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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~  |
| Happy Father's Day... Dodgeball was invented by dads frustrated with sons who couldn't catch. |
I don't want to be anything other than what I've been trying to be lately... 6.29.15 |
| I reread this today and asked myself why am I labeling them snowflakes? Description should be enough to give the reader a sense of what they're seeing without being told what it is. So I want to go do a rewrite and see if I can work with this more to give more character to the snowflakes without saying what they are. Although, the first line becomes sort of a throwaway. Have to seriously consider how I'm going to approach this without totally ripping apart the poem. Ride To School...A Poetic Moment Snowflakes from yesterday's flurries flock, skitter; vivacious, wild troops reforming, disbanding, rejoining in flowing concentric patterns away from me, faster than I dare drive, visor down, with the milky, orange lamp glaring, daring me, dimmed and sliced into spotty, pulsing rays by disrobed, unruly masts. As I navigate the obstacles to my visual delight, my co-pilot pleads not make a poem of this moment on his ride to school. |
| Writing lyrics again. Yearning to create music once more. I've always had this fire in me, just never found the right time to go after it. Maybe, I never will. Always looking for an encouraging word, another sign, until I have enough evidence. Always putting clues together, but everything remains a hypothesis for what I should do. Listening to Chris Cornell Sing Is it so hard to believe at 6 AM, sitting at your breakfast table? The coffee is cold like the words unsaid on your tongue, yet you can still dream. Is it so hard to feel when you're alone sitting in the dark? No desire for the radio bleeding? Yet, you can still dream. Close your eyes and see. Is it so hard to live? She's gone from here, but her scent will never leave -- her light, haunting eyes that once helped you believe. Yet, you can still dream, if you close your eyes and see... Of course, that is not the title...subtitle, maybe. Piecing together my feeling for music and pairing it with life to see if there is enough emotion to make sense of reality. Playing a game with words in my head instead of dealing. Wish I could write music. Writing lyrics to songs I loved brought me here. I'm masquerading as a poet. Music and singing have been my life long passion. I've only been able to share it through writing up until now. BONUS LYRICS just riding the train and jotting down words emerging from my head... Not Who I Was Meant To Be I am the man in the mirror, just not the man I see. They were successful in changing me But suddenly I see...and I can feel what's rising inside of me. If I put myself out there, maybe I'll find me. I will greet you with a smile, firm handshake, but immediately you see...and I can feel messages your eyes are sending me. This is not who I'm supposed to be. Caught in a game I wasn't meant to play. Meant for more than this, repulsed, I suddenly know...and I start to think I need to slay the emerging monster. It's not too late, while I still have breath. Dismantling the machine after I take care of myself, but immediately you know...and now realize this brain cannot be toyed with. This was not who I'm supposed to be, and it's going to get ugly if you don't acknowledge, back off, not who I was meant to be. Not going to edit that one just yet. Need a break to prep my brain for another trip to gym. Crank the Rage! |
| Ride To School...A Poetic Moment Snowflakes from yesterday's flurries flock, skitter; vivacious, wild troops reforming, disbanding, rejoining in flowing concentric patterns away from me, faster than I dare drive, visor down, with the milky, orange lamp glaring, daring me, dimmed and sliced into spotty, pulsing rays by disrobed, unruly masts. As I navigate the obstacles to my visual delight, my co-pilot pleads not make a poem of this moment on his ride to school. I started out wanting to comment on how snowflakes don't know their fate like happy children...seemed too depressing to go down that path. Just really fun to see them playing, waiting for more snowflakes to arrive to begin the winter season. Was playing with the words outloud in my truck when my son implored me to stop making up poems. I was just inspired by the moment, nature, that big, round sun that wanted to obscure my appreciation, though it was equally as beautiful. I could be a writer, I think. |
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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! 
