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 No prize to eye; not incentivized. Dealt the worst two cards before the flop, do best with what’s in hand. My Pluggers: It’s like plugging myself, but using other people’s (reviewers) words…Review of "Poetic Referendum(s) On Life" Published four times with one a literary journal, including… BOOK No specific aim going forward (2014) ▼ What Was NEW Just trying to create a little buzz, not boost my ego. 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:
I had a lover's quarrel with the world - Robert Frost
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I'm sorry you got caught in the middle. - me
. 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?
You are an icon here.
You suffer, but you suffer brilliantly. Wow, what a great writer.
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. 
"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.
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 ▼ 
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 Compton 
Now: I was such a whor*. 
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.
Who am I, you ask? My mirror knows that question, repeated daily.
#amwriting #poetry #blog #contest #freeverse #award #bestpoetry #freyaridings #lyrics #music #video #YouTube
Is that you, Poo? 💩 Secret Back Door ▼
#1072169
| The Red Canyon Heat rises on a dust plain, distorts You offer a lotion-smoothed hand, place Your gate, still easy. I lack amble function. A moment arrives so perfect, I kiss you. You stand to refill our lemonade. With sunsets as red as wood-glow fire, No lust for dinner tonight, wrapped in You cradle a tender man, soothed. ----------- 6.5.24 Imagining that many years from now in dry heat of Arizona, I’ll put boots up, she’ll drop capri-wrapped sticks on top, to idle in our solitude. After all our years, having spoken all that need be said, transmissions eternally send between two sated hearts via the quieted souls. -------------------------------------------------------------For pozzy hearts Prompt: “They might have aged 50 years, but when they held (hands), those hands felt exactly like they did the first time.” A much different take on a previous poem, to bring it further forward and into a retired life. |
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