The Absence of Wavelength

Fractal Friction Afire

I hear you listening.
Silence has sound.
Scientifically proven,
but already knew —
experienced
the likes of shadows
with veils, behind scenery,
disapproving, yet revealing
value of some kind
lay hidden beneath
throbbing. Pulsating.

Reminding, a tiny red engine
can howl, startle
even the largest black holes —
warn, get the fuck back,
shut the hell up,
so black cedes
to impenetrable light.

Melt, god damn it!
Or, suck on nothing
and starve in your own
disquieted, severed earth.

I brought warmth, fought
a rejecting fire, now merge-bound
to a pen’s fractal friction aflame.
Your shame is not mine to own.


Whoops. ( was here before latest, major addition to end, likely to be revised to get sound expression about silence and how hot rages a disquieted person to erupt when shackled to vague, public opinion, without one soul to clue another in what it is about projected worth versus the value you strongly assert. In fact, I need more horror vacui, molecules branch out within where I find my truest nature. I’m building as the growing atom that binds others when that time comes, whether it tears ears off or attuned as sweetest harmony. These feelings harnessed bring indicate another emergence forthcoming — swear it will tsunami sized compared to that last tidal wave.)


12.19.23
A momentary lapse.
Back to meds and your ‘usual’ programming.
5.18.24
No lapse. Not an aberration. It’s no more side-stepping. Demons can deter, delay, reroute. I do not aim at anyone or anything specifically. With the actual help I’ve received in this overstayed dormancy a controlled force aims at society, apathy, arrogant indifference, dystopian ideals in play, to energize the unenlightened to organize and shove the forces back to find safe harbor within and in shared beliefs we can overcome mere obstacles that are molehills.

In short: I want to kick ass wherever I go, whatever I do. I’m busting down doors. Not going around them. No score to settle, just mt world to take back from manipulators, blackmailers (if I had shame), and the complacent mindless told what to root for rather than discover causes of their own.

First, uphold writers who get it, acknowledge talent when they see it, acknowledge and credit them, guiding them on a journey to self-fulfillment while still keeping the carny-games in play. I’ll not kick anything over, though tempted. No head butting, though I will bust down the doors that ignore writers with true passion, whether you agree with their views or messages.

Tear off your hoods, if you want. I’m here and have always been open to fair questions and criticisms before whatever whispered rumors go around in these segregated ranks. This is not a mission for me alone. This is not something that a Judas can walk into fracture whatever values formed. This is about unifying voices that can be just one part of WDC, to counter with that underworld it’s becoming synonymous with, obviously relied upon. Let that be. Bring more to the table to quash critics to overinflated value so this place self-sustains without unfair questions of … integrity?

You divide within…not a good look. Talk out of both sides of your mouth…people catch on. Passive aggressively make adjustment to the canaries that sing…feed the songbird spirit true love of its passion, not its message. Then, tout inclusivity, especially for the core, but also the components that can draw new writers, readers and interest from the world.

Now, you’ve got an up and coming coder in the midst. Fresh blood, regal lineage. Rewrite code and get a modern look. No easy task, I’m sure. If you only have so much resources, server support to work with, understandable. If not, go back to partnering and tutoring new members to acquaint them quick to the best parts of WDC, so they can integrate quicker, more satisfyingly. Help them learn rules, how to post and review with info not about content but what they can do with tools to make it better. Make contests easier, fewer reviews. Poetry, subjective. Fiction, consult Max Griffin, otherwise, subjective. The smarter the identified judges, the better the results? Now I’m grasping.

I’m tired now. Back to me.

My wife watches all this lay out…one finger on tablet. This is passion (value it?) from true blindness, and also, tangled neuro-network constantly creating, editing, framing, re-editing, creating more, never-ending. And I’d still be reviewing…and then family, and now, Spring, renewal. I’m determined a book will come out in June or July to celebrate my brother’s life. And with it, a reminder to find a better purpose for mine before curtain completely comes down. No editor. No one I rely on.

Edit later
Apologies if anyone feels targeted. I believe in the value of truth than employing BS. Constructive is the aim.