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 |    10k views, 2x BestPoetryCollection. A nothing from nowhere cast words to a world wide wind |
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Making sure everything goes down with a yank before someone has to sit where I've been at. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I had a lover's quarrel with the world - Robert Frost | I'm sorry you got caught in the middle. - me 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 ▼ |
My interest in math is from a purely actuarial perspective. What makes no sense is how words are valued -- too broadly interpreted by people not qualified to quantify. Poetry should be a stream of consciousness. Stay connected with the integral subject, theme, inspiration. The moment you stop, lay down the metaphorical pen, life moves forward without those thoughts yearning discovery in context and subtext. Each branch produces fruit. A dance with a caliopy of words that when stopped no longer produce music. If you try to pick up again, what beat, what rhythm? Can it be reproduced or seem futile effort, chasing ghosts of memories as fleeting as time escaping us. My brain is always processing and wants to spit out what it’s computing before the results are in. Poetry was made for me because I only manage hide behind expressions rather than tell you how I feel, fearing the pained expressions. I’m connected and wish for a circuit to complete with you, so words would more pleasingly form in this addled head. Saving people who don’t know they need saving is risky business. People draw conclusions without hard evidence - assumptions are circumstantial filler that support a theory or bias toward proving their end result. They are guessers, usually not high stakes. But it can lead to anything from character assassination to creating urban legend. It becomes misinformation. Our minds cannot sort something without putting a definitive label on it. More irresponsible is not to ask questions and/or covertly investigate (again) to support transparent hypotheses to justify our egos. |
| I know how villains are made Forged in the fires Of super hero rhetoric Twisted words In the mouths of the good Spoil a good season Unwatered, unattached To fertile earth, exposed To nature's harsh elements Deconstruct: You take all the beautiful words as if From my mouth Leave me nothing to speak Except echo your praises Leaves me hollow, you know? (Un)Related: Send Me Out For Ice Connected, feeling their love When they send you on your mission And you think it’s a quest But no one from your party comes As you further down the road Look back and see no one followed Not a vigilant eye as you further Away from the scene Like they sent you off for ice Worry When you get back The night over, Venue moved, Door shut It's a private engagement Do you ply that threshold? When you risk the fear Unwanted Reconstruct: Drink the Kool-Aid No one is getting killed We don’t want your entire savings Don’t complain if it’s bitter Spit it out Make your face For everyone else to see This is not your party and you can Leave Too acidic this punch Leaves a mouth dry what seems Lifelong In the corner you draw eyes Their stares bring memories of life escaped Returned Haunted by failures of the past Rub your tummy vigorously for all to see Hide secret shame with your integrity Lost What’s the cost of a little fuss? But that’s not where it ends It starts with their distrust Now you have to do something more to appease Would be gods, fake idolatry They want you to grovel handsomely Leave gifts at their transparent feet Ignored The party is a hollow feast for just a few At the table where offerings gather Black vultures guard them with hungry stares You don't dare Help yourself But you can never leave 🎵 |
| Recycling Propaganda And Myths of Self-Perception in an Ambition Driven World To whichever song moving me now… Yes, Katie floating plastic bags (garbage to you) are elegant, ethereal to the sore eye yearning for release send us upward to the benevolent sky dream in a tree stuck dare fly higher than hovering clouds but magnetic gravity is reality whenever eyes roam with thousands of light, plastic objects manipulated on unseen strings twirl a make-believe dance we're destined to fall to hard ground broken with man's machinations ready to bury dispose the extinguished dreaming no longer sorry, death had to be so cruel reformed optimist conformed realist living in the shadows of Joel/Jeff's realization, slapping Abed hard in the face, yet no awakening from this dream, reality. don't you become a part of the character you are will forever play because you are everyone's plastic bag? That's not how I saw that going... |
| Rodeo Star I’m a rodeo star Timeless Spurs retired I stride Impeccable blue jeans Contour bandy legs Sturdy, as if I Just dismounted My one ton bull I’ll tip my cap Blue eyes wink For the ladies’ Passing glances Thumb ensconced In small pocket As confident as bashful Just the right balance That kept me atop Untamed beasts I’m a rodeo star Forever Stirrups repurposed Tightly pressed cotton flannel Reveals nothing up my sleeves Hides a heart beneath Rippled-hard and scarred Tattoo-free flesh A heart beating So smooth Conceals its acceleration As the lovely passersby Linger too long To inhale naugahwde And a hint of cinnamon from toothpicks held In breast pocket Manners as plain As a gift of a flower Bowing to the maidens Who curtesy sweet |
| Didn't work out as a static...posting here: Dreams were disappearing clouds on a dry horizon Frigid The sand could not warm an empty heart Black Capri spandex seemed a poor choice She wished something would crystallize As she held his hard arm in her weak clasp Seagulls swooped, circled for their impromptu offering Scraps of leftovers good enough for white-winged rodents Her long hair fluttered out, wayward like kite tails Dark hazel-green eyes couldn’t make out the color of this horizon The sun faded fast and stars blurred Burgundy through empty glass held before bubbled vision She could never self-actualize Peaches’ one-take ‘F*ck The Pain Away’ played on the ride back Waves faded into rhythmic high-hat cymbals No cocker spaniel would wetly nuzzle her face tonight A calico licked rough paws until unconscious https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=zp3nURYsedg |
The New Nightmare When all the world hushed In your lavender room, Comfort, Little bean snuggled In lap quilt and capable arms Sheathed In green glider-rocker. Lullabies from CD Echo memories To the tiny, decelerating heart, Gripped no more By monsters That seemed all too real. Silent rhythm, We two swayed Sending me a-hum Employing those harmonies To create her new songs Long forgotten -- Until windows close To our tender past. Disinterest began as: Rejected rides on my back, Refused story recitations, Ignoring Voiced plush gesticulating Before a comic, sagging man. To warm your heart now, Permit: Innocent flesh pierced, Crop golden hair, Transition gender Hidden in restrictive garb (Something you're trying out, Or maybe other girls), Renaming yourself Camden -- Douse dreams Of daddy and daughter Running down a beach, Two kites. Now you insulate, Clutch phone, Blue illuminates The dull, pale face — Subterfuge in black. Consulting on social media These unusual, As confused, peers. The crib long repurposed -- Where I don't know. Books and CDs boxed -- I'm sure in attic. A cluttered room hides Our past, Like stuffies ushered out En masse that even mother Doesn't understand why I won't part with. I cannot caress Digital memories contained, What she refuses We shared In a green glider-rocker. "Camden (My Owner)" "Invalid Item" I'm supposed to have all the andwers, all she gets to do is question my authority. |
| Typos and all until I feel like editing this confession. Get your screen captures now. Should know by now rubbing stuff in my face empowers me. (Should subtitle 'How You Make Your Villains.') Concussed, head traumas, abused, bullied, ridiculed, beaten up to cite a few because I was different. Dad didn't understand me, mom pitied me, oldest brother tormented me, youngest constantly got me in trouble. I became defiant, never backed down; though I became shy and afraid of confronting issues. So, when I made mistakes, I lied and covered up. Few liked me because I started to hate myself because I couldn't connect with people on a human, emotional level. I spoke with little inflection, monotone to avoid being noticed. What made it more complex than easier was blossoming into an attractive young male. I masked fears and anxiety with false bravado and vanity. At least I learned to love myself by realizing what I could see in the mirror. By working my sculpted body into a coveted specimen. Unfortunately, that would be about all I had going for me from 18-26. Now,, I'm just a villain. It's the easiest personna to uphold. My family disrespects me. Won't accept excuses of lifelong trauma. I don't want to viewed with contempt, though. But, by getting everyone to hate or become indifferent towards me, I can be assured of outcomes. It's better than have people turn on me because they don't understand or see eye to eye and would rather demonize one who started out a sweet, innocent soul that became callous and hard so no one could penetrate his armor. No trust, prepared to circumvent any manipulator who comes my way. Tired of being a chump, left out, unworthy unless I decide -- be alone. I have no one to truly confide in. I just write to get it all. No pity please. There's only one person left on this planet who got me and she won't reciprocate my attempts at communication. Out ** Image ID #1177947 Unavailable **  ** Image ID #1278143 Unavailable ** |
| Now something by someone else: The Stones by Richard Shelton I love to go out on summer nights and watch the stones grow. I think they grow better here in the desert, where it is warm and dry, than almost anywhere. Or perhaps it is only that the young ones are more active here. Young stones tend to move about more than their elders consider good for them. Most young stones have a secret desire which their parents had before them but have forgotten ages ago. And because this desire involves water, it is never mentioned. The older stones disapprove of water and say, "Water is a gadfly who never stays in one place long enough to learn anything." But the young stones try to work themselves into a position, slowly and without their elders noticing it, in which a sizable stream of water during a summer storm might catch them broadside and unknowing, so to speak, push them along over a slope or down an arroyo. In spite of the danger this involves, they want to travel and see something of the world and settle in a new place, far from home, where they can raise their own dynasties, away from the domination of their parents. And although family ties are very strong among stones, many have succeeded; and they carry scars to prove to their children that they once went on a journey, helter-skelter and high water, and traveled perhaps fifteen feet, an incredible distance. As they grow older, they cease to brag about such clandestine adventures. It is true that old stones get to be very conservative. They consider all movement either dangerous or downright sinful. They remain comfortably where they are and often get fat. Fatness, as a matter of fact, is a mark of distinction. And on summer nights, after the young stones are asleep, the elders turn to a serious and frightening subject -- the moon. which is always spoken of in whispers. "see how it glows and whips across the sky, always changing its shape," one says. And another says, "Feel how it pulls at us, urging us to follow." And a third whispers, "It is a stone gone mad." http://www.hanksville.org/voyage/desert/Desert4.html My poetry tries to hint at underlying meaning, quite often. For some it's plain easy to interpret the symbolism. Others take the words at face value. Writing that is rich begs you go beneath the surface to explore, feel. |
| To the lying sacks of shit and those who would espouse their propaganda as justifiable rhetoric to enslave the good with guilt and shame — recompense for erring or not buying into the manipulative philosophies: The one thing that is true When I get hold of the bone I'll chew it Hard Until all the flavor has left Or Until another leg of something Is tossed I'm not too tired for treats But I'm not a dog And I know it So I'm very selective I've cultivated a taste For these castoffs In fact I know the remainders Are not what you require Are easily given To curs like me Draw me off the scent You called me bad dog Once to my face You called me 'dog' You make me sleep outside Not in your warm Cuddly house But Pet my head When I'm obedient Yet Seldom send me Chasing after a stick When I learned Fetch was your game To distract me And What have you got For all the years Of misdirecting me? First, I'm not a mutt Or somebody's pooch You dehumanizing piece of shit Who marginalizes and segregates Beautiful people from Your redeemed I will say You're not an ethnic cleanser Yet I stand about the bones Of the black and gray deceased Who silent suffered waiting For a bone That did not arrive. From the Unwritten Memoir: Allegorical Stories and Poems of A Naked Man (Already written but unassembled--every day of my life) I am sooooo Britta right now. Yeah, I get it means nothing. But, it could...mean...something-- |
| Grinding over pavement Man-made plastic wheels Evoke memories of reminders And those I fail Before me Garbage not curbed Before the snow I do not view From kitchen window (Oh, I know it arrived -- A bright blanket dimmed) Plaid autumn curtains drawn Because the leaves Did not fully fall Were not fully raked To street or a garden bed That never received new bulbs (dry, unpurposed husks) Frost was quick Unrepentive ground solid My mind would like to go elsewhere Or end Like this poem... ...but garbage doesn't move itself. Pencils down! Since Lost In Translation seems to relate to writing, this (and what does one thing have to do with the other? Just experience): Coinciding with preceeding private entry and proceeding blog post... "to understand this song, one should read the 17th century Dutch philosopher -Baruch Spinoza. In essence, Spinoza, although being a religious Jew, was effectively one of the first heralds of secular (dis-)believers in modern times. Nature is god, said Spinoza, and there is no transcendental one. More than this - there is nothing. Determinism governs the world and free will is an illusion. But to our limited mind, of course, it "feels" like we are free, but that's just out epidemiological limit. So, how can we know where leaves falling in the night are blowing? There is no way of knowing. Our lives appear to us an unfolding, open ended movie -- like a dream in the night, we can never know where we are going. Still, deep within us, we ask the question of the determinism we see around us - why the sea on the tide has no way of turning (e.g, choose its way). We feel we are free, but we see determinism surrounding us. We want the comfort of certainty and absolute knowledge, but also fear it since its consequence will surely mean we are no more then sophisticated automatons..." |
| Big picture. Small world. Coincide or co-exist? You might not follow, but use your imagination...plenty of that renewable resource: In this life, we are dealing with real mysteries. We are not trying to figure out if free will or atoms exist...science fiction to commoners without Einsteinian awakenings. We just want to know what to do with ourselves. It should not be to crush candy or be mesmerized by a YouTube video or some life changing meme...for the few minutes. Our time has been compartmentalized rather than compelled to linear wayward time travel. We are not meant to have an impact on this world. We are meant to be consumers of the giants who manage to take control of our world until we die. We cannot unify against the forces that compel us to do their bidding. We are ungrateful curs if we don't acclimate ourselves to the mental mantra meant to lead us into war or consumerism. As one cannot cram the whole world's existence (let alone entire universe) in one blog entry, I leave pinholes of light to allow your eye follow out and seek truth. Not wormholes and other dimensions that we cannot know exist. Yes, that sounds exciting but more than we have the ability to truly take on. We have to think of the immortal words of Prince, we 'just need to get through this thing called life.' And that's a mighty long time. For him 57 years? I'm 58 and feeling every bit as vulnerable to all that preys and the predators in wait. They will not allow free will, let alone dine too long on its buffet. After the hand slap, fingers point to the exit. I ignore them, move about the room. Still no freedom, plenty of escapes. I have been distracted too long. No nuggets, no kernels of truth. It might be right under our noses in a life full of misdirect. We are all too smart to be babies in diapers we can't change ourselves. We leave so much to others, it's a wonder how anything functions, still exists. Machines? Robot nannies? Big brother exists?? Whaaaat? We are on automatic pilot. We have become complacent. Our discourse over social media is hardly social and unacceptable in terms of dialoguing. It's a disconnect. When we want our news now, can we talk to the anchors live and set the stories straight? No. Information is a one way feeding tube. We are not so much lied to as we are denied the true headlines, the most important facts in these stories. We all die before full actualization. How do you think rumors got around about how Albert felt in his dying, yearning last moments? The story ends without us, begins anew with another innocent. 'A sucker born every minute.' Time will not stop in our lifetime. It renews with each purpose to deny us truth. What is real is income to pay for the things we are lead to believe we need and go to things we should not consort with. If the world had a garage sale, we'd line up to look. It would leave us going home empty handed. It has no bargains, nothing we want. We are fine with what we already have...and yet? What we don't know won't hurt us. I'd just like to meet our real parents...scarier than science fiction. --signed, anonymous From the soon to be unwritten memoir: Allegories and Fables Not Meant to Be Your Parables If there were any hint of truth, death. Just meanderings of person bored enough to attempt seek life outside this common utopian existence. |
| Even though I had to leave college in the spring of 1992 to have emergency surgery on my eye, my dad chastised me for dropping 60 cents in a vending machine for a soda. It was a turbulent time. I had a graduate course I was missing out on, a strained relationship with LuAnne (many poems were written) and was just starting a new job as a TV news producer in addition to working radio as on-air journalist. My boss made me bank a week worth of stories before I left so he could keep focusing on sales clients when not 'reading' news as news director. Dad had driven us to a Mayo. We had our own troubled dynamic because I was 'different' and didn't do things his way. He was piling a cache of money into bonds and CDs, spending pennies on day-old, dented, used or free remainders of the world. I was blowing what little I had 'like there was no tomorrow.' Our stay extended, he checked us out of a nice motel where I could recover after a near botched surgery and into a room in a woman's house where I shared a bed with a 60-year-old who bathed once a week. He brought in groceries, including a 12-pack of generic soda. It cost $2 -- cheaper than 20 cents can when I paid six dimes. His logic was flawed, though I didn't know it at the time. You should have what you want and it doesn't have to torpedo your budget...or life. My son is going to college now and got the idea he doesn't have to work because he's going three years instead of four. Simple logic says yes that is cheaper. But, there are more complex algorithms lying beneath this labyrinth of educational expenditures you can't escape. He's already in debt from non-subsidized loans of $1700 (round dollars) just this semester. He was granted $800 work study but dragged his feet and no job now, since he got the idea he can cut a year of college expenditures. That's like going 2.5K in the hole per semester. And, he doesn't have a plan. It was innocent when I walked up to that machine and plunked in a few coins. I had no plans to buy vending machine soda for the next three years. Dad didn't get he wasted money on soda we had to consume that week, and it wasn't very good. Meanwhile, my son could miss out on internships that go with a four-year degree in communications at a public university. His focus is becoming a gaming creator through story-telling. I have an eerie inkling how this story goes: While not working to defer cost of his education and increasing difficulty of student work load (18 credits per semester +8 more credits in summers to catch up), he'll struggle, stress, grades drop, falls behind, misses important electives, misses internship opportunities and valuable contacts and winds up going...four years. I told him I will support him, but is his advisor on the same page...crafting a three-year plan? Does he just not want to work and goof off, mail it in, sail through college like he did high school? He got better at the SAT when he retook it after drilling him on the importance of planning and strategy. You don't re-do college (though many go five or six years). You take your best, measured shot. You're supposed to soak up this experience. College is regimented, structured so that you qualify for that diploma. They don't hand them out like the no-child-left-behind softies who gave him a hall pass out of high school. And, if he's thinking about a career just three years away, what is it? How will it materialize? We can cut costs, take a risk, let this kid think he's a stud and go out there and fall flat on his keister/face. How will he recover from that? He'll always find a job serving slices and wiping down tables. When the regret sinks in and no true career to bring joy lays out in front of him, what then? I will have regrets too, if I don't make him think big picture. I don't discount that he will be great. I took the reins off to let him run wild. He's trying to jump out of the stable instead of going through his paces. He's talented and a spectacle. How do you apply simple logic to a complex math question with moving, flexible parts -- and he wants tighter reins and all the pressure of pulling it off without the financial understanding and complexities that potentially make this an implodable situation. I didn't want him to leave college with huge debt. My debt was $700. Paid it off in a year. His? Astronimcal? No. $25-40K at this pace...three years! If it goes four because he struggles? Remortgage the house?? His decision means not my problem. I don't think he'll wind up living in a cardboard box. He just needs to know the value of a life spent rationalizing one vending machine purchase. The irony, it's grandpa's money that is paying for half of college (or more: investment strategies), not my own $. My dad didn't take risks with money (mine were calculated investments that near tripled college seed money). Dad still saw me as an unbreakable stallion while saving a penny at a time over sixty years. I just took his financial ideas and made them better (after I blew through all my college money with no plan in less than five years!). College is so expensive now. My son couldn't even land scholarships. And, he's a genius. To hear my family talk, I wasn't...at least about money. I got smarter. Maybe, my boy will, too. And, despite my efforts to plan for this college thing, I still worry. Or, is that already obvious? 529 college fund, parents. Look into it. Or, you'll be awake at night remembering guilt felt sucking down a Mountain Dew 27 years ago...and other life stuff. |
Who In This Hell Knows Purpose Dying like the leaves of Autumn Yearning renewal Know That's for someone else Believers, maybe Brothers and sisters I'll never meet Until we die Scattered, cluttered Together. Not an accurate analogy. We seek the heavens Not the ground. Decay is hell? No. We, The purposed Give of ourselves So others learn From the beauty And torment Of living and dying Together But apart. Until we meet Unceremoniously At the burial ground... |
 Moon in October sinking pale heart glow, slip beneath whispers of dark Grasp dull blue pearls Douse streetlights block by block Escape my wide dungeon Return sadder cold -- gloom fuller tonight Wet as the savaged leaves you illume I stand crisp gaze clear within -- beyond -- knowing your true position hidden Sadden another lover Import messages from me along our great divide 10.15.19 "Through this world I've stumbled So many times betrayed, Trying to find an honest word, To find the truth enslaved, Oh, you speak to me in riddles and You speak to me in rhymes..." I took a break one morning to look upon something I forgot to appreciate before it was gone, even more beautiful than I could have imagined. Maybe, it was better to wait rather than regret the hours that lapsed. Plus, I need my sleep. Growth as a writer comes from taking time to step back, take it all in. It's about perspective. I've learned as much as a slave as I have a free man. It's not my possession you will get. I'll wait for a worthy lover, even if it's the last chance before sunrise. Maybe, I'm just not ready. |
| Camden What's in a name? You'd think by any other name she Would smell as sweet Burst into my world Like an unplanned thing Because I had no name for her Until I saw Tender, frightened So uninlove with the light This trembling creature Revealed unto me Madeline Margaret I was her owner Until we mutually agreed While playing horsey She held my fate In her reigns Some unmarked day On the living room rug Where chafed knees began to frail. She was my owner Rebuffing any thought How she could steady herself Quell angst against a world Much more punitive than a father Now yielding to mother Who one day delivered There's been a change: No, she's not Madeline Margaret Anymore But some pierced, hooded creature Trolling about Still my plaything, buried Deep within that trembling Tender-calling, bleeding heart Just 'Camden' now I was not to be introduced The story will have an ending One day But who will I see Staring across a restaurant scene At me With love? The same contempt? For the man who released trills From a choked throat, when She became my owner Every time we say goodbye you're frozen in my mind as the child that you never will be, you never will be again. https://songmeanings.com/songs/view/17770/ ** Image ID #1173582 Unavailable ** ** Image ID #1155335 Unavailable ** ** Image ID #1289222 Unavailable ** ** Image ID #1295877 Unavailable **  |
Describing aloud (but not within hearing range) someone you see at the pool, knowing your daughter could crush hard on him: Teen Ken now with mustache accessory Earring not included Backwards-facing-hat sold separately Not reversible Cranium not suited for forward facing hat Now ending disclaimer |
Insurance Is Medicine I’m never getting diagnosed So, sorry to the stationary makers that supply your prescription pads To the dispensary that won’t have to count thirty more bitter pills this month To the little yellow vial providers who will have one less plastic container to ship To the pharmaceutical giants who will have to let off some random nanoseconds before the shift ending whistle because I don’t need a dram of what you got And until they legalize pot I’ll take two fingers of what you got And keep ‘em comin’. |
| When I was a fiery young man How my engine roared Fuel-tossed heart burned Inspired by their gasoline Now that I'm old A flaming spirit still soars Passion-engulfed soul seemingly Doused daily by wet buckets Of indifference. I can Start this up again. To my detractors, I'm learning To the indifferent, and you arrreee....? To myself, let it all hang out What doesn't kill... |
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Congratulations on winning the 2020 Quill Award for Best Psychology for [Link to Book Entry #980764]. *^*Delight*^* For more information, see [Link To Item #quills] .](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/group-Quill_Award-1375927_6.gif) I Am Not Forever Or now But I'm here somehow I live on light Once paper Permanently inked by Stains of revelations/ I live in fear light Isn't paper Fading into oblivion Stains of revelations Transparent 10.3.2019   Key ▼ Honorable mention: 2019 WDC Quills 6.2020 Honourable? A part of this poetry collection, earning:   Lives temporarily here, too: https://twitter.com/glaedrfly/status/1180492586869575680?s=21 |
| You know that scene where the protagonist approaches a scattered group of people with contemptible looks and he/she tries to walk past? They passive-aggressively snort derision, violently shoulder bump, or/and shove the misunderstood hero in the back? The protagonist seems confused or knows there is a misunderstanding, or worse, he's done something he shouldn't have or can't undo. But, well meaning, he's just trying to be himself. And in the PC world we live in today it's all about co-exist. And, in these scenarios, the antagonists may have been mislead or misinformed -- a group of puppets that act out, rail against when their leader incites them. As the story goes, fewer people want to take up the cause for the raging group. Some question authority and suffer being ostracized or worse consequences, which means nothing to those coalescing evilly against the protagonist. They use too much force; innocent people get hurt. The protagonist sees this and has options. He's a coward if he leaves the situation, knowing the group will hurt more people. He's powerless to stand up against them, because he needs that one thing from an exiled member or one authority to realize a miscarriage of justice. Often, that is not enough. We think, the protagonist has to die valiantly taking justice in his own hands. As an audience, we have a blood lust of our own that needs to be sated. Well, I'm too old for that. We need a new ending. And, it's boring. Everyone shakes hands and decides to be friends. The world is dying. We don't need war. We need to save this planet before it's too late. I think I just took the story back to act two. Hmm. Funny how these inter-dimensional portals function. |
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— 21
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— 29![Merit Badge in Shadows and Light
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A huge congratulations, to you!
You have won a very deserved Honourable Mention in [Link To Item #shadows] , round 112 *^*Smile*^*
Rachel](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/group-Shadows_and_Light-1936078_14.gif)
![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 Sponsor
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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}
![Merit Badge in G Specials
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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)
![Merit Badge in Chapter 1
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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)
![Merit Badge in Accuracy
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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)
![Merit Badge in 30DBC Winner
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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)
![Merit Badge in Every Moment Matters
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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)
