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blunt: adjective
1.
(of a knife, pencil, etc.) having a worn-down edge or point; not sharp.
having a flat or rounded end.

2.
(of a person or remark) uncompromisingly forthright.
----------------------
Today, my mom called me blunt.
And I have to admit that it's true
My thoughts and words are blunt and can hit you like a rock

But,
I realized I am also blunt.
I was once quick and sharp,
Ready to take on the world and fight
Fight like hell
Yet now, I can't

My mind isn't as strong- willed as it used to be
My body isn't as tough as it used to be
They're tired of fighting
I'm tired of fighting
Years of seeing horror and death,
You become used to it
Years of fighting,
You get too battered to stand up once more and fight.
I've become blunt and unbelievably tired.
Maybe.
I should...
Just....
Rest.........
If only my words were to become true.
---
I'm Not Okay (I Promise) by My Chemical Romance
Anais Vionet Apr 2022
Lisa comes into my room and flops on the bed. The day had been uncompromisingly gray, windy and cold. The night sky was a snowy, blowing darkness, an absolute void that absorbed the campus lights and reflected nothing back. “I’m missing Spring Break,” Lisa she says.

“It doesn’t even seem like Spring Break happened,” I say. “Most Yalies went to Puerto Rico this year, I think, from my sampling.”

“RIGHT?” Lisa said, “EVERYONE says that - we’re in sync. But I enjoyed Paris,” Lisa continued, “I liked your family - no - I LOVED your family,” she amends.

“THAT’s a strong take,” I say, chuckling.

“I watched basketball with your uncle (Rémi) and cousins and helped your grandma cook,” she explains, “I felt like a part of your family.”

“Aww,” I say, “You ARE part of my family now - you’re TRAPPED,” and we laughed.

They invented spring break because after several months, the student mind starts to notice a harsh reality - how much their dorm room resembles a cinder-block jail cell - and starts to wonder how a lifetime of study and stress over grades has gotten them no further in life than the average felon.

We’re at lunch. Lisa says, “Ok, what’s new with you?” Keep in mind we see each other ten times a day.

“Well,” I say, I’ve decided that “The Beatles are for spring.” Lisa laughs. “Stop!” I demand, “I’m going deep. Today’s song is Julia,” I say, “It’s John Lennon’s song to his mom who was run over by a car when he was a child.”  “I love that song,” Lisa says.

“Ok, what about you?” I ask.
“My song right now is “Move like a Boss,” Lisa says, “When I’m walking across campus, with my air pods on - I’m intense, don’t get in my way - I’m dangerous, I’ll Will Smith you - I scare me.”

“Good to Know,” I say, wishing I’d gotten a lemon brownie.

Then I add, “I’ve got this presentation on Monday that I haven’t even had time to look at yet. If I don’t get on it by this weekend it’ll be a nuclear-level disaster. I started on it yesterday and the Internet went down for 20 minutes. It was stressful - of course, you don’t know how long the outage is going to be when you’re IN it - and I had THINGS to do - is that convoluted? ”

“No,” Lisa says, nodding in agreement, “losing the Interweb’s traumatic.”
BLT word of the day challenge: Convoluted: "very complicated and difficult to understand."
Mae Jun 2017
If I were to do it all again I'd tell my mother that I was sorry
I'd tell my brother that I love him
And I'd tell my best friend that
Maybe the skirt was a little too short for brunch with the parents

I'd tell my sister that I wish I had an ounce of her integrity
I'd thank my coach for believing in me
I'd kiss my teacher on both cheeks
For not leaving me in the hallway crying
I'd thank her for being my only friend for almost an entire year
I'd thank her for carrying me on her shoulders for so long
But most of all I'd thank her for letting go at the right moment

If I were to do it all again
I'd be more honest
Not blunt.
Because blunt is uncompromisingly forthright
And I, for one, give a ****.

If I were to do it all again
I'd understand that in order to get to "success"
I'd have to climb the thousand feet tall ladder called "fear"

If I were to do it all again
I'd jump out of the plane on two
Because people hold on to the edges at three

If I were to do it all again...
Man I'd be at the top of that ladder
Oli Mortham Sep 2014
How can I search for Truth in a world that's built on lies?
A lid resting heavily over a once glistening eye:
Shielding, masking, concealing
What last droplets of wonderment are trickling and asking to pierce the concrete ceiling...
...Instead I cynically note its off and aging colour...
"Yellow: Choice Number 4!"
Relays my proud voice, with a more
Assertive tone; I, the host...
Discussing aesthetics to collectively pathetically awe-struck guests, over specially served toast...
"Yes, I'm an impulse shopper, so it seems"...
...(Well, according to the ******...something article I read in my monthly subscribed to magazine)...
Happily consumed by consumerism...
But still unable to consummate
Anything really, Truly sacred...
...Unless I'm exactly half naked...
(That includes wearing Calvin Klein SoCKs)
And crucially still sporting my brand-named top,
Designed for tight fit to cull any ounce of shoddiness,
Whilst giving the impression of an existing healthy body, no less,
And then, due to superficial attraction,
An end will occur, hopefully, of distraction,
From the absence of my once healthy mind...
...but that never happens...
So then, how can I search for Truth when the bricks of my own guise
Only resonate deceit, sealed to create a facade of falseness?
Sure, I can articulate,
Wielding words like swords,
Pure, planned alliteration...
Baffling the bemused by barraging both beautiful and brutally belligerent brilliance...
But...
Showmanship is the tool of the restlessly minded,
Those who search the hardest for the key to authenticity but yet cannot find it,
And then paint their walls with vibrancy set out
By observing the mass hysteria of the layman,
Because nobody wants, Truly, to be classed as grey...
Do they?
Or it may
Be that that is exactly what we're all tactfully missing:
The fact that appearance, in some sense,
Is reliant on one sense,
And thus, in defiance of what we're meant
To wholeheartedly believe,
It is, in its very nature, subjective.
We were not designed
With a panel of judges judgmentally judging what pair of shoes should be selected,
Our mind's
Blueprint was principally a highly charged and thirstily receptive
Open book, with no printed prose,
No preordained guide to "Truth",
Merely a transient vessel:
A glowing red beacon of vulnerability in glorious, continuous distress,
Uncompromisingly afraid of its own ignorance, which, through an act of defense,
Strives to follow other's paths,
In arbitrary hopefulness that someone knows the meaning of it,
The answer to it,
The code that locks it,
The spark that drives it,
So in our fearful and ever conscious lives it,
Makes us want to hide behind this
Fantasy of an apex being,
Where our car seats vibrate and our carpet is soothing,
So that we seem to have a clue of what we're doing,
And instead of resting our ego-bulging heads and choosing to accept,
That we're just not quite, you know, as adept
As we might have thought, we choose to reject and neglect
Our opportunities
In communicative
And interactive discoveries of the beauty
That goes beyond and lies behind that neatly fashioned fringe,
Within.
Love is humble as we are stupid:
We'll see that one wise man has cottoned on, and knows
That even though
He hates that smell that his wife
Adores, he incessantly sprays it lovingly from a canister for the rest of his life.
But he'll never say a word,
Because, from what he's heard,
Truth no longer exists:
In fact, as soon as the larynx allowed the habit of opinions to persist,
It became a frozen entity,
A vague depiction of pure, untampered quality...
A poem I wrote 7 years ago on the back of an envelope in terrible handwriting when I was struggling to sleep.
annh Nov 2020

СНЕГІЅН
what you have;
the sticks and the stones,
the brittle bones and the names
you call yourself out of disappointment,
frustration and contempt. СНЕГІЅН it all; the
rituals and the struggles, the battles lost and won.
Eventually, those positions held so uncompromisingly
will be surrendered, by choice or by chance, to the
nothingness from whence
they came.
W
H
E
T
H
E
|          |          |          |          |  ­        Г          |          |          |          |          |
you are at one or at odds with yourself, whether you like it or not, they are a part of what has made you who you are - informed your choices, shaped your present. Return them to the bedrock of the earth, the ether, or the ocean, if you will; but do so with grace, fond remembrance, and a care for that which lives on within you.

‘I have had to experience so much stupidity, so many vices, so much error, so much nausea, disillusionment and sorrow, just in order to become
a child again and begin anew.’
- Hermann Hesse, Siddhartha
Ryan Bowdish May 2014
When lightning strikes a tree
Sap boils, cells explode, bark strips off into oblivion
And the tree melts, revealing a new form to the cool wind.
When you opened your eyes through the guise of a fading child,
I felt this happen to me.

My heart struck by your thunder, the leaves and ashes
Of my nerves
Blasted away
My DNA peeled away and there in its place lay a new man
Melted into the shape you pounded me into
With vicious eyes and stares that disintegrated injustice
Almost like a new world lived within our gaze.

Somehow, this universe has been opened
Time brought us to this moment. Gravity
Pulled us here. Revealed a blind spot in the folds
Between the atoms and the space from my mouth to yours.

We're like magnets
Like polar reversal
Hanging gardens of universal hope
And a lust for comfort
An insatiable hunger for simplicity
And solace

Uncompromisingly, we surpass the unnecessary and move straight into
The Moments We Wished For.

Closed blinds, wax and oil
Steam rising from the drain
Your hands entwined with my spine
Hair a maze for our fingers

You
Are
A mountain of passionate letters
From kids who thought no one would read them,
Sent through the ears of judges who never looked up at their victims

You were an undeveloped diamond
A sunset that someone polluted
With lies of impurity and worthlessness.

You wanted simply LOVE
A true hand to hold you and show you
That not everything in the world was so hopeless

Well your father may not have been the one to do his ******* job
And get right into all the reasons why you're beautiful so let me be the one
To pick up his slack and change you.

You're a raver with skylines in her eyes
An excuse to roll out of bed with a smile
Seventeen years of pent up compassion
Waiting to be released on some lucky bystander
Someone guilty of desiring you
Of telling you
You can do better.

You were always the one
Before we met
Before we did whatever we could to be in the same room for more
Than just a breath

You may be a dragon, a cougar,
A Jackson Pollack spattered with blood and ***
And anger and years of self-doubt

But I am your new canvas

And right now, I am empty.
And you are overflowing with colors.
I think I may actually be more into you than I thought.
Boris Cho Nov 22
Trust is a fragile thing, and I learned this through the bruises of past relationships. Boundaries were a concept I didn’t recognize, let alone embrace. Throughout my childhood and young adult life, I hadn’t seen trust protected by boundaries; instead, it felt conditional, something that could vanish the moment I made a mistake.

Growing up in a home where my voice was often drowned out, where the lines between safety and fear blurred, I never learned that I had the right to set limits or protect my own space. As a child, I lived in an environment where mistakes felt unforgivable, with my needs and wants taking a back seat to keeping peace or avoiding conflict. That pattern followed me, undetected, into adulthood.

In my past marriage, trust was twisted into something transactional; I gave and gave, bending to make things work, hoping that in sacrificing my needs, I’d somehow earn security. But trust erodes quickly when there’s no boundary to protect it, and by the time we reached the end, it was shattered, scattered in pieces I could barely recognize. Throughout the entire 14-year relationship with my ex-wife, I unknowingly carried the absence of boundaries with me. I tried to be everything I thought a husband and father should be, pouring every ounce of myself into a relationship that quietly depleted me, while she dictated our lives to the smallest detail, and often used them against me. My needs vanished under layers of compromise and concession. Over time, I realized I wasn’t in love with her, but instead tethered by an obligation to uphold the image of a “good husband.”

Boundaries felt selfish; they seemed like walls I wasn’t allowed to build, even as my own well being deteriorated. I had buried my true self beneath the weight of expectations and silent suffering. It took years to realize how damaging that was and how necessary it is to set limits that honor one’s own dignity. After my divorce, I thought love alone would be enough to hold onto trust, but I soon saw how easily trust can be chipped away without boundaries to frame it. It taught me that when boundaries aren’t respected, trust withers, leaving behind only doubt and regret.

I realize now, boundaries are the silent guardians of trust. They keep it intact, protected from the misunderstandings that come when needs go unspoken. When I set boundaries, I’m not only safeguarding my well-being but also inviting others to respect my trust by respecting my limits. Learning to set boundaries has been, in many ways, a journey in rebuilding trust and that boundaries are an act of self-respect. They aren’t barriers to keep people out, but lines that protect the best of who we are. I came to see that in order to show up as a healthy, present father, as a friend, as a partner, and as the person I strive to be, I need to safeguard my energy and my emotional space. Learning to set limits; to tell others where I end and they begin; has been a transformative act of reclaiming myself. I understand now that boundaries are not selfish; they are a declaration of self-worth. I had to understand that without boundaries, trust has no foundation; it’s a vulnerable thing that requires support to stand on my own and they’re about creating a safe space where trust can grow slowly, steadily, and with integrity.

I have come to learn that when I honor my boundaries, I’m rebuilding the foundation of trust in myself. This trust is precious; it’s the belief that I won’t betray my own needs for someone else’s comfort. They’re a promise to myself that I will no longer give away pieces of my peace. And when others respect my boundaries, they earn something rare and valuable; a trust that, this time, feels solid enough to last.

Through my experience, I’ve come to carry three powerful truths about boundaries. First, they are non-negotiable. For too long, I made my needs flexible, prioritizing others over myself. Now, boundaries allow me to define who I am, uncompromisingly. Second, they empower us to say no without guilt or apology. Each ‘no’ is a way of saying ‘yes’ to the life and relationships I deserve. And finally, boundaries are how we honor ourselves and teach others to do the same. They are my compass, helping me navigate life with dignity, pride, and authenticity.

This journey hasn’t been easy. Breaking the patterns of a lifetime can feel like tearing down and rebuilding a house from its foundations. But I’ve learned that setting boundaries isn’t about anger or resentment; it’s about clarity, growth, and love; for myself, for my daughter, and for the relationships I wish to nurture moving forward.



Once there was a quiet garden,
filled with colors bright and wild.
It grew best when lines were honored;
a space for each root, each petal, each stem.

For a time, no borders stood,
and flowers tangled, starved for sun,
their colors dulled, their strength pulled thin,
as vines of one drained life from within.

So a gardener placed small stones around,
not walls, but paths for each to grow;
a space to bloom, freely and alone,
to lift their heads, to stretch and know.

In tending gently to each line,
the garden thrived, each flower freed,
and side by side, they grew in kind,
a beauty held by roots, not need.

Boundaries gave them life that way,
together, yet strong, every day.

— Sincerely, Boris
'Pon this grand Stage we call "Life,"
t'is up to you, and only you,
to be a Character,
or to otherwise sink
into a stagnant state,
being just another Extra.

Which will you choose?
I know I've chosen:
seize what days I have.

You can be banal,
it's easy and unrewarding;
set up for yourself
a mundane Life;
letting each day
pass evermore begrudgingly
as redundant iterations and projections
of your own uninteresting Mind,
or,
you can defy that lull of Life,
you can deviate from the herd
you can be an exquisite piece of Art-
created by the very act of existing,
moderately uncompromisingly,
howsoever that happens to be
that you, alone, desire.

(Anyone seeking so much as to try
to stop, limit or discourage you
is unhealthy for your potential)

Will you find yourself
on the long list
of names so long forgotten,
or will you be
remembered, forevermore,
by thy peers?

Tell me, Self,
I'm curious:
which shall be thy choice:
a Path of a Character,
or that of a mere Extra?

Better still,
because talk is so cheap,
so superfluous:
show me.

Show me.

Show me who you truly are.
I want to be unable to disbelieve.

I refuse to be an Extra
in the story of my own Life.
I refuse to be an Extra
if I have any say in the matter.

Would you?
Do you?
Are you?

Well, show me:
we shall see.
Marshal Gebbie Aug 2022
Spent in terms of patience as excesses , now, abound
Common law and jurisprudence are now no longer sound.
Tribal rule runs rampant in the steel belt of the West
Where raging Trumpists violate, seemingly absolved from arrest.
Democrats wring their hands and bleat, aloud, foul play
Republicans roar with gleeful mirth and veto every say.
The Fat Cats of the oil game rub their hands with glee
With the cost of fuel escalating, to ruinous heights, for thee.
Catastrophic global floods and wildfires rage at large
Fueled by rampant climate change, unchecked now in its charge,
Political expediency, bold power lust and greed
Depict man’s abdication of remedial actions need…
Like Nero we all laugh and fiddle, shrug and fail to learn
Ignoring the collapse as our darling Planet burns.

Russia kills and maims and rapes and bellows it’s demands
Disavowing war crimes as the blood flows from their hands,
Rule book’s out the window, she holds the world at bay
With overt nuclear threatening optimizing Putin’s play.
Regardless of the outcome, Russia is condemned
For the next 10,000 years she will mirror ******’s trend.
Ukraine will arise again, Ukraine shall be secure
But the global condemnation Russia suffers…SHALL ENDURE!

Unlike other nations, China’s plan is long
They map out their objectives in a 500 year old song,
Patience is their virtue, diligence their strength
And little on this planet will deter their competence.
The populace supports their totalitarian regime
And their ascension to Superpower status, is uncompromisingly supreme.
Commercially a powerhouse, with military might
And an ambition to conquer the whole world, as of right.
China’s tentacles reach out through mantles of trade
Extending worldwide in a vast networking blade
USA, Africa, Europe and the East
With a recently conquering infiltrated feast
In thrusting South to the Pacifica Islands, ensnared,
Rendering, startled, fortress Australia, scared
With New Zealand aghast, dithering hither and thither
Leaving them ideologically and economically, ridiculously aquiver??
China weaves her long term fat, greedy spider web
Described, perhaps,as Plumish Pink… than rather Hellish Red!

The voice in the wilderness, howling it’s concern
Roaring it’s objection to the fact WE NEVER LEARN,
Mistakes remade repeatedly, Mankind outstays his hand
At the risk of phased obsequiousness….The timer’s running out of sand!
And time is of the essence here and courage is the key
But the combination’s lethal with our WEAK MENTALITY.
It only takes one tiny phrase, an insult out of place
And that offended nuclear nation suddenly plays their hidden ace….
India and Pakistan, Iran, the Middle East,
North Korea and potentially a remilitarized Japan, may join the feast?
The rampant insecurity found right now across the globe
Shall guarantee a reaction, which is likely to explode.
The cataclysm shall erupt….. WE SHALL CEASE TO BE!!
….Then the rat and the cockroach shall own eternity!


M.
The Voice in the Wilderness
In New Zealand, aquiver.
15 August 2022
Mathew Kohnen Apr 2019
You love completely, uncompromisingly me
You are all about me
You are inside me.
You are the soul of me.
You are the essence of me.
If you let me be
Would I be me
Perhaps it’s time we see
Mathew Kohnen
Marshal Gebbie Mar 2023
Across this world of wide expanse
Of peoples of all hue,
There dwell a breed who call the shots
At best, they're far and few.
Elitists in their chosen field
They lead through halls of wealth,
To wield the club of power
With a callousness and stealth.
Unencumbered by remorse,
Self consciousness or guilt,
They ply their craft implacably
With blades ******, to the hilt.
Nobody treads their path by day
Nor ventures near by night
For fear is the factor plied
Upon those few, who might?

Thuggery by virtue
Of it's purity and strength
Defeats the hand of righteousness
And it's limitation's length.
Influence through wealth and power,
Politics and might,
Ensures the threat of challenge
Is minimized, outright.
Ensures the chance of coup d'état
Is nipped, quite in the bud....
And any hint of a transgression
Indicates you're for the rub.
Control here is the absolute
And menace, the means,
Of town and State and Nationhood
Uncompromisingly...it seems!

Doctoring the syllabuses
Manipulating schools,
Ensuring that the emphasis points
To Strength.... to laugh at fools.
From idolizing sporting stars
Who break the rules at will,
To buying off the referee
To guarantee the ****.
The new Mercedes waiting
Just offstage, there in the wings
All dependent on that chosen
Presentation team that sings?
Back handers at container ports
Consignments sent astray
Narcotics for the Power brokers
Ensures they scoop the day!

Extrapolated to today
Where double standards rate,
Where settlers on the West bank
Of Judea earn the hate....
Of the dispossessed of Palestine
Who are hounded from their land
Whilst the Fat Cats in Washington
Offer Israel, their hand?
Yet, seemingly, duplicitous
That very same Decree
Siphons billions to Ukraine
To prevent mad Russia's hungry spree?
Forgive me the confusion here
For I am, but a man....
But is not this a juxtaposition
Here, Involving land???

Tomorrow's cold betrayal
In yesterday's hot win
Smacks of loss of bold cohesion
And fearful, dabbling in Sin.
Black is to White now
As White is now to Black
And the marginalization
Means there's no going back,
For the die is hard and solid caste
And the future is full clear
That the mania of mankind's
Final ****** demise is near...
That our values are shot to Hell
With the message on the wall
Hallelujah's gone, friend
And there aint no **** recall!

M@Foxglove, Taranaki NZ
3 March 2023
Walter Alter Sep 2023
his heraldic crest
a donger and yarbles rampant
upon a field of green clover
it was a stone slab of course
donated by a few eggheads in exile
his best friends were his *******
shall we redefine the human condition
my guru continued via implication
you are tied to your ******
with many rivers to cross it's all a river
float like a butterfly sting like etc.
his heels had wings goat wings
danced merry on their way to work
there's an idea lurking in here somewhere
from the lurking transcendental government
standing guard between the seen and the unseen
try not to bleed so much kids digitize instead
this is a novelty sing along tune
hooted by two adolescent chimps
nearly inaudible due to the sound of
heavy earth moving machinery
the crowd groaned to get the signal
booed him uncompromisingly off stage
he ran into the gloom of fog and introspection
calling taxi taxi taxi in the rain
played all the frequencies at once
could have led to open rebellion
but instead was hailed a master of definitions
please make of it what you wish
since there is nothing left to do
but go bowling on rockabilly night
while madmen comics kept us ROTFLMAO
with astounding feather and glue tricks
so that his work in the aviary could have
a reaching interplanetary dimension
utterly without consequence whatsoever
the ***** press wouldn't touch it
and retired from the drapery business
it's up to us to steer this sucker
down the Grapevine and find parking
where our epic turns right on Main St.
BBQ skewers swished in the starlight
yes he was a romantic and a romanticist
Pushing the Topic up Through the Earth
was the finally finished pamphlet's title
where this goes on the graph
is anyone's guess
take it line by line
of course it was more fun
not being a running target
I am but an orphan foundling sir

From "Pageant of Naked Mischief" available on Amazon
Yenson Aug 2020
My sanctum revels in its outer forms

visible yet ethereal in known invisibility

dancing in attuned symphony in its surety

demanding uncompromisingly it highest ideal

make best of me from the best of you and then more

for the growth is from find the better enclave to reach extra

what lies enriching in purgatory verses carry venom as wares

fo if me is  found in derogatory purges then find damage and warts

shriveled mind does give forth to lame visions of adroit expose

churning the puddles of sap souls roils in their muddy glares

leaking ossified remnants from heads in rigor mortis

a vacuous release much like a painful boil lanced

dour fundamentals of limits and witlessness

a drain on the afore sagging unused mind

I grow for I seek to show me my worth

from me to me with me and I

we do not hide from ourself

— The End —