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Wednesday, Mar. 26, 2025

12:52am EDT

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33 Days Captive/SuperNova Afterglow

by Brian K Compton Day33 Captive

Rated: 18+ · Book · Writing · #1300042

All that remains: in afterlife as 'mainstream' blogger, with what little I know. 20k views

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"
I'm in love with carefully chosen words, arranged just so, audible, edible, to inhale. I attempt to post new poems and epiphanies daily with some links to what inspires.

I am legally blind with a rare, genetic form of glaucoma. I'm described as "end stage" after two successful surgeries, still subject to further vision loss. Cataracts complicating matters. Writing Can get strenuous but seldom deters what yearns to emerge, despite a documented history of depression and recently diagnosed ADHD and undefinable social disorders and/or PTSD. Ammunition, or blanks?

My recent poetry:

BOOK

The Absence of Wavelength and Sight

(18+)
A nothing from nowhere cast his words to a world wide wind, hindered by periphery.
#1149750 by Brian K Compton Day33 Captive

Sometimes epiphanies about my insights on writing and life and what goes on...

"Blah, blah, blah"
Making sense of life is maddening. Why do I need to know, when truth may not actually exist? Learning to accept would be a better pursuit? Flailing about in my own mediocrity, hoping to bust out.

I am visible. You can put a face with a name. I would like to see other writers, too. Fiction is what you write, not who you are.

Reinventing myself. I couldn't continue on the path I was on and needed a fresh start. This time around I want to put the focus on writing and the world outside of this community as it affects my life.

I realize now that I have been baring my chest a bit more, as when young. fake me much more boring and unliberated than the real me.

A world arriving as silent as that blossom in your garden that I told you about...

Merit Badge in Rare
[Click For More Info]

I like your work!

Thank you WakeUpAndLive

for honoring me with your kind words!

Read here some old blog entries...

2018 Highlights ▼

Brian K Compton Day33 Captive

"Invalid Entry"

A signature image for use by anyone nominated for a Quill in 2018

-- WINNER --

Auctions and Raffles (why we need them):
People who play with house money: They are shilling for the casino. A shill is a player who is bankrolled by the casino and whose objective is to encourage others to play. Oftentimes this is done at table games with no players as many players are hesitant to play at a ‘dead’ table or at a poker table with only a handful of players (a Texas hold-em table typically seats up to nine players; anything less that five is usually considered to be short-handed.)
Short answer, mostly relatable.

Show Recent Comments

10 Most Recent Blog Comments:

This comment is attached to a private entry, so it is not available.

Brian K Compton Day33 Captive

Mar 18, 2025 at 1:47am
In response to "My Restroom Attendant and Rooster"

Kåre เลียม Enga

Stop on by. I’ll give you one of ours.

This is Onyx. No one can have him.

He’s the guy that plays tag. He goes and hides where he thinks we can’t see him and calls out for someone to chase him.

He’s barely a cat.

1 Like

Kåre เลียม Enga

Mar 16, 2025 at 4:43pm
In response to "My Restroom Attendant and Rooster"

I wish I had a cat. I'm alone too much when I'm in Montana. I love saying hello to cats and dogs.

This comment is attached to a private entry, so it is not available.

Brian K Compton Day33 Captive

Oct 3, 2024 at 11:35pm
In response to "End Of A Poetry Era"

Elle

I love the language and introduction that lead to the reveal that reflects on it. It makes a statement familiar to how I feel when among all these new identities through appearance making statements that beg a punchline or observational humor. It reminds our black and white stereotypical generalizations of types of people we can slot and story award in our full up brains are teaching us to recalibrate, take an interest to these calling cards to possibly interesting personalities. Pro-flavor, but also subtle notes on what’s vintage and classic, tried and true.

Thanks for sharing! Keep this hot streak on a roll. There’s a whole evolutionary society to observe and interact with, to correlate with other’s befuddlement to ‘it’s about time’

Sleepy time! Squeezed this in before bed.

1 Like

Elle

Oct 2, 2024 at 11:07pm
In response to "End Of A Poetry Era"

I wrote one poem - "Compliments"

. First thing I've written in aaaaaaaages.

1 Like

Brian K Compton Day33 Captive

Sep 27, 2024 at 2:09am
In response to "End Of A Poetry Era"

Have you written lately? Hope you are well.

March 21, 2025 at 12:09am

#1085768

Sundowning

Sundowning

echoes linger, soft, low.
faces drift, softly go.
laughter ringing, sunset gleams.
fragile, memory of life’s dreams.

echoes soften, come, go.
these gentle breezes, soft, flow.
silence but them, risen ghosts.
can’t recall, and nothing to boast.

5.20.24
Quite literally.
Milk almost went in the bread drawer.
Also, salami.
Mm, sando?

Comment

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