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#blast
Let us deride the smugness of “The Times”: GUFFAW ! So much the gagged reviewers, It will pay them when the worms are wriggling in their vitals ; These were they who objected to newness, HERE are their TOMB STONES. They supported the gag and the ring : A little black BOX contains them. SO shall you be also, You slut-bellied obstructionist, You sworn foe to free speech and good letters, You fungus, you continuous gangrene. Come, let us on with the new deal, Let us be done with Jews and Jobbery, Let us SPIT upon those who fawn on the JEWS for their money, Let us out to the pastures. PERHAPS I will die at thirty, Perhaps you will have the pleasure of defiling my pauper’s grave, I wish you JOY, I proffer you ALL my assistance. It has been your HABIT for long to do away with true poets, You either drive them mad, or else you blink at their suicides, Or else you condone their drugs, and talk of insanity and genius, BUT I will not go mad to please you. I will not FLATTER you with an early death. OH, NO ! I will stick it out, I will feel your hates wriggling about my feet, And I will laugh at you and mock you, And I will offer you consolations in irony, O fools, detesters of Beauty. I have seen many who go about with supplications, Afraid to say how they hate you. HERE is the taste of my BOOT, CARESS it, lick off the BLACKING.
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Nov 15, 2025
Nov 15, 2025 at 7:46 PM UTC
SALUTATION THE THIRD. By Ezra Pound
what does this mean? the words appear, smeared in my brain, like an electronic sign upon a good sized big time food truck, explosively repeating, in bright colors, disassembling, then, reconnecting and I write in search of meaning, why someone thought that was an attractive, good idea, it’s crazed, thinking a lost cause, was ever a good idea                                                                       <nml>
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Nov 7, 2025
Nov 7, 2025 at 9:37 PM UTC
learning to not blast past myself
Don't Rain on my Parade, You are not gonna rob my joy, So, just get on out of my way, Since you want to be a Killjoy. I am Here to have a good time, Not moping around looking all Sad, I want some EXCITEMENT, now THRILL ME!!! SHOW ME GREATEST TIME I HAVE EVER HAD!!! I am having SUCH A BLAST, the most FUN IS CLEARLY SHOWN, If you didn't want to HANG THEN, You should have stayed yourself at HOME!!! You are so DULL and so BORING, I am having a Grand Time, SO SORRY!!! I'm not letting you bring me down, Don't want to join, then see you Around!!!! I won't stop having a good time, or the fact that you are annoyed, I will keep enjoying myself, and You are not robbing me of my joy!! I will keep on with my HAPPINESS, Here I come, I am on my WAY!!! Whether you like it or not, are you in or out, YOU ARE NOT RAINING MY PARADE!!!!! B.R. Date: 11/26/2024
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Nov 26, 2024
Nov 26, 2024 at 6:29 PM UTC
🌧 Don't Rain on my Parade 🌧
Something terrible And so many injured And the rest's life lost When the train blast
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Mar 29, 2022
Mar 29, 2022 at 3:08 PM UTC
Train blast
a sight to see, the beauty yet to be, thrilling chase—surpass, wonders, waiting to blast!
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Nov 21, 2020
Nov 21, 2020 at 12:19 PM UTC
wonder
When my soul gets bubbled inside gloominess , there's only one potent voice that blasts the bubble ; my inner voice who calls me out , ' Spriha , don't listen to anyone except me. '
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Aug 25, 2020
Aug 25, 2020 at 4:04 AM UTC
Untitled ( 6 )
The plane was her last ride, back to her home from the deserts of dreams. The modern plague of her times drained the last bit out of her. The ride began as she huddled her child and spouse close as if the she knew it was their last embrace and warmth. They fell into the indefinite slumber. The rain lashed it's fury and winds howled death. The pilot's last breath was put into stopping the airborne casket of hopes. As it skid and crashed them. Their hopes to live remain immortalized in their indefinite sleep, as we mourn their loss, through the tears of pain that tear out our folly.
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Aug 7, 2020
Aug 7, 2020 at 4:06 PM UTC
..their last ride..
First it hits - then there’s a blast It is so simple man Perhaps But when you come to think of it You dread For how you could But well You know You wouldn’t know That’s all That’s how it is How Was and will And ****** be ye if not feel chill For it is scary Just you think You live and die in just a blink
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Feb 17, 2020
Feb 17, 2020 at 1:46 PM UTC
First it hits
Massage it, Shake it, Think about her. Massage it more, Shake it till you blast, Experience the ephermal joy. Avoid premarital pregnancy.
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Nov 4, 2019
Nov 4, 2019 at 11:34 PM UTC
The Ephemeral Joy
I've never been a huge socializer, and that's really all, that people seem to do at football games. So, why even go? Well, now that I'm a member of the marching band, it looks like I have to. I mean, last night I never really thought that I'd have fun. I mean, who wants to just go and scream for 3 hours? I guess I do. Last night was amazing. You get to just be yourself, and you just forget about everything. You just realize more and more through the game, that's it's just about having a blast and playing songs, to keep the team going. There we were, waving our instruments, screaming for our team, and having the time of our lives. Now, I know for a fact, that at the end of the season, I will do anything to go back, and do it all again...
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Sep 7, 2019
Sep 7, 2019 at 11:06 AM UTC
Friday night football
The barren   landscape sends me shivers Further enhanced by the total obliteration The presence of ghosts still lingers So many years after the detonation All this desolation pictures Like a scene from the apocalypse scriptures A pale nuclear shadow projected eternally The perpetual loss of harmony A remnant showing us our absurdity Was vaporised by the obfuscating bright The ashen picture is the last goodbye Relic of the tremendous light My moods darken I want to cry This is the last trace of a human being a son of someone prevented from further ageing That from fate couldn’t run Like a permanent echo of the disaster a visual silent scream like a photograph of a dreadful dream a shout that sends a warning to us all As we wish to forget how the balance is frail It’s easy to disregard the detail and be united by the same fate that destruction at an even greater scale it’s yet a threat not out of date
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Apr 8, 2019
Apr 8, 2019 at 5:24 AM UTC
Hiroshima Pictures
I dream everyday Every night Dream is the perfect illusion Dream is the perfect escape And I always think Do dreams really help As i think yes Yes they help me  escape reality Yes they make me smile But dreams never last As a bubble they blast Reality is never sweet But silly me I always dream the perfect dream
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Feb 7, 2019
Feb 7, 2019 at 1:55 AM UTC
Dream
They are rushing furiously across a danger path. Trying to escape all foes in stark contrast. Light brightly shining their path. Escaping giant demons of wrath. The day of reckoning is over soon. Precious are the lives of a chosen few. Above and beyond the swarm cries too. Just the fleetest will do. As they were born above the ground. Crawling toward an evil and also hopeful sound. Across the ground these demons pound. The fault of some they found. Driving their fleeting heart even more. Kindly they beg the evil and demons who ignore. High in the clouds the evil soar. While the hopeful eyes of many are ready to look toward. As the demons pass. Steep trouble will find the many at last. High above the evil gathers it’s strength fast. Diving from the sky with speed blast. Some are plucked from the ground by the evil. It is feast or famine not to cause an upheaval. Soon few of the many will be safe in their home that is primeval. What these fleeting few have been through is unbelievable.
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Oct 5, 2018
Oct 5, 2018 at 8:14 PM UTC
The Hopeful Journey
The bushland calls Of my childhood dreams Amongst the wild My soul it, sings The gentle breeze light upon the skin Sun upon my face it welcomes me in To the lands of summers Though now long gone Memories of the heats haze With a white juvenile horse Within a closed off field it lay But young and free it was born Birds flying high above Shielding the rays of the sky Perfectly clear a crystal bright blue Not a single cloud in sight Fields filled with nothing But the dirt beneath our feet Dull patches of green and yellow Amongst cattle it feeds A rooster it crows loud The chooks begin to run As bruce, a little staffy Chases them about Work shed full of tools Covered by a rusted tin roof Parked beside it old barrols And a broken down ute Stone walls of the house To keep it cool inside Spread across the cold floors A reddish brown cowhide Worn down leather couch Out upon the front porch An eski filled with stubbies Where the boys had their "talks" I feel the memories flooding back This peacefulness, this sense of home Hours pass by within seconds Losing myself in the zone My footsteps have long faded with time As has my name once carved upon the gumtrees The white stallion no longer grazes near by Nor do the same cattle dwell in that field Worn down by time and way of the land Though I do intend to return again To share the beauty of this place Drawn back by the old fate The day melts away like the snow And I hear my parent calling my name This place will forever be my second home Because I know here, I'll never be alone
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Sep 30, 2018
Sep 30, 2018 at 7:58 AM UTC
The Summer Haze of the Outback
The bushland calls Of my childhood dreams Amongst the wild My soul it, sings The gentle breeze light upon the skin Sun upon my face it welcomes me in To the lands of summers Though now long gone Memories of the heats haze With a white juvenile horse Within a closed off field it lay But young and free it was born Birds flying high above Shielding the rays of the sky Perfectly clear a crystal bright blue Not a single cloud in sight Fields filled with nothing But the dirt beneath our feet Dull patches of green and yellow Amongst cattle it feeds A rooster it crows loud The chooks begin to run As bruce, a little staffy Chases them about Work shed full of tools Covered by a rusted tin roof Parked beside it old barrols And a broken down ute Stone walls of the house To keep it cool inside Spread across the cold floors A reddish brown cowhide Worn down leather couch Out upon the front porch An eski filled with stubbies Where the boys had their "talks" I feel the memories flooding back This peacefulness, this sense of home Hours pass by within seconds Losing myself in the zone My footsteps have long faded with time As has my name once carved upon the gumtrees The white stallion no longer grazes near by Nor do the same cattle dwell in that field Worn down by time and way of the land Though I do intend to return again To share the beauty of this place Drawn back by the old fate The day melts away like the snow And I hear my parent calling my name This place will forever be my second home Because I know here, I'll never be alone
Continue reading...
54
Let me hear You are fine there Hope to see again
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Sep 11, 2018
Sep 11, 2018 at 3:52 AM UTC
9/11
Today yesterday tomorrow Blasts my head That friend that girl blast my head Today yesterday tomorrow blast my head That the holidays that school Blasts my head Blasts my head Blasts my head Blasts my head Let me be the one you blast me I'm so tired I'm so tired Today yesterday tomorrow Blasts my head That friend that girl blast my head Today yesterday tomorrow blast my head That the holidays that school Blasts my head Blasts my head Blasts my head Blasts my head Blast Blast Blast my head Blast Blast Blast my head Ahh ahh All over. 2016
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Jun 28, 2018
Jun 28, 2018 at 2:01 PM UTC
Blasts my head.
A field of fire rising up to the sky Ten thousands of people; all will die Dozens of suns and a giant shockwave And nobody went to visit my own grave. Music and life had fallen as well And imprisoned in a chamber donned by people as “hell” Yet deaf was all real, but the one thing heard Was the blast in the morning as soft as a bird. A place where freedom did never exist A place where war from society was ****** And liberty had left; and peace had too Inside of the government always undergoing a coup. Cities had fallen from the bombs up above Some paradoxical world that once kept me in love With its sadism of nature, but all that has gone And poems were buried in the nuclear dawn. No…no no no no no more I can’t take this anymore No more nightmares it’s getting to a point PLEASE, NO MORE EXPLOSIONS WHY DOES IT STILL HAPPEN?!!!! NO MORE NO MORE NO MORE NO MORE NO MORE NO MORE NO MORE NO MORE NO MORE NO MORE NO MORE NO. And my body rocks violently in sleep.
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Mar 21, 2018
Mar 21, 2018 at 9:51 PM UTC
Nightmare
A silhouette cross by Like a rock star Metal probe in his back With alpha heart Pointed somewhere, and Trigger a prey ---ahhh-----ahh. Probably, the last cry Human, it was. Fired more metals Without, excuse to say I probably, enjoyed a view of bloodshed being a cannibal waiting for a fest. It is hard to live Harder to feel 20-40-90, and more to count Bang…. Bang….Bang A fetus got a medal, before his birth A mute got a medal, no one to hear I turned my face towards the light As their life have no input to mine. Later that night, I wake up, before a dawn a nasty smell of sulfur, over my surround. Was it my smell, when I was born? If it is not me, then who cares? I heard an inner voice, "Silence is a curse for humanity". Then, I scream loud, Help….help Low frequency chants from UN, I  heard, RIP  RIP  RIP How can, rest in peace, be help? Pray is not what, they asked for, they are calling for help, Irony, we just pray.
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Feb 26, 2018
Feb 26, 2018 at 1:06 AM UTC
Sulfur Spray
- - Blast was/is /will Never be Music of my choice. - -
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Feb 26, 2018
Feb 26, 2018 at 12:55 AM UTC
Raining Blood
Bomb lives till it blast Making a live, dead At the end, it commits suicide.
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Feb 20, 2018
Feb 20, 2018 at 6:50 PM UTC
Blast
I own horses, hence I take photos and write short poems that go with them. The latest  poem I wrote was about the first day of bitter cold air and first snow flakes falling, sticking to my horse's mane: Oh, no! The Arctic Blast is here With gusts of wind and chilly air And tiny flakes of sparkly white Much to the horse's great delight
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Jan 2, 2017
Jan 2, 2017 at 10:50 AM UTC
Horses in the Cold
the days are long and exhausting but they're a distraction I desperately need until night falls and I'm left alone laying, staring at the ceiling and everything I was sure I pushed away comes back strong and forceful and all I can do is hold on and try not to look directly into the blast, wait for it to be over and wallow in its wake until it's shockwaves finally succeed in knocking me unconscious, and the distractions begin again. even the nightmares are welcome because they, too, are an escape. nothing seems as bad as the battles of my mindfield during every waking moment. so I welcome the monsters and make them my friend if nothing but to eat my thoughts before they destroy my mind.
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Jul 11, 2016
Jul 11, 2016 at 12:59 AM UTC
Emo Poetry
I no longer call your name into the night no more do my hands fit to yours I have forgotten how your voice sounds it took some time, but my heart stopped syncopating to the beat of yours and in the process of letting go of you I became mine.
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Apr 12, 2016
Apr 12, 2016 at 10:46 PM UTC
yours
Tennessee Coal and Iron Ensley Works , Birmingham , Alabama Ensley Highlands , 30th Street A turn of the century wood framed house , sitting high on top a hill Sitting on the front porch swing in the sweltering August evening air Playing "Your car next" , as cars ran up and down the hill Swapping turns , who gets what , laughing at some of the outrageous wheels Then as darkness descends the dark skyline turns to Hell Jets of forced blast air hits molten iron and the gush of flames shoot high into the air Eleven , twelve , maybe more all the blast furnaces roared as sparks flew up into the smoke Surely these are the Devil's works Where men are tortured so As this for a backdrop now it was time for ghost stories galore Headless people and black drabbed ghouls and little girls dripping wet that drowned in some unforgiving lake We would draw up knees to our chest in spite of the oppressive heat And I would jump every time the breeze would rustle the hidden leaves So scared were we as bedtime neared we'd ask mother if we could spend "the night with you" Ha ha ha , she replied , "NO !" And then she went Boo ! Boo ! Boo ! Boo ! Boo ! Boo !
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Apr 16, 2015
Apr 16, 2015 at 2:47 AM UTC
Blast Furnace Summer's Night
I lived my life Like a bullet from a gun Racing down a barrel From an explosive past Always smoke and fire and blast Then I moved on In my haste racing away I'm concerned not who I graze All my days I came Crashing into , littered souls What carnage too Once I left I was gone awesome , strong Hell bent on ways That destruction sent Cold steel and Hot lead My nerves bled and others too Through your flesh and heart I pierced With never a thought Of mercy due I lived my life Like a bullet From a gun Cold cold steel and Red hot lead
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Nov 5, 2014
Nov 5, 2014 at 5:52 PM UTC
Bullet From A Gun