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Lemid Lark  Aug 2016
Scissors
Lemid Lark Aug 2016
A cold pair of scissors right next to me
A cold pair of scissors against my skin
A pair of scissors, how cold could they be?
A cold pair of scissors against my chin
A cold pair of scissors brush down my neck
A cold pair of scissors as sharp as swords
Two cold, hard, and sharp lines that intersect
And scrape and grind to make dissonant chords
A cold pair of scissors could end my life
A cold pair of scissors could end my stress
I have no children and I have no wife
Ending my life might just be for the best
I have nothing to live for since she left
I will die; from scissors or a noose I heft
(I'm not suicidal, just an expressive way to let go of some pent-up emotions)
forgive me not Jan 2015
rock,*  paper,  scissors,  shoot

Rock can only weigh paper down,
You are dead weight I lug around,
Paper covers rock constricting,
Excuses, excuses cover your failings,
Paper is too lithe to be broken,
This is breaking me.

Paper can't tear scissors,
Why can't I tear myself away?
Scissors are too sharp,
Our conversations growing dull,
Scissors slice through paper thoughtlessly,
My words sting, cutting you like knives.

Scissors bend and fall apart,
We can't stay together,
Rock always beats scissors,
My insides are black and blue,
Rock is too tough for scissors,
I think we're just too young.

Shoot- go, get it over with, let it end,
Lay down your cards; tell the truth,
What are we still holding on to?
Weigh me down, I'll cut you, we'll cover it up,
Tear me to pieces; slice me to shreds,
In this game, no one wins.

shoot  *me.
Raj Arumugam Feb 2012
1
Snip! Snip!
says the scissors
Ouch! Ouch!
says the paper
Snip! Snip!
says the scissors
Ouch! Ouch!
says the paper

2
Be quiet and still!
says the scissors
It's for your own good

Yeah? says the paper
Have you ever had
anyone cut you up like that?



3
Snip! Snip!
says the scissors
Ouch! Ouch!
says the paper
Snip! Snip!
says the scissors
Ouch! Ouch!
says the paper


4
There, says the scissors
I'm done
Cut you up square and neat
You're a homemade notepad now
ready to be used many times over
than when you were one!


And says the paper:
Oh, you stubborn dumbo!
I'm not for writing -
I'm koi paper
meant for origami!





POSTSCRIPT
Why didn't you tell me?

*I thought you knew
what you were doing
you ****** fool!
Poemasabi Apr 2014
My pants had a hole in the pocket where I carry my keys
and

after a week of picking them up after they had slid down my leg to my right shoe

and another week of carrying them in my left pocket with my phone and glasses transferred to my right
they are too big to fit through the hole
I decided to sew the hole closed

To do this I bought a "sewing kit" at the supermarket
It contained thread, needles, a tape measure printed on tracing paper
that little wire loopy thing that helps you thread the needle
and a pair of ridiculous scissors.

The label "scissors" carries with it certain expectations
Cutting of course
and finger holes that actually fit your fingers

It's like when you order a hot dog
you expect a tube of meat in a longish bun
not a wilted salad between two stale rice cakes

The issue was that these "scissors"
met neither of those expectations
that one has when picking up scissors

They seemed to be stamped out of a new alloy
of aluminum foil
and mylar balloon

The "blades" didn't actually meet
and the holes for fingers
would present an obstacle for any escaping green pea

I did use them and finally
after some sawing
cut the thread

I was going to complain
but thought of who had probably made them
this pair of ridiculous scissors
and pictured

the child or man or woman
in a sweaty factory somewhere
probably hungry

They might work long hours
for meager wages
and

I sit in a comfortable life
and complain about ridiculous scissors
rock smashes scissors
break our swords
Scissors cut paper
tear up our poetry
paper covers rock.
shielded by policy

we have our voices.
all rock, all scissor, all paper.
all spock, all lizard
we do not play games, we Speak.
We throw spock hands like Gang signs
spit parsel tongue at pride haters
we write love letters to revolution
We cut red tape with our long fuzes
Hit rock bottom, more bass in our
Voices than god knows what to do with
So we tell him exactlly where it should go.

Rock Paper Scissors Lizard Spock

They hold their pens like scissors
carving history books into erasure poems

We would swing our pens like swords.
But no leader we trust has been elected yet.

We would have a leader to guide us
But snakeoil salesmen plague our trenches.

There would be no snakeoil salesmen if
we had a stable government

We would have a stable government
but the stability was sharpied out of our history books.

And To history, loud voices sound
like the fires of god.
And are we not the voices with more bass then God knows what to do with.
without words on the wind,
There is no flame
so aren't we fire.

We all have tealights waiting in cold oven hearts.
stone hearths begging for Ignition
eager for bootleg promises of warmth
The orange rhetoric of our future
no warmer than tinders logo.
or a video recording of a fireplace
flickering on a flatscreen at best buy.
We are distracted constantly.
misdirected by Houses of paper cards
origami swans we don't dare unfold
Staying ignorant of the tire track liner inside.
origami swans are so much more beautiful
when they have secrets, right?

I have a matchstick
watch me strike it lit
flare this paper swan into a pheonix.
And hold it in my fist.
there will be fire.
and it will not be a metaphor
But It will be a revolution
And it will be a pheonix
and the pheonix WILL be a metaphor

The Rabbi at Temple Beth El
said when a mans consumed by gods fire
it is a severance from faith, a spiritual death.
what have we done
if not lost faith in our government?
Been consumed by the fires of god.
and why not tattoo pheonix feathers
on our backs?
at least this death gave us warmth.
a home in the world's ashes.

I stared at the dragons fire that stormed towards me
thanked it for the oppurtunity
to walk out of this world
holding dragons eggs
Like Daneris Tygareon
and they will be real dragons.
incubated by REAL fire
despite this crumbling cataclysm
you call a great america.
Spock handed Lizards larger and louder
with all the rocks
paper and scissors they need
to set the world on fire.
To Finally see something beautiful be born.
A Home that keeps them warm.
Rowan Carrick Nov 2010
DO YOU SWEAR NOT TO HURT ME?
Said the scissors to the rock
I  KNOW WE HAVE A HISTORY
BUT I ASSURE I DO NOT MOCK!

The rock looked at the paper
Then he looked back at his feet
I DONT KNOW WHAT TO SAY he said
I THINK YOU'RE REALLY NEAT

The scissors was beside herself
Jumped high into the air
But because she was so gleeful
Snipped off some of paper's hair

So paper screamed and shouted
She was mad with awful rage
And she jumped onto rock's back
As he tried to turn the page

The scissors with confusion
Felt to blame and so she rushed
To try and help the rock
In the process getting crushed

And so the rock got still
Lying covered by the sheet
When paper realized what she'd done
She fluttered to rock's feet

And cried and cried and sobbed
And stared at her split ends

And paper rock and scissors
Would never become friends.
Carrick 2010: Children's Poems
Tatiana  Nov 2014
Scissors
Tatiana Nov 2014
I have a scary image in my head
every time I glance in the mirror now.
Days have gone by and I don't stop staring.
I mumble, forming my thoughts into words
as I glare at the image before me.
Then my words become louder, and I keep
slowly leaning forwards, but I won't bow.
I inspect my hair, piece by piece, I pull
at the split ends that look really awful.
I used to like my hair, it was pretty,
but those scissors there, that rest on the sink,
have never looked so inviting before.
How easy it would be to cut my hair,
the long strands that they all claim to be fair,
just take the scissors and cut your **** hair!
Just take the scissors and cut your **** hair!
But there is something that still keeps me here,
I won't cut it, because I think I'd care.
*Just take the scissors and cut your **** hair.
Poetic T Mar 2021
This is mostly based on the true-ish happenings of
Beth Huges was born in the 80s, her parents
called her Lizzy for short well that would explain
a few things. Her upbringing was more in the 70s
then the 80s. Her parents were new-age hippies but
with the chemical abuse of the 80s.

They were vegans, nothing on land was to be sacrificed
for the fulfillment of their needing only organic substitutes.
  They'd eat from the Ocean as that was the well of life
and always giving and in a continuous replenishment cycle.

Not knowing, she was repeatedly dosed with LSD.
to open the spiritual aspects. But Daddy had a bad trip.
            And wore mummies face saying she was
talking through him.

The cops didn't see that way and vented his body with
                           at least nine new breathing holes...
She was still high as daddies blood spayed over her and
she finger painted on the floor.

She'd lived with relatives but this didn't last long as they
were meat-eaters and she had a vast disdain for all who
murdered and disfigured the life of the land.
   Her auntie was a vegan, so realized the pressures.
   But as she got into her older years having episodes.
of repressed trips. Glaring at the walls and painting in
her own blood.
It hit a moment in her twenties when she caught
her auntie giving head to her new boyfriend..

She was disgusted as she heard her call it "the meat,
             distrustful of her auntie and she'd desecrated
the law of her body, after she pleaded no meat.

While her auntie was being contaminated she put
sleeping tablets into their drinks after the *****
inducing acts had finished and she came out of
the room wiping her mouth.

                     "Here guys I made you a drink,

She played it cool reading a book until they
fell unconscious. She was reprehensible that
                   what was being done was right.
Pulling down his joggers she got some
scissors and grabbed it, momentary she put
it in her mouth, it was soft and she felt a sturring
and gagged... with one fatal swipe she cut it off.
throwing this maggot in the fire, Burn filth...
Her auntie lied there silent, her breath deep.

"How could you,

Even though she has momentarily engaged in
                pleasures of the flesh.

She went into the cupboard and found a cleaner,
             the warning on the side said corrosive
wear gloves.

She stroked her aunties hair and then tipped the
entire bottle down her throat to clean the desecration
from her.
All that was heard was a curdling and then froth
expelling from her nostrils and mouth...
She got a cloth and wiped her mouth, even though
doing this had murdered her auntie, she still loved her.
Now she was clean from the manmade contamination.
    Pure once more, the acid mixed with her stomach acid
creating a pungent smell as it was eating through her side.

A pool of blood and partly digested food bubbled
on the floor, it started to eat through the laminate flooring.
At that very moment, she heard screaming incoming on
her kneeled position.
As she turned she saw the half-naked bleeding profusely boyfriend. In his anger, he never saw the pool of corrosive remanence of his departed girlfriend.

Scissors raised and ready for vengeance, he lurched
losing his balance and landed face down in the
bubbling maroon stench.
Lizy scrambled to her feet, ready to run.
Instead, she screamed as he got up and turned around.
The flesh was peeling off, as he grabbed at his now dissolving
features. The shock was too much as she passed out.
A while had passed and as she awoke she went to move
but the scissors were interred in her hair.
Her scalp felt wet, as she touched the area, red liquid coated
shaking hands. She put her fingers in her mouth and tasted,
yes, it was her blood. she pulled at the scissors and they
wouldn't dislodge as they were firmly embedded in the
laminate flooring.

She had no other option but to yank her hair out,
******* that hurt, she had a blad patch where
the hair follicles had pulled away.
Her head spinning, but as she turned around there
he was still, his face no more just white, with patches
of blood his hands around his throat.

She got a hand towel and threw it over his featureless
remanence, and then saw the disemboweled auntie.
If it wasn't for the middle missing dissolved all over the
floor, you'd think she was sleeping.

Lizzy had to think fast, how could she get out of this?
But it was easy, she'd heard shouting and saw her
auntie come out with scissors, soon after her boyfriend
came out blooded, she saw me and told me to hide.
As I watched he grabbed her dragging her to the
cupboard unscrewing a bottle with his mouth,
then pouring it down the struggling auties mouth
at that moment I ran at him pushing him away as her  
auntie convulsing. We struggled but he was too strong.

It was at that moment he grabbed the scissors lifting me up,
he lost his balance and that the last I remember before waking
up with my hair pinned to the floor by the scissors.

The flashing lights were so bright in the darkness as I was huddling it to the waiting ambulance.
Crocodile tears poured from my eyes.
I told my story, it was worthy of an Oscar.
There on the stage, thanking the gullible audience.

As I walked from the courthouse, tears flowing thanking
everyone for their condolences and wishing me well.

I looked in the mirror as I saw my aunties face,
wearing it like my daddy wore mummies.
sprinting at the policeman at the door I got him
in the neck. Shots echoing out into the dark night.

They must have been alerted by the screaming,
can't people just die quietly? I ran into the night.
Not been found yet, but I kept the scissors.

I go after men now, I'm quite pretty for being so
crazy. I offer them ****** favours for drinks,
I always make sure they have a car, that's a must.
My favourite trick is getting them to drive to a secluded
spot offering them head-on their bonnet.
somewhere we will not be disturbed.

It's amazing how gullible men are when they think with
there meat instead of there brain.
I found this awesome pen that's a tasar, telling them
I'm leaving my signature and number, so if they liked it
they knew where to look if they wanted more fun.
Its quite funny the gurgling scream they make when
you zap their ball bags, they crumble like wet paper.

Kind of pathetic really.  Now we alone and there quite,
snip, snip some do take two chops you know.
Then into the woods or the dirt side of the road.
But I learnt from my first time, cut the femoral attire
in the leg, that way they stay down some did come to
but a was driving away by then I heard their
screams and I smiled. Of to the next town now I think
Driving while its dark is better I sell their belongings
in a pawn shop to raise money the dead cant report
their belongings stolen after all. I just tell them there
my ex. They don't really care about where it came from.

I like my new  hobby, at last count I'd snipped fourteen
of them and I still have my auntie with me I wear her
sometimes just to feel close to her.
her pa
madison curran Aug 2021
I’ve spent twenty three years at war,
so when he looks at me,
he doesn’t ask why I haven’t gotten up off the floor,
doesn’t know that I’ve played this game before,
and I choose paper,
specifically the paper I used to write my first poem,
the piece of paper where I drew love out in hieroglyphics,
carved constellations into the page,
I think I first learned to make pain sound beautiful when I took your broken fragments and built a church with my bare palms,
I think it was around the time
I picked up the pen,
so I haven’t picked one up since.
they always say it’s such a shame,
but love to me is a shattered domain,
and this world is still ill prepared to swallow the pain.
decoding my feelings,
I’ve spent a lifetime baptized in shame.

I choose paper,
specifically the paper that declared my parents love,
and the one 12 years later that made the former a will that left me in possession of a starless sky,
an enigma, but still I never asked why.
left me in possession of all these matches,
with nothing to burn but my own flesh,
from what I’ve learned from love, I wouldn’t expect anything less.
there isn’t a map on the surface of this earth that could tell you where love lives in this body,
and if there was I’d use it as a my weapon in this game.
strike a match to its skin,
so even if there was,
you’d never be able to find it again.
put its ashes in a frame,
trust me,
no pair of scissors will ever damage your life quite the same.

I choose paper,
specifically the anatomy of every card sent to me with love,
because each one was as empty as the wine bottles in my closet,
each name signed marks a grave where I buried a part of me,
nailed myself to the cross,
just so other people could find meaning in my pain.
oh to be a saviour for the shattered,
still over and over again,
I found my heart slain.
I still don’t understand what there was to gain,
told that story on a 8.5x11 sheet,
and I’ve never seen a rock carry the same amount of defeat.

rock, paper, scissors
I explain this game resembles my insides, broken at its core.
rock, paper, scissors
like clockwork,my opponent heads for the door.
rock, paper, scissors,
don’t worry, from my eyes, you’ll never catch a drop pour.
I told you,
I’ve lost this game one too many times before.
Rock, paper, scissors...SHOOT!
Throw me your play, right on your cue,
Rock, paper, scissors... shoot!
A rock on my palm and a paper on you.
And paper beats rock, and so I guess it's true.
Like when your gentle parchment soul,
Washed over my heart of colored coal.
And as your sweet touch enveloped me,
I knew I wanted it, and needed more.

Rock, paper, scissors...shoot.
A paper in your hand, to soothe my wary roots.
Permanent ink is marked on my skin,
and it coursed through my veins and in my mind it lived.
But once I was of marble stone, I am a prey to shatter,
Until you coverd me, that I realized I mattered.
That maybe paper doesn't beat rock by concealing it,
It protects it from the harm of any waiting scissors.

Rock, paper, scissors...shoot!
I fear for the day, you have a scissors on you.
Cut me not, break me never.
I wish never to be your target to sever.
I have your words on my skin, they're a strength that I have.
Please don't take them back, by cutting me in half.

And what hard stone that I may be,
darling, I implore you to see---
You're my paper, you never defeated me,
You became my sword, when I stood wary.
Could you, perhaps, touch the irony
Of the rock and paper and scissor trilogy.
For when stone stood hard and still,
It fused it's strength and broke at will,
Like feather, her softness had her filled.
And while her paper, lies flat and still as death,
It surpassed the power of a sword's strength.

Rock, paper, scissors...shoot,
a rock for me, and a paper for you,
and I'll embrace you, and in all your strength
my everything you've endured.
Em Glass  Dec 2013
little screws
Em Glass Dec 2013
Absentminded speech.
You had taken the scissors from the basket
in the darkroom, they were just
still in your hands, the ones
not covered in rust.

It was absentminded, that part
is important. Just absentminded,
like the way you'd play
with her hair or pretend not
to care,
like the way you'd talk with
your hands even when the
darkness spoke louder. The way
you'd nudge me, a "don't move"
elbow, to let me know you'd
dropped your film and I shouldn't
step for fear of stepping on it
like the shadows did.

I absentmindedly twirled a pen,
and you absentmindedly looked
down again and again,
scissors open, scissors closed,
running your fingers over
the little ***** between the blades
as I ran my fingers
over a little ink drawing I'd made.

You absentmindedly followed
my eyes with your own, and then
threw absentminded to the smoke,
up and out the window and gone,
and the smooth blade up and down
your arm.
It wasn't sharp. It couldn't even
cut the film. That's how you'd
dropped it in the first place.

Still watching my eyes, my dawning worry.
Oh, you. Ignorance reduced me
to child and pity before your
knowing eyes, but what do.
You know me, I know you.

A deliberate story now (absentminded
can't be filtered out of the smoke anymore),
of a girl you used to know.
Something to do with little screws
in every pocket of every
long-sleeved shirt she owned.
They had to be from something cheaper,
you mused. Mindedly.
Scissors don't come in bulk.
Little screws. Not razors, not knives.
Little screws.
You thought out loud, but it wasn't
thought. It was speech. It was
words you already knew.
Where'd they all come from?
You asked questions to give me
the answers.

I reached out for those ****
bright green plastic scissors
that wouldn't cut a piece
of film in a darkroom, because
fear gives light great powers.
You smiled at the anxiety in my
eyes. You chose then to stumble
upon the answer. (It wasn't scissors.)
To relieve me, you meant.You
meant to share without telling,
to lighten my head and dissipate
the ignorance like your
absentminded smoke.
You knew a girl...

But when you put knowledge
in this mind it gets picked up
and circled around and around,
centripetal acceleration, exponentially
flying, so fast, so high, what do I
do with it there. I build it up.
It tears me down.

I scanned your wrists for months.
I watched you pull your wallet out
of your pocket, checking the floor for
little screws.

You knew, ******. You knew
your wrists would stay smooth
as a scissor blade, smooth as
darkness. You gave me the story
deliberately, but you gave me the
answer absentmindedly.

You didn't mean to.
You gave me the worry,
you gave me the thought.

You didn't tell me where to find
a ******* screwdriver.
umi kara Jan 2016
i slept with scissors on my bed
just to see.
to wake up in a new cut.
just to see
if danger is a true concept
if a surprise is something real.

i did sleep with scissors on my bed
because i have a tendency to move around a lot;
just to see
if the blade would try to kiss my rib
to quiet me down;

just to see
if fire really burns;
just to see
if what runs inside my veins
hasn't disappeared yet.
what i saw
was that it is better to sleep with scissors
than to wake up by my own.

— The End —