"bluntly" poems
*biologically yes you are..
physically, very clear
you are my* brother according to science
but to me you're dead.
*you treat me like ****
to put it bluntly*
emotionaly, you're not my brother,
you're a stranger living in my house.
i used to have a brother,
now he is nothing but a monster.
Mar 4, 2015
Mar 4, 2015 at 8:30 AM UTC
"Do not love half lovers
Do not entertain half friends
Do not indulge in works of the half talented
Do not live half a life
and do not die a half death
If you choose silence, then be silent
When you speak, do so until you are finished
Do not silence yourself to say something
And do not speak to be silent
If you accept, then express it bluntly
Do not mask it
If you refuse then be clear about it
for an ambiguous refusal is but a weak acceptance
Do not accept half a solution
Do not believe half truths
Do not dream half a dream
Do not fantasize about half hopes
Half a drink will not quench your thirst
Half a meal will not satiate your hunger
Half the way will get you nowhere
Half an idea will bear you no results
Your other half is not the one you love
It is you in another time, yet in the same space
It is you when you are not
Half a life is a life you didn't live,
A word you have not said
A smile you postponed
A love you have not had
A friendship you did not know
To reach and not arrive
Work and not work
Attend only to be absent
What makes you a stranger to them closest to you,
and they strangers to you
The half is a mere moment of inability,
but you are able for you are not half a being.
You are a whole that exists to live a life,
not half a life."
--Khalil Gibran
Jul 14, 2016
Jul 14, 2016 at 12:14 AM UTC
*So numb I feel like chewed up gum.
Turning into the black blown out smoke from my lungs. Reduced life span, who knows when it could be done. So how much do you value life ? Will you leave the city's cage and go on the run, chasing the sunset, drunk of *** in search of love. Some choose money as the total sum of success. It is too easy of a hunt. I'm embarking on an expedition to uncover the mystery of total freedom. To put it bluntly, I will never slow down like a slug. You can't hold me down until I've found my treasure hidden somewhere on this globe. One day i'll disappear and become unknown. Because birds leave the nest and my turn is next.*
Sep 5, 2014
Sep 5, 2014 at 5:15 PM UTC
The day after I got rejected, my dad called me out of my room and I knew what was coming. I wrote him a note. When I finally saw him sitting on the sofa, he told me to sit down. He began with, "Son, what's your plan?" I mumbled bluntly, "I don't know." He scratched the back of his bald head and continued, "You know, you need to find your passion in life. You might have thought that mechanics was your thing, but maybe--" he yammered on and on, about how to live life and what to live for. I handed out the note to him. He paused. "What's this?" "Please read." On the paper, I'd written, "I know, I know. This whole thing might just be a hobby after all. Yes, I have to find something that I'd be happy to work on. But right now, please let myself be delved in the sadness, so once I get out of it, I won't ever look back."
Aug 21, 2014
Aug 21, 2014 at 1:18 PM UTC
CATERPILLAR recognize me
BUTTERFLY (turning away glances over shoulder) excuse me
CATERPILLAR i’m you before you transformed
BUTTERFLY get away you ****** worm
CATERPILLAR you can’t be serious look at me i’m you
BUTTERFLY look at you? euwwwh you’re a sticky slug with too many legs (pause) i’m exquisite fluttering colorful poetry a celebrity with huge fan base wherever i fly people recognize admire me
CATERPILLAR (creases brow) what happened to you did you forget your past where you come from
BUTTERFLY my past is fiction i’ve always been this lovely luminary (turns profile to audience in exaggerated manner) can’t you see i’m busy go away please leave
CATERPILLAR (bluntly) you’re consumed in vanity drunk on yourself spectacle without substance you make me question my own growing will i become like you
BUTTERFLY stop talking i’m calling 911
CATERPILLAR (sharply) you’re a sickening disappointment another Paris Hilton spin-off i hope to die in the cocoon and be spared the sham of you
BUTTERFLY (speaking into cell phone) yes operator i’m being accosted violated attack in progress please dispatch police immediately
CATERPILLAR you’re pitiful over-reactionary spineless decadent
BUTTERFLY i have nothing more to say law enforcement will be here soon
CATERPILLAR quit fretting i’m out of here i need to find and warn other caterpillars this meeting is a bleak awakening
BUTTERFLY think what you like greasy maggot i’m late for a performance and need to skirt paparazzi
caterpillar trudges off stage left as butterfly ascends over audience
Aug 16, 2010
Aug 16, 2010 at 8:07 AM UTC
Perch on their water perch hung in the clear Bann River
Near the clay bank in alder dapple and waver,
Perch they called ‘grunts’, little flood-slubs, runty and ready,
I saw and I see in the river’s glorified body
That is passable through, but they’re bluntly holding the
pass,
Under the water-roof, over the bottom, adoze
On the current, against it, all muscle and slur
In the finland of perch, the fenland of alder, on air
That is water, on carpets of Bann stream, on hold
In the everything flows and steady go of the world.
4.4k
Here are the names of my lovers,
The women I sleep with, whom
I use, like they use me.
Spent, they discard me, for when their pleasure needs
Satiated, they climb aboard another man.
What they do not know,
Is that in my mind, in my ears,
everywhere,
I did not let them, or you go,
We are still romping,
For I
Take them as needed.
I need them all,
For my pleasure needs, like my unshaped heart,
Addictive, endless.
If your is name is here, I do not
Apologize.
Pink
Adele
Lilly Allen
Anna Nalick
Bess Rogers
Beyonce
Brandi Carlisle
Cat Power
Colbie Callait
Duffy
Eva Cassidy
Evanescence
Alison Sudol
Fiona Apple
Florence Welch
Grace Potter
Ingrid Michaelson
You
Joni Mitchell
K.D. Lang
Kate Nash
Kate Voegele
Leona Lewis
Lizz Wright
Madeline Peyroux
Marie Digby
Mary Wells
Norah Jones
Regina Spektor
Sara Bareilles
You
Sara Haze
Taylor Swift and Tracy Chapman
Tristan Prettyman
Vanessa Carlton
So many others, used so long ago, I can't remember the faces,
Which can't be googled.
Use them hard, use them often, more than daily.
Bluntly, I tell you
Your name is on my list,
Even if I do not disclose it.
Aug 18, 2013
Aug 18, 2013 at 9:31 AM UTC
I haven’t seen you
in weeks; yet –
it feels like an eternity.
Countless nights have gone by:
Bleeding wrists.
Sparkling eyes.
It’s all silent.
I can’t hear your delicate voice,
Only screams of my mind.
I miss you,
I need you,
I want you.
It says.
But, you were never mine.
Behind a digital screen,
Your brightness cannot shine –
So, I look up, to the infinite sky
In the hope to find you
As the star that makes me smile.
I could never reach you –
One day. I will see you again:
When you will be in Heaven as
the angel you are;
Whilst, I descend into hell,
As the demon I am.
I miss you. And I want to see you, once more, before it’s time to go.
Sep 25, 2018
Sep 25, 2018 at 4:00 PM UTC
If it has ended now
And we stop being friends,
Just tell me clearly please;
For love has blinded me,
I will not plainly see
That it has ended here.
I'm such a hopeful man
And will keep dreaming on,
So, say for certain please-
That this sweet friendship died;
There is no going back.
Too late to admit wrong,
(I am the guilty one
The fault was always mine).
Tell me to forget hope-
That the walls between us
Are stone hard, fiery hot,
And they will never fall.
Tell me to reject you,
And to not trouble you
That I should ramble off
And just go away far.
So, say it bluntly please,
If it has happened that
We are no longer friends.
Feb 16, 2015
Feb 16, 2015 at 6:57 PM UTC
the perfect ideal body image is no where near what I look like. I haven’t really met any guy yet who has referred to my body as beautiful, and you know that’s ok. even though dimples run around my thighs, even though I am marked with lines of strain and streams of growth, it’s ok. I am trying to convince myself that this body I am living in is a beautiful temple; one not to be hated or tortured. a temple to be carefully treated with love and grace. I am trying to convince myself that maybe he fell for what stood out the most. not my body or my outer skin of health, but me, myself, and I. what I stand for, who I care for, how I speak and approach, the way I laugh at a pointless joke that was told an hour before, how I choose pineapples over peaches, or maybe even how I choose simple small talk over a high energy activity. maybe to someone, my body is just perfect, because the other components mean so much more than what is bluntly visible.
(j.a.r.)
Mar 12, 2015
Mar 12, 2015 at 5:08 PM UTC
The bourgeoisie?
I loath them,
and I hope they buy my poems!
The critics?
They know nothing,
and I hope they hail my poems!
The intellectuals?
Dumber than pigeons,
and I hope they canonize my poems!
Unabashedly,
I'm not afraid to admit it:
I write for fame and riches,
and nothing really more.
Yes, yes, make no secret of it,
I wish only to shock you,
arouse and repulse you,
****** you,
with mindless,
gore-splattering violence,
and heart-throbbing ***
along on every page.
****** and ***** gore, and blood,
how else are my sales to flood?
It's art for arts' sake,
or something to the effect of that,
whatever makes me edgy,
socially relevant,
to scholars postmodern,
housewives bored,
and teenagers yearning,
to read ***** words.
So keep it then in mind,
my lovely readers you,
I very much like infamy,
and piles of money too;
be sure to buy my books,
praise me,
“Fresh and new!”
So that I may hire cooks,
to save time writing verse,
the very verses you adore,
lambasting the very rich and poor.
Rampant materialism,
spiritual decay,
what else do you
*******
want me to say?
A saint of the lowly,
the offbeat too,
voicing the obscure,
and the unheard and the
blah, blah, blah,
whatever it is,
I really don't care
quite honestly,
bluntly,
I'm being true,
I write for the fame
and the riches,
not you!
Mar 30, 2014
Mar 30, 2014 at 10:23 PM UTC
Film developer cacophonies, and journalistic hoarding
My friends wanted to record our last year –
Accurately – not succinctly
Abstractly – and yet, directly, bluntly
Vividly – in photography, quote notebooks, Dictaphone diatribes
That’s hilarious – scribble it down.
Can you repeat your brilliance?
If you could paraphrase that – well…what would you say?
Take another one. She wasn’t smiling.
I don’t want to smile.
My friend sidles up beside me – beaming grin
Sticking her fingers into my mouth
Pulling opposite and up
And her fingers tasted like
The musty pages of books without pictures.
Mar 6, 2014
Mar 6, 2014 at 11:53 AM UTC
My Grandpa might not be a super hero, but he's my hero.
He's a soldier who's had to conquer many battles
He's a fighter and someone who loves with all
of his heart.
He's the "claw", and a best bud
Someone who may not function like everybody else but is able to bluntly tell it like it is.
I wanted him to be the one who walked me down the aisle on my big day.
God has made other arrangements for him.
It's hard loosing someone who's your fatherly figure, who stepped up when no one else would
I sit alone crying, thinking, hoping, praying.
My heart is so heavy and I don't know what to do or who to turn to.
I was 10 at my last funeral.
I'm now 21, I'm scared to face death, have it look me in the eyes like everything will be okay.
To sit in a crowd of black; I'm not ready for those things.
He's my best bud, my claw, the one who tells
me he wants to see me graduate.
My motivation for success.
I'm crying now, and I just need saved.
Please save me, hold me tight, tell me it's okay.
I really wish God would let him stay.
Nov 14, 2015
Nov 14, 2015 at 6:57 PM UTC
It all started with mixing Tequila and Sambuca last Friday night.
Then I noticed him, busting some classic moves on the dance floor.
Soon we are dancing, grinding, kissing, laughing, dancing, kissing,
he's even drinking out of my half finished cup of water, he's smiling.
"I'm a Royal Marine, not an Army boy!" he corrects. "A Commando."
We both even have the same phone! Coincidence? I don't think so.
Beads of sweat dripping from his hair onto his flawless face and neck,
yet, he smells oh so divine, "it's Gucci Guilty Intense", he explains.
I blurt out, "Hope this won't be a waste of your time, 'cause I'm not
going to sleep with you tonight!" He says, "All right", and smiles.
Mixed signals, cold bed phobia, pure drunkenness combined,
I offer him, "It's late. You can spend the night at mine, I don't mind."
"Just Scott, you won't remember the rest, it's long and complicated",
later he adds, "Good luck trying to find me without my name!"
"I'm Twenty One." "That's so young", I exclaim and he frowns.
He's cocky yet witty, and also very pretty, so I let my dignity drown.
Taking him in my mouth until he explodes like a loaded gun,
my duty to the nation's hunkiest hero was well and truly done.
"I joined two days after my eighteenth birthday", said he with pride.
"My vacation's over. I'm leaving on Sunday to Poole". I sighed.
I spent the entire night insomniac, with my head throbbing to the beat
of his obliviously, peacefuly sleeping exhaling and inhaling speed.
Close enough to feel the heat of his body, yet a million miles away,
him dreaming and I reminiscing, both awaiting the dawn of a new day.
Skipping the "thank you", "goodbye", hug or phone number, he says,
"See you around maybe", holding a rather deceitfully seductive gaze.
"Scott, we're never going to see each other again", I answer bluntly.
Mirroring my sad smile in reply, minus the sadness, he left promptly.
Nov 24, 2012
Nov 24, 2012 at 3:05 PM UTC
i wish i could have that sweet 16 kind of romance.
kisses that are ardent and chaste
not forced, feeling like a mouthful of nails
hugs that are comforting and soft
instead of repulsive, a cage i violently try to break free of
hands that are holding mine, a loving reminder and consistent warmth
not calloused extremities stealing me by the wrist towards my demise
words that are gentle and sincere (beautiful, talented, queen),
instead of ones described only as ***** ******* ***** *****
intimacy that arrives only if and when i'm ready, youthful and gentle
not ****** onto me years before sweet 16, hardly intimate but instead bluntly illicit
bodies (especially mine) that are unscarred, untainted, unused
not the opposite, crusted in an inscrutable filth impossible to remove
love that is fun and bright, something I can boast to all my friends
not a sickening attraction shrouded in the depths of my mind, only to see the light through poetry written in the early hours...
i wish, i wish, i wish.
i wish i could have that sweet 16 kind of romance!
but i don't.
wishes are just flimsy desires; a tear-soaked plead to the void of night, words on a poem no one may care to read, something i say as i blow out the candles. hopeful and yet, hopeless.
so, i'm still 16. and at least my favorite dessert is sweet. but the romance? ha! my romance is dead; burnt to ashes, like a delicate rose bathed in kerosene and set alight by the burning match of a devil's lust.
Mar 13, 2018
Mar 13, 2018 at 7:16 AM UTC
This is number six of ORLOK's poems
When I see a fat smiling face
On a plump young ******
I am consumed with lust
To rip out her neck
And to **** the lifeblood
From her throbbing veins.
And then my drooling jaws
Slide down her floppy ****
Heading southwards
To where the business is at
For a further tasty mouthful
From both ends.
Finally I administer
The coup de grâce
Which is to say
Putting it bluntly
Eight inches of vampiric ****
Up the dirtbox.
Jan 20, 2015
Jan 20, 2015 at 12:17 PM UTC
The Flowers
"How happy and pretty
You look!"
I said to some flowers
And shook.
"Happiest moment in life",
Said the flowers
"When in search of nectar
The bee hovers."
I said, "It's very interested
and swollen,
Has selfish purpose and
Carries pollen."
"You pluck, hand over us
When you meet,
***** down us on floor.
We lie at feet."
"Our friends, our chums
Butterfly and bee!"
Bluntly said the flowers
And rejected me.
S. Bharat
Apr 9, 2019
Apr 9, 2019 at 11:01 PM UTC
He bluntly crucified my friend
I’ve known liars, I‘ve known thieves
I’ve seen crooked lawyers in action
I was shocked by the jurors reaction
I have study the body languages of the fibbers
Read between the lines of the tell-tales
But to concocted a preposterous but believable story
Just to feed it to the judge: That is so cold, yet so bold
I always believe in the old saying,
Only fools represent themselves in the courts of law
My heart bleeds for my dearest friend
His soul have grown weaker than elastic knicker
**Akiane Kramarik said
"No matter what happens around us, or to us, through love,
our soul reaches immortality, conquering all dimensions and all destinies**
He had bathed in the forbidden sea, where the mermaid had warn him
Not to entered:, Where the daughters of Lucifer lured kindhearted men from good homes
He builds their house near the sand, and it slowly sank
He looks out to the Atlantic Ocean,
for guidance and saw the raging waves
Then he remembers nights of unsettling dream:
He have known liars, he have known pain,
Somehow, it was hard for him to stay afloat in
the murky water I’ve known liars
I have listened to both sides:
but earlier this week the judge was so quick to chooses sides
Is this the end for my friend?
Jun 24, 2017
Jun 24, 2017 at 5:00 PM UTC
Poets go blind from writing by moonlight,
But my artist smites the moon with her luminance,
I write by her subtle, cyan, rays
And would gladly go blind for, with her, my eyes find their fill quickly,
She is the unexpected wind bouncing off the water’s surface,
And my chest is the sail,
Lifted, pushed, expanded and fulfilled to its most righteous purpose,
If the world is a stage than she is the red velvet curtain,
Commanding a sway so slight and savory
That other rags rent and burn,
No matter how mesmerizing the performance is,
A sudden hush or vibrant ovation is demanded in her wake,
A sultry swirl of goddess and girl,
Too precious to be stored with other jewels,
Elegance with every hinting glance, every rowdy inhale,
And every placement of those sinister legs,
That rams would think twice to scale,
The bend in her back is the stroke of my oils,
The pout of her lips is scarlet meat to the lions,
And the feel of her hips sum up my surreptitious desires,
Like good jazz things seem to pull back
Before the cathartic crescendos,
But to put it bluntly dear, the next time you’re here,
It may pay to freshen up with a Mentos.
Jul 28, 2013
Jul 28, 2013 at 2:45 AM UTC
I was on bed then clueless about my life.
I remember three years ago, it was a strife.
I was made to realize by pain of being alive.
The procedure of tracheotomy was done.
The other nose was cut into my windpipe.
The lower end of my throat was bandaged.
The two navels are located on my stomach.
The second navel was gained at the hospital.
The upper navel is not always here to be seen.
Blankly I stared at the world in front of me.
Bluntly I stared at a big wall in front of me.
Bleakly I stared at people coming to see me.
They would come few in numbers initially.
That time is something I can't recall clearly.
Then I was home worriedly waiting for him.
The eternal-seeming torture period started then.
The dreaded physiotherapist used to come then.
The kind man was renamed ***physio the ******
He caused me great pain, I was like a 3-year old.
He saw me writhe in pain & I begged for mercy.
He continued coming & I remained terrorized.
I used to ask my parents if they're actually mine.
I was made to disbelieve in them as my parents.
I took numbing pills directly into my stomach.
I used to remain in sheer terror all day long.
I took offence at the sound of the doorbell itself.
I was asking my parents if someone would come.
May 27, 2013
May 27, 2013 at 8:37 AM UTC
Compassion, compassion
Poets, viewers, poems with injurious remarks
Why we do the things we do?
We were born to suffer together
a poet who asked his viewers to feel his pain
Throughout the lines, while tearing down the barriers
that separate and divide the poet and the readers
I bluntly said to that poet, one heart, and one love
If I was to say to that poet: death is good for some people
They deserve to die a painful death,
Am I asking too much of the poet to show empathy:
Who gave him the right, to steer me through his attitude and guilt
Who gave him the right, too asked of me to join a sympathetic crusade?
right now I'm in the process of turning empathy off and say buzz off Man!
Apr 29, 2015
Apr 29, 2015 at 8:16 AM UTC
Life is not easy like almost everyone thinks it is. My mom always told me that life isn’t easy, kids just have it easy. I didn’t believe her, I fought with her all the time, and sometimes it got physical. I hated living with my mom, and I wanted to have my own rules, like almost every teenager. So I started leaving and going with my friends, and running the streets all day and all night, not going to school, not even caring what I was missing, I just knew I was free. I had no rules, no consequences, and nothing going for myself.
I was a goody-goody, I did the right things, I went to school, I didn’t do anything to harm myself. I remember those days, and I thrived for a do-over. I've heard things, that I wouldn't dream of repeating to my mother. I've seen things that no other person should have to see. I've seen people doing things that I prayed every night, that I wouldn't get caught up in. I worried that I would make all the wrong choices, and mess my entire life up, beyond return. I thought I knew what I was doing, but I guess my mom was right. School had no value to me anymore. I didn't want to be in this town I'm supposed to call "home”. I didn't want to be anywhere. I bluntly admitted to my mother that I was contemplating suicide.
My mother made me move with my dad in Buckfield, and I went. I went back to my moms for the balloon festival. But, two days before the festival, my dad made me come back to his house. I told my dad that I was going back to my moms, him and his girlfriend freaked out. They started restraining me from leaving, by grabbing the collar of my shirt, and therefore choking me. My dad pushed me to the floor, sat on top of me, shoving my face into the floor, and was screaming “What kind of drugs are you on?” I’m going to be 100% honest, I have been verbally, emotionally, physically, and sexually abused. I’ve been slapped across the face by my mom’s ex-husband, on multiple occasions. He’s almost given me a concussion, from shoving me against the wall. Like I have said, life is not easy… Life is not fair. But, had I not been through everything that I have been through, I wouldn’t be the way I am. I may have gone through hard times, a lot of them at that, but it’s made me strong and independent. I’ve had some really good friends who support and love me, I have had really good family friends that have helped me be who I am today. I am now really close to my mom, I am home all the time, I go to school all day everyday. In the past couple months, I turned my life around. Don’t make the same mistakes I did. Life is not easy that way, you need school, you need friends and family. As much as you may think you don’t need family, you do. It’s is what helps you get through your everyday struggle.
Jun 9, 2015
Jun 9, 2015 at 8:17 AM UTC
Vaguely Blunt and Bluntly Vague-
these are the explanations which i gave-
words too deep for sorrow, i utter from which i made-
i am vague yet blunt, trying to out live this stunt-
Terse, I am called rude, I mean, I am real, Blunt- while I am Vague-
to not indicate the offenders, whom we all see and suffer throughout the day-
I can not disclose my feelings, uncomfortable with their sins-
I tarry quickly to shut the door , before their wickedness begins-
It is not a game, it's real , at least to me-
excuse me if i am rude or blunt or don't make sense because i am vague=
Nov 25, 2012
Nov 25, 2012 at 1:08 PM UTC