Best Blunt Poems


Veggie Blunt

My babies loved the cats,

through the ages of the naps,

in the pages,

in the clasp,

on the floor,

atop a mat,

I pull it out and flip a bat-
let a lover free the band,
so I may rebuttal and unleash some wrath...


Because just one tap on the blacks,
leads a lover to the back,

just like one Cambridge man of the past-
holds a drink,
and chats your gas-
shoots your lore back at the boss-
holds your cross with MS DOS,

dances slow,
without a flirt,

dances slow,
and acts the jerk,

wounds the birds,
with sailing lurch,

corrodes the curbs,
with wheeling verse,

feeling verve-
eats the skirts,

while doing peddles,
and bronzing metals,

mutating meadows,
while racing against yellows,

seasons those fellows pollinating in the bellows-
of an R1 while you're having so much fun...

Being a beast while you're facing the gun,

in the rip of time between going home and burning the buns,

focusing on the fever that got you your lump some.

Hash Blunt

Craggy rats and batty facts,

stupid slaps of morbid hats,

sordid snacks coming out with lacerations of the ax-
horrible hacks doin' these attacks.


I'm loopin' it like rope to attach,

only catch ever is a brat,

lettin' um' off as I scooter around and knack-
I've got so many I'm like 'just laugh'.

Premium Member Blunt Valentine

When it comes to sex appeal, I think you're really cracking,
It's just in style,wit and charm that you are sadly lacking x
© Viv Wigley  Create an image from this poem.


I'D Smoke a Blunt With Willie Nelson

Then again, I'd smoke a blunt with anyone.

Blunt Knife

driven by a painful stain i say yes to 
1/2 empty Bukowski tankards 
full of dusty nothings meanwhile sitting 
in shallow quicksand @ 96 sweaty degrees 
in this emerging limbo 
of rent-per-hour eye blinks 
flicking rusty milagros erecting 
indifferent sentinels to guard 
against a past-due event 
of forgettable magnitude 
breathing as if here but not really 
there feeling all kinda so sharp 
betrayal yet acutely bland as if 
a still deeper black 
could hide the stitches 
if maybe kinda as though 
the pain of being discarded 
could fade to fuzzy 
and not hurt like a blunt knife 
cutting with careless regret 
and lack of purpose

A Blunt

Yo partner let me get a blunt 
Smoking on something strong 
We ain't pulling no stunt 
One puff and you cough something must be wrong 

Grabba that down really nice 
So when you draw you eye be bloody 
Like it really depend on you life 
A tell you this joint will take away you stress and worry

We smoking a pound weed in a day 
Couple bottle a liquor and some sprite 
Keep the weed coming I say
By the end of the night you feel right 

Is the weed me a smoke
Make me feel me a float


Ode To a Blunt Affect

Wind cuts to my feelings of indifference
for my impaired emotionless state
air freezing my facial expression 
glad of the change in environment
but can not seem to express it
living on my own like a hermit
any difference in my normal 
is like water to a dying plant
Eager to spread roots and limbs
and to bask in the warm sun 
It would be a reprieve like a
stay of execution to a convict
But here I lay or sit or stand or pace
doesn't matter which I do or don't
in a drowsy state of mind
befuddled from the medicine 
as much cure as curse
Screaming inside for relief but 
serotonin won't open my mouth 
or form the facial expression
trapped in an alternate reality
not sure if the old one was
really worth letting go of
not sure where to go from here
because I have been down this one before
too many times before I fall flat
either into overwhelming emotions
without medication or not enough
or back in a dull labotimized state of mind
how to go on standing on a double edged sword
the thing that I miss most is 
the thing that can save me 
- inspiration???
words leave my mouth with thought
but no passion involved
leaving friends and family wanting more
but more I can't provide
I feel so inept
I feel so cowardly
I feel so unworthy
I feel so lost in my own mind
Amid all this is the growing concern
I will die lying down without a concern
where I end up afterwards 
- Heaven or hell,
for either will be a welcome relief
from nothing

No Nicer Way Than Being Blunt

Man whore
What's her name
What's her name
It sounds so
Familiar
In ringing ears
You drank too much
Again

Man whore
Whose she
Whose she
And why won't
She leave
Your head's pounding
How do you get
Her out of your bed

Man whore
You didn't mean it
You didn't mean it
You never do
You hope she
Understands
Walks out
And never calls

Blunt Spear

From infancy I was raised to be somebody
To withstand life threatening challenges
Illiteracy, supremacy and poverty 
A blunt spear you me to die in life’s battle field

A spear in a man’s hand lacking skill is futile.
A spear tossed aimlessly is futile
A spear will never be honed by greed
A spear will never poke deception	

You trapped my mind in cage
You tied up my hands with your strings of education
You made me believe, I’m nothing without education
You turned me into a beggar 

I beg food and life necessities from capitalist
Using degrees, diplomas and certificates you name them
You turned me into a clean hobo because I rent a roof over my head
You conned my mind and left me with overrated pieces of papers

Artist, still strive to survive dominance of academic and capitalism 
My art 	they underrated, they aim to kill my talent
My art is sharper than their blunt spear, overrated education
My art is my life, my spear to conquer in life.

Blunt Force Trauma

Tears were absent when I found out
                                   It's a lie is all I could shout
                                The crisis team would disagree
                             Gives me tears that almost blind me

                                 You fell asleep while you drove
                           There were no brake marks on the road
                                They said you had died instantly 
                            Gives me tears that almost blind me 

                           Blunt force trauma, the words that stab
                                Couldn't believe it was my Brad
                                   Then came the harsh reality 
                               Gives me tears that almost blind me 


July 25, 2016

Betise

Blunt brain such stale dogma holds
Tighter than crags hug dewy molds; 
She spurns sparks Reason confers, 
And terms sanest wit profitless fuss. 

Sweetest rank her outmoded views, 
Above strictest sense and full clues; 
Cherished most within inured cloud
Are her trite thought frail and proud. 

Proffer sure-shining cachings of gold
For faintest morsel of heresies retold, 
And she'll a more precious jewel find 
Brighter still under Diablo's airier rind.

Her creed says receive and cede not
Wild bootless notions simpletons got; 
Let benevolent Logic his carats keep, 
And her inane whims have their leap. 

Her wild treasures heavier than lead
Shall endless grace that jaded head, 
Until wilier ticks of blind-mute clocks
Hit Eternal Proof that sees and talks.

Premium Member Blunt Abuse

She pours out her soul in the hopes of not
To be beaten just like the night before
Fear envelopes deep within her thin bones
She prays for rain knowing she will be sore

But often she takes the blunt of the force
To keep her children safe from any harm
There are quiet nights of peace when he’s not drunk
There was a time when she fell for his charm

Now she just hopes her husband isn’t mad
For she knows who will suffer from his pain
She carries the heartache and tearfulness
That is why she always hopes for the rain

There will be a day when she will leave him
She’ll get up the nerve to leave him behind
She will be safe and secure once again
And there will be a sweet man that she’ll find

Contest: "abuse"
Sponsor: Black Eyed Susan

5/7/2013

Corners Blunt and Blue

Corners blunt and blue
a hardened mold to meet
carry baggage seldom seen
a soap box on the street

Borden's white dare to fade
a peddler pulled the page
farmers daughter drawing near
soon to become of age

Streets still hold her beat
in calls that thrill the ear
reached echos and passing feet
smoke has disappeared

Decades do loom and roam
here tomorrow is standing still
memories that found a home
weathered, dustmen mill
© Tim Smith  Create an image from this poem.

Blunt

I've been working on it.
If I were a nib or stylus I'd be worn away.
Sometimes there's
too much space to fill with words,
sometimes there's not enough.
I'm digging my way out
of A Marriam-Webster dictionary.
I hope when I surface
I'll be empty-handed
but a lot sharper.

Too Blunt To Be Stunned

Nails embedded in my 
head.

Nails hammered into 
my coffin.

I am not dead.

Entering heaven 
through the gates.

The flames are rusted.

Metal blazing fires 
dances all around.

I was incorrectly wrong.

This place fumes with 
the poison from hell.

Screams from torture 
sounds the tones to the 
skies.

Drenched in blood.

I have no brain.

My spine was remixed 
and my heart is gone.

Sailing on my back with 
my face to the front.

I am covered with 
terrible pain.

I bare the skin from a 
snake.

I started praying but I 
am too late.

My voice mumbles the 
sentences
where the words are 
fake.

Too blunt to be stunned.

I walked the path of a 
sinner.

This is the beginning.

This is the end to my 
fate.
© Unic Cjonr  Create an image from this poem.

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