Uniquely Soundless

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Deep breath Let it out, carry the blight Another ... remember the mantra It is NOT a reflection of my worth - ever This imbalance, this favoritism ... yet ... I work tirelessly, intensely I scrape the walls of my spirit Wring the drops of creativity from my core Burn the pulpy paragons of my aim and acumen All in the efforts to weave the finest fabric from phrase To spin wonder from words and will To affect the deepest emotion and imagination and ire Simply by the ordering and placement of letters on a page It is my passion - my craft And I take nothing more seriously Or more joyously And no matter how magical the end game No matter what the fruit born of my most astute energies I drown in a cipher sea (And this is not a perspective of arrogance, but rather empirical reality) Patches of rough-hewn fabric that frays at the edge Shredded attempts at art and assignment That are their own worst rags and remnants But are held up as the golden standard of excellence And, (I kid you not), wonders of the writing world Simply because of the signature at the bottom (And often, a fake one at that) Though it fails me as to where that absurd accolade originates Oh, to but query straight out, without reproach - Where-oh-where, is the ripe in this refuse?!? What is the redemption you find in these careless phrases? Stuffy words stuffed into stuffy stanzas All for the sake of feigned profundity How can anyone possibly take such transparent text For anything but mediocrity and mush?!? Still, the endless comments of adoration ... at a loss It is a weekly, daily, even hourly poison to my soul Rending, ragged, my person and fertile prescience Leaving my hands clenched and blue My wit and whimsy tattered My quill filled with blood And my heart ... taxed and weary.

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Winged Warrior

Date: 7/4/2018 5:33:00 PM

Masterfully executed my friend...your pen runneth deep...love & light...^WW^

Gregory Richard Barden
Date: 7/10/2018 9:35:00 PM

Many thanks to you, ^WW^ - so very much appreciated, friend! :-)

Gershon Wolf

Date: 7/1/2018 11:26:00 PM

O, alliterative architect of burnished banter: Calumny's cant, dogma's dogged doggerel, and fantasy's far-ranging felicity... Whatever the H I just wrote -- none of it carries a candle to your memorable musings, O palpably pen-weary poet. ... Enjoyed this one immensely. Thank you for posting it. The reading is a pleasure. The re-reading, a delight. The contemplation, an eternal prod. Best always, Gershon

Gregory Richard Barden
Date: 7/10/2018 9:34:00 PM

Ah, thank you so much, my friend, this one was very layered and multiguous, and I can tell you "found the trail" I was cutting with my word machete', haha! Trying to do so without shedding any blood, but that's another trail, I think. Blessings for your kind words as always, my friend! :-)

Lin Lane

Date: 7/1/2018 3:47:00 AM

I hope it helped to vent. Most will not comprehend of what or whom you speak, but I read you loud and clear. The depth of their mental profundity comes from the pages of Roget's. Stop drinking the poison and your affliction will be healed, your wit and whimsy still intact.

Gregory Richard Barden
Date: 7/10/2018 9:31:00 PM

Thank you, Lin! :-) <3