amplify by vibrating vision. | Overlapping assortment of forgotten photos, filaments forever fast flipping failings upon ponderous projections of past, present and predictable, changeable outcomes flowering a fading verdant scene’s exfoliation. | Purged promises bloom inside hollow words to rake piled collectives to curbs. | wind — space — time — relapse | how long was that? Eyes shutter, collapse in moments foggily framed — delay — delay, repeat — repeat, re-emerge awake. Fumble and struggle to straighten from saddled weight sunken in the green recliner outpost, rake after a warm cup and something to eat. ~  ~I had the strangest, most wonderful…deja vu | / _ 10.14.23 Might still be working on; I might still be incepting. coherence fills gaps of flimsy truths of time witnessed/unprocessed, lying on the surface of cluttered memory, acting out hope-fueled fantasy inside carefully hidden but revealed dreams in dramatized seasonal sequences (virtually and viscerally re-enacted) but fall short like this sentence. Like this sentence? Deja vu acts as a second chance you only had in the first place if you can recall future memory. It’s a brain hiccup, dude. You’re fooling yourself to believe this…now…or anything will ever matter. It’s the icicle stabbing that melts over and over again in your… Heart? …ass. When you wake, you’ll read this again, as if for the first time. Dude, stop lifting your brain! You’ll hurt your… medulla oblongata? …neck When will I merge two virtual realities without skidding over the surface of time and snap something other than a bunch of random, grainy shots? Feel as worthless as I do…in this theatre? Def not you…it’s me? If roles reversed…nah, math never changes. Don’t even reach for that sliding door. We’re trapped in here together… until…. and I know a sentence fragment and a sentence don’t need a semi-colon, but have you ever fused conversational tone with dramatic narrative to adhere fractured, schizoid voices into one consciousness? Do you hear yourself and other’s reactions before you unhinge your jaw to utter? Think about what you’re gonna say before you speak. Thanks, dad. (One of the many in a cast of characters that shoved themselves up inside this jug. Before I realized I didn’t have to, it was a turnstile. You want to be a piece of the collective consciousness that becomes my brain’s tumor I now aggressively cut and paste into viewable formats. Go on, Charlie Kaufman. Try to beat my metta mind melds. I think an edit with fresh eyes will be in order after two hours of my back into it…the giant green cradle. There are spaces between spaces undiscovered, the incipient void…my horror vaccui…its Wikipedia article since removed is irony, is how I view this ongoing experience I’ll call experimental after it all meets the trash. Another acceptable poem introduction: Truth is fleeting. Catch it while it falls. | | Nope. Try again.| |  Close. Nice try. Keep at it.Purpose is found, as meaning is lost. |
| it’s the other reality on the other side tonight no one warned me I could be an implement ignorant, unaware robot taught torment in its gears they oil and rub as I move safely into your neighborhood at night, striding streets at what you see out dusty windows as foolish, arrogant pride. gleam in street lamps is a byproduct of ignorant joy discovering space, empty but for their machine gobbling gone all your scenery did you know rain and inactivity Can cause a corrosive rust? I’m thinking my creators gave up, Constructing a new model to gas and wind up you look in your homes I look under this hood no place for either, restricted from roaming to a vacant lot the dock by the pond the open field, chill dewed as I make my way somewhere no place is true home robots neither sleep or dream never need a master I follow the horizon non-stop wave and smile, can’t slow as if I have somewhere to go Oz? a fairy tale place before I burn down with sunset? Hello, I am Mech, a human machination programmed to adapt into your civilization. Error codes I cannot resolve keep repeating. Nothing left but abort, self-destruct, another year grinding, recharging a batter depleted. they say the sun is friend I can only go out at night 10.10.23 10.17.23 |
| life support unplugged and dying, yet still somehow, free ironic i'm dying in room with a clear pane facing east, sleeping past sunrise please don't shine in my eyes night is enough to help me remember visions of her ghost regret doesn't flow, now I know I never had a hope, deluded seeking the west window in dreams night after night, spirit flows down the hall, doors slam to the annex, not allowed down the stairs all alone but green recliner outpost strapped to incindiary device you think I care? I noticed that every night I flow to you dark hell, deflecting demon lover faceless, can feel judgmental glare you think I should care idyllic I'm dying in a clear room with no pain without facing fires of the past shine your force into the hot shades night is enough to help me remember she is my ghost, not yours. I'll never regret for having grown I had hope and delusion, misguided chasing a horizon to senectitude even after glint particles depart down these halls for so long, light shines on the flourescent marks to avenues leading only to you to the green recliner outpost where I could blow, but still live need I care the unmaterialized trapped in night chambers alone fires that sap can't claims a soul devoid, yet capable of a greater love and you know, I might just care about something, about this life, about myself who is rising up against, well, your machine, better than a one horse-power engine, I'll admit but on what fuel do you feed? nitrous, baby! nitrous, baby! vitriol and love can coalesce in one savaged red organ bleeding having been shown all the paths by what you have not shown me... 10.10.23 I've rambled long enough ▼ looks back up. what did I just write? Something you'll forget later. Yeah, that's right. I love reading that guy. I just wish he wasn't so cryptic, and yet... |
| annually we check ourselves not because we want to, but because we see a world change out whatever window that begs please notice, or don't leaves on breeze-strings, know not what they do -- play like children as the one child now living in the hollow, stubborn trunk, escaping with heat sent with hope, dreams from root dark -- sapped by sky, channeled to an ever-collecting sun seems eternal, you know? our existence is all of time, the only remaining here on the grass, flowing, dancing begging a soul, rake it, move it all to a cement curb the trucks come while you sleep is this all life will be? all i am is all i ever will be? tapped, fall into that winter slumber ignorantly reawaken with the dull, ice-thaw spring. 10.10.23 3 minute write 15 plus minute edit (still not sure) where the font stops, so do I then, it starts up again same as always ▼ meh, doesn't truly translate to the tempted |
Who needs to rewatch 1988’s Career Opportunities with Mr. Kitty video mashups like this? I could write a poem, beginning Ice Breaking Skates Jennifer Connelly ‘n Mr. Kitty he needs to be taller than her not movie star good looks, but how do you get a girl like that? he’s not hot in pursuit, doesn’t hide those charming character flaws. did I just see a blush with her smile? when we run away from something hopefully, run into the accepting arms of the right someone she carries him, so you think (describe her, describe him) (what we’re reminded of) (why we relate) why we hunker down in chair craw crane neck up, visual stairs climb established forty-wide scene winds overpriced fare cradled between legs and she’s not there, but up there the vision, the dream. you, attired with tired eyes like Frank Whaley. 10.9.23 YadaNada dated but fresh |
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— 21
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![Merit Badge in Shadows & Light II
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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 
![Merit Badge in Contests
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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)
![Merit Badge in WDC Media Prompt
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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)
![Merit Badge in Good Things Take Time
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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)
![Merit Badge in Gay Lesbian
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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
![Merit Badge in Quill Award
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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)
![Merit Badge in Quotation Inspiration
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Congratulations on winning 1st Place in the September 2022 round of [Link To Item #quotation] !](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/WDC-Quotation_Inspiration.gif)
![Merit Badge in Artistic
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Congratulations on winning day 6 of The Daily Poem Sept 2022!](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/genre-Artistic-125.gif)
![Merit Badge in Problem Solving
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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)
![Merit Badge in Inspiring Love For Poetry
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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)
![Merit Badge in Action Adventure
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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)
![Merit Badge in Bard's Hall Blogging Merit Badge
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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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Congratulations for winning 1st Place during the April 2022 round of [Link To Item #2268646] !](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/group-G_Specials-2271325_14.gif)
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Congratulations on your 1st Place win in the April 2022 Round of Chapter One! Great entry! *^*Smile*^*](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/group-Chapter_1-2251918_14.gif)
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Congratulations to our 1st Runner Up of [Link To Item #2254385] Round6.](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/general-Accuracy.gif)
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Congrats Team Pedantic Poets Platoon on winning [Link To Item #1803384] during WDC's 21st Birthday Festivities!! Well done!](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/group-30DBC_Winner-2064535_14.gif)
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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.
Keep on being inspired! *^*Bigsmile*^*](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/Kudos-Every_Moment_Matters.gif)
![Merit Badge in Brilliant
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CONGRATULATIONS on [Link To Item #1145690] winning a place in "Honorable Mentions" in [Link To Item #2254385]](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/Kudos-Brilliant.gif)
Thank you for sharing it! It's genius.
