"knifes" poems
Day burns down to night,
Burns the edge of my soul.
In the night I break into sparks of suns
and become fires in a dust of bones.
Night knifes. My breath swallows whole my tongue.
Turn back Reverse return,
In the night I see the real,
Concealed in the day's bright lie.
Eyes stitched shut. White teeth smile.
Sleep walk...s and talks
And feet mark time of day
[From the movie, 'The Invisible']
Feb 21, 2017
Feb 21, 2017 at 12:33 PM UTC
Your soft skin is tearing,
Your voice is cracking, trying to sing.
Your hands are shaking, cold chillings runs down your spine.
No escape,
No place to hide.
Inside, you're dying, fighting for the smallest sliver of hope.
You died in that cocoon, you never became a butterfly.
Knifes are ordinairy now, you know them all too well.
As they cut and damage your resolve, you suddenly know it and it occurs to you...
Death is coming for you, it talks, whispers even:
''Go back to sleep my child, you've sufferd enough...''
May 10, 2015
May 10, 2015 at 1:02 PM UTC
In the time between the worlds feuds
A mighty crash left our country subdued
Infertility plagued the land
While everyone put out their hungry hand.
People so fragile, plunged to their death
Not even taking a second to hold their breath
Women were forced to give up inside life
Turning to coat hangers, instead of surgical knifes.
While many men turned to a homemade noose
To be found in a closet by those they would lose.
Thursday became known as a blackened date
As a reminder of countries’ terrible fate.
Jan 1, 2014
Jan 1, 2014 at 5:37 PM UTC
Black blueberries buttoned by *****
Black blueberries buttoned by *****
This wasn't yours to loose
Nothing was yours to loose
Black blueberries backed by bench men
Bench men that sit on side lines
Thinking
When will the golden moment be
To break through; proving themselves
Worthy of the benched boxes they be in
Everyday
Because
They believe in benevolence
Black blueberries busting through my *****
Black blueberries busting through my *****
Better than bullets
Better than bullets
Better than bombs and turrets
Better than ballistic knifes and skillets
And arsenals of ignorance bettered with bills
Bills I pay to ensure my life is ready to die
Is it a matter of our collective thoughts?
Those black blueberries are buried
And not because I am becoming a black blueberry I say this
But because life begins with black blueberries
Who all turn into nothing but pale *****
All conformed
Not to natural laws
But to the cognitive bacterial infection
Called education
Turning us to blue blueberries
Blue blueberries
And grand building bannered with ********
Black blueberries are bored
Black blueberries are right
Black blueberries are always right…
Apr 30, 2013
Apr 30, 2013 at 1:27 PM UTC
Let's Hold Up Our Glasses And Make A Toast
Here's To The Liars,
The Cheaters,
The Hatrers,
And The Women Beaters
Here's To The Feet Draggers,
Body Baggers,
The Backstabbers,
And The Joint Draggers
Here's To The DUI Kills,
People Tryin To Keep It "Trill",
People Who Don't Reach To Pay The Bill,
And To The People Who Need A Refill
Here's To The Governments Killing Their Own,
Here's To Telemarketers Who Blow Up My Phone,
To The People In My Life Who Keep Breaking Me,
To That One Boy With A Heart Cold As Stone
Here's To The Chemistry Tests,
Being Enternally Upset,
Enternally Recked,
Here's To The People Who Scream In My Face
Here's To All The Pain,
Heres To The Knifes Which Have Cut A Vein,
To All The Guys Who Just Wanna Piece Of ***
Heres To All The People I Dread In My Math Class
As You Can See.. I'm Not Even Holding A Glass
Dec 14, 2012
Dec 14, 2012 at 8:43 AM UTC
Hearing your voice puts knifes in my heart
You'd think by now the knife would be dull
But it reopens the wounds as easy as ever
These scars are never to heal
Hearing your voice makes my blood pulse
The new wounds bleed faster
You'd think I'd never forget this pain
But every time it feels just as bad
This blood will stain me forever
Hearing your voice makes my breath short
My vision goes black
You'd think I'd wake up feeling confused
But I remember it clearly;
Your voice took my breath for good
Mar 30, 2015
Mar 30, 2015 at 7:22 PM UTC
I was young. A girl of just 13 when my life was taken away from me.
He was a leader to me and someone I trusted deeply. But when doors were closed and rooms were dark, he was a demon.
He took little pieces of me away. My sanity, my trust, my everything.
No one knew what he was doing but neither did I. I was young and naive. Always trusting someone.
All I could do was feel trapped as he touched my innocent tiny body. Touched all the parts that he shouldn't have. Parts that were mine and mine only.
I felt trapped and suffocated over the months it accured. I felt more and more disturbed and felt like this wasn't right.
My mother told me to say out loud if things like this happened.
But I couldn't.
I would disappoint her. So I lashed out at him. It was sudden anger and trapping myself in my room for him to stay away. Countless knifes littered my room if he ever forced himself on me.
That little girl disappeared with his hands.
And to this day he is still in the family. The demon I am forced to consider my father.
No one knows.
Not that I would ever tell them.
Dec 15, 2018
Dec 15, 2018 at 3:18 AM UTC
We are the forgotten ones
The ones who can articulate
beyond the guns and knifes.
We don't need a beat
Our word flow through emotionally.
We are here to capture and decipher minds
Teach them all those things school has left behind
How history is only written by the victor
How there's more to blacks than Rosa Parks, Malcolm X and Martin Luther King Jr's his..tory.
Let's not leave out the truth.
Poets stand up, fight for the youth.
We share our truth about love
Let's share the truth about knowledge
Forget the cliches of if life gives you lemons make lemonade.
We freed ourselves from the British.
Then enslaved Africa and made them forget who they were.
Only of Britain would had thought of that first.
Let's not sugar coat the past
Let's control the present and the future.
Poets stand up
We are the symphonies of hip hop, rap and r&b;
We are the class.
We are the Billy Holliday and Marvin Gay of this new era.
Like the fitted cap we fit snugg.
Poets stand up.
**** speaking on unicorns and rainbows
The sunny side of the chi.
Just last night my Lil man's got shot by the cops.
I use to say he was my son
Now I plan his funeral with his mom.
Poets stand up
Bloods, crips, gangsters, thugs re unite as the black panthers.
Poets stand up!
Poets stand up!
As they say ok ok your 15 seconds of fame Is up. No more from you today Mr. Ananymous.
Oct 23, 2014
Oct 23, 2014 at 5:57 PM UTC
Words are beautiful demons
Real magic
Sometimes black, every time light
Dark light
Bright light
Light it is
Daemons are as luminous as angels
Sharp knifes
An opera
Sometimes a smile.
Mar 7, 2016
Mar 7, 2016 at 7:51 AM UTC
You were a friend to the end but the urge to
do it finally closed myeyes, when I opened
them yourlife had ebbed away. Just silence
which cleansed the screams away.
I knew what I had to do, I had thetools ready
to do those unspeakable things to you, but never
worry your not here any more just a cadaver
that will soon be in pieces all over my floor.
I use my knife cut you from throat to your *******
whoops I just chopped of your meat and veg ****
it you don't need them any more. I play with
your ribs blood once warm now cold in my hands.
I think of a xylophone as I tap the knifes, dull noises
but they sound like musical notes, I smirk and laugh
a bit thinking of what you would think, as I play
musical notes down on your ribs and laugh some more.
I take your heart, it slips on to the floor, ok mate it
slipped from my hands, don't look like that you don't
need it anymore. I unravel your intestines as they unravel
over the floor, reminds me of spaghetti just needs meat *****
I have played enough, parts of you on me, I tasted part
of your liver like Hannibal lecture, I wish I could tell you
this but it tastes like horse.
I cut patches from your back, parchment a canvas of
skin so I draw, blood is my paint as I draw a skull,
then a dove you are free like the bird, no pain or
fear any more.
I feel no regret, you were a friend, but I use your
blood for hand print pictures on my wall as I
put it on my face on my chest. I write I am the killer
and now I am complete the circle of life is complete
as I get the knife and move it across then I paint
with my blood now across the walls.
I feel tired, but I am in a red sea of peace the room
once white now red is painted on the walls. I think
of what I have done, I cant help who I am no one could
have changed me I've done what I have done I'm at
peace now slumped on the floor.
May 27, 2014
May 27, 2014 at 5:22 PM UTC
Remember, Christ loves you more then you will ever know.
Remember, once you receive the Helper you receive true Power.
Not Power like the worldly gains, but true Power from the Helper.
For the Helper is the Spirit of God also known as the Holy Spirit.
The Holy Spirit gives you protection over being hit by a vehicle.
Also it keeps you from dying from poison, bullets, and knifes.
For the Holy Spirit and your Spirit becomes one Spirit within you.
So Christ is keeping you alive until your Purpose has been fulfilled.
The Holy Spirit helps you with so much more as well as saving you.
Aug 21, 2014
Aug 21, 2014 at 3:05 PM UTC
You filled your skin with sharp lead and your arms with cigaret burns, without any screams, but with the blue mass that touched your cheeks. You used to think, that to put on a massiv amount of black eyeliner, would hide the fact, that you couldn't sleep at night. And you used to think that starving yourself, would make you feel just a little bit better about who you were, but all you ended up with was a stomach you could fit your hands around, collar bones that stuck far out from your skin, so they could break at anytime and your hipbones were like knifes, that could slice a man open. You used to do and think so many stupid things, and you were just this little self-conscious girl that needed to be loved and accepted by someone. That little girl is still inside you, but you have learnt to control her and say no when she wants to play.
Sep 23, 2016
Sep 23, 2016 at 7:46 AM UTC
*The knifes are in the water,
there below, just beneath your feet.
The river flows with blood
of the sweetest innocents.
A mermaid escaping up stream,
against the current of the most importance.
So, where does this bottomless journey end?
This lost channel of endless hoping.
Two bodies of water,
intertwining into the everlasting waterfall.
A voyage down the rapids,
Falling...
Falling...
Falling...
Falling...
Down into the pits...There just below the waters.
Where I can rest my weary head.
Fin.
*
Dec 8, 2012
Dec 8, 2012 at 2:39 AM UTC
This one is for my pretty girls
For the girls who count calories
And tell their friends they aren’t hungry
So they can see their pretty bones
This one is for my pretty girls
The girls who sit shaking on their bathroom floors
With pain in their hearts and knifes in their hands
So they paint pretty marks on themselves
This one is for my pretty girls
Those who were born boys
And get slammed into lockers and yelled slurs at
Yet still try their hardest to be
One of the pretty girls they’re meant to be
This one is for my pretty girls
The ones who always looks uncomfortable in class
Sitting by the man who makes them queasy
So they don’t make a pretty fuss
This one is for my pretty girls
Who sneak out to pride parades
And ignore the word *** tattooed into their binders
So they could love other pretty girls
This one is for my pretty girls
Whose arms flinch when grabbed
And bodies shudder when voices raise
So they can be daddy’s pretty girl
This one is for my pretty girls
Who don’t talk about after parties
And don’t tell their friends or parents
So they aren’t called pretty little *****
This one is for my pretty girls
The ones who tempt fate and take pills
Take jokes about hating themselves too far
So they can try and get their pretty sleep
This one is for my pretty girls
The ones who cry out when they need help
But no one answers because no one hears them
And they can’t speak
And they can’t breathe
And there’s tears rolling down their cheeks
But they do nothing
This one is for my broken girls
My girls like me
This one is for my strong girls
My girls that haven’t given up
This one is for the pretty girls
My beautiful, beautiful girls
Aug 28, 2018
Aug 28, 2018 at 3:45 PM UTC
he speaks with blades between his teeth
unsteady of what to say
fear he will hurt her
his tongue as a flame, spitting fire in her lungs
everything he does,
a mistake that can't be undone
with knifes on his lips
each word they slip
falling down to her body.
where she takes the hit.
she lays there amongst every
weapon from his mouth
knifes, blades. fire
but the worst one is the gun
he speaks words that will shoot through her heart
and once again
she simply
falls
apart...
he beats her with his words
but his hands remain still
his touch is gentle
his heart is just ill
he needs his flower to teach him to grow
a love like hers
is all he has ever known.
she wraps her vines around his mind
trying to calm the beast inside..
as the flowers grow
peace fills him up high
he finds his security
in the love she provides
a love like this?.. will NEVER die
Jul 7, 2015
Jul 7, 2015 at 11:56 PM UTC
So long and overdue,
The time starting askew,
Everything reversing to previous,
Views of simply devious,
Creatures of the night,
Time is now plight,
Prepare the cold grounds,
Enemies scorn those around,
It is those weak,
Who will soon peak,
Top of the charts,
Of deaths new art,
Headless gutless warriors attest,
Really trying their best,
To survive and ****
It takes much skill,
To stomach the pain,
Not letting your brain,
See what is on,
You are a pawn,
A game called chess,
Your turn to address,
The move to take,
Decipher who is fake,
And who is real,
Background their a deal,
Waiting to be made,
By Bankers being overpaid,
While people being honest,
Will all soon protest,
If not soon enough,
It will be tough,
To stop an army,
Of ignorance will be,
Those who are controlled,
Many do as told,
What now lies ahead,
Civil obedience mindless dead,
Wandering the empty streets,
Looking for minor threats,
Yelling terrorist every corner,
More for the coroner,
Those who lived free,
In debt free society,
People traded not sold,
Their time being told,
To live meaningless life,
Throats pressed by knifes,
Told to live right,
According to someone bright,
As pile high ****
Being full of it,
This right that wrong,
What happened came along,
In form of kids,
Passed to more kids,
Information of all lies,
Except select few hide,
Snickering as we die,
Keeping everyone under control,
Knowing what is foretold,
Is mostly not know,
Minds are closely sewn,
Together with simple lies,
Mostly ignored but disguised,
As nothing but truth,
Just another common sleuth,
Slipping between the cracks,
Not aware to react,
Used to being told,
Not to stand bold,
Against what is done,
We are of one,
United States of Dumb,
Easily manipulated fat popularity,
Contest of egocentric masculinity,
Where everyone has problems,
None actual solves them,
Differences made to keep,
Everyone nice and neat,
Happy competitive argumentative discouraged,
Four bowls of porridge,
Hot cold just right,
Fourth not in sight,
In another hidden room,
Your name on tomb
Jun 5, 2010
Jun 5, 2010 at 7:33 PM UTC
the muse of nature revels
in the cradle of a loved one’s whisper
the salsa of wind knifes off rock and
spreads melting sand into stained glass
a rainbow loops out the ears
and croons the rain into a gentle patter
the indefinite bruises the back of the throat
as half-notes are woven into air—
silence forever dreaming of music
Mar 6, 2018
Mar 6, 2018 at 12:53 PM UTC
I am not yet defiled; O hear me.
Let not the crazed hornets or serpents or ophidian or the
buzzard bee come near me.
I am not yet defiled; console me.
I fear that the snake charmer may with rhythmic body clocks clock me,
with predatory hissing paralyze me, with authoritative power anger me,
on wicker constraints constrain me, in bamboo-patches pierce me.
I am not yet defiled; provide me
With beauty to free me, dressage to cover me, silence to come
to me, souls to save me, charmers and angels
in my wandering existence seeking fights to waver the war within me.
I am not yet defiled; forgive me
For the provocative glances in me, my presence when womanity holds me,
my mythological beauty by deities beyond me,
my head held high when they slay by means of my
crossbow, my addiction when they poison me.
I am not yet defiled; rehearse me
In the dreams and the prayers I must take when
art interrupts me, material disturbs me, splintered souls
gaze at me, smiles fade at me, the knifes edge
stains me and everlasting scars pain
me to shame and the shames taints
my skin and my heart abandons me.
I am not yet defiled; O hear me,
Let not Perseus who is warrior or who thinks he is King
or a rival to me.
I am not yet defiled; O fill me
With gasoline against those who would inhabit my
bones, would sink me into empty caverns,
would make me a prisoner locked, a monster with
blood dripping, a monster, and a passer of dis-ease
who would execute my self, would
flush me like ***** oozing and
***** and ooze and *****
like alcohol seeping in the
pores would drown me.
Let Poseidan not make me defiled and let him not **** me.
Otherwise **** me.
© Sia Jane
Nov 17, 2014
Nov 17, 2014 at 7:38 PM UTC
With nails in hand,
As sharp as knifes, reflecting the dim light of a lamp from the ceiling.
A thought rushing through my head, no actions follow.
Hollow, is the lamp which is about to go out soon enough
Hollow, it is when no body is around and when people gather.
It doesn't matter, not its surroundings, not its use, it remains the same
Without ever changing, wether shining or not it is hollow.
Nails, as sharp as little knifes, could pierce through it carelessly
It wouldn't matter, it would remain the same, it would be hollow.
The difference, relies in the possibility of it not being able to shine
Shine out the light, which people are desiring to have in this room.
It simply would be thrown away, replaced and forgotten.
And it wouldn't be questioned, what the nail had done it for.
Overseen, the lamp remains the same after all.
Hollow
~ Umi
Feb 25, 2018
Feb 25, 2018 at 4:24 PM UTC
certain touches go through me like knifes and I can't look you in the eyes but I'm just like you I bleed red and my eyes are blue I just see the world In a different view but that doesn't mean I can't feel too epathy is different for me I feel it and I know it but I don't know how to show it I am like a square peg trying to fit into a round hole but blending in is good for my soul the sounds of life make me cringe that is when I become unhinged can't filter out vioces choose my own choices I wish there was a way to show people I still care and even if you don't see me in a crowd I am still there
Jun 6, 2015
Jun 6, 2015 at 1:54 PM UTC
It takes about
two hours
to make it through
airport security
nowadays.
If they catch you with
a pair of nail clippers
they beat you
with a rubber hose
in the back room.
Yet in every terminal Ive been in
they sell ceramic mugs.
You ever broke a ceramic mug?
That **** is crazy sharp.
I mean they make those Japanese
super sharp chefs knifes outta the ****
And I cant bring a ******
disposable razor with me.
Security my ***
Jun 19, 2012
Jun 19, 2012 at 7:27 AM UTC
Poetry erupts from my tongue
A mountain of words
Too tall for me to climb
The air is filling my lungs
And I'm inhaling the beauty
Of symphonies and metaphors
Stirring memories together
Of a firm chest and rhythmic heartbeat
Strong, unruly, erratic
Like my feelings for you
It's a feeling that hits forcefully
A tsunami, flooding my chest
The butterflies are set free again
Wings flutter wildly, a frenzied panic
A harsh wind knocks me to the ground
Here, my glass heart finally shatters
A million shards that cut like knifes
Leaving wounds only you could heal
I am a cascade of emotions
I think I'm in love again.
Sep 13, 2014
Sep 13, 2014 at 1:35 PM UTC
She had a tongue that could open a wine bottle.
Razor-sharp articulation.
A fine art, some might say.
Living sentences on a knifes-edge.
It started in a unblunted manner,
The force hit smacked splintered minds like a hammer.
Honed in cuspate motions,
Incisively smashing the nail on the head.
She wasn’t wrong often.
Vivacious wit vivid oscillating witch,
some might say.
Not I.
I followed in the downstream of her resonance.
A quivering wreck,
soaked from head to toe in her libretto.
She marched in stilettos,
locomotive tip-toe motion,
devotion to the traverse.
Deviating as s he ambulated across lurid cobbled paths.
How she manages, alas.
Evades my comprehension.
She had this brunt agitation,
as if,
she couldn’t hear the words you say to her.
Maybe it was her nescient nature.
A think naive conversant,
If only it was that simple.
Those dimples on her cheeks were like craters in the moon.
That cheesy laugh fractures.
She escaped from Alcatraz,
Caught only by the dereliction,
of her minds conviction.
Infamy lapsed,
as she collapsed in a pretzel of marvellous contortion.
She radiantly turned to stone,
a statuesque stanza.
Cloned in allure,
that never found answers she was looking for.
Dec 16, 2015
Dec 16, 2015 at 4:50 AM UTC
This people made a way trough my mind,
To whom this heart cannot deny to bind;
They dry the tears that fall from my eyes.
They bring me sunshine to brighten my skies;
They rescue me from my loneliness,
And make me walk the trails of holiness;
They are the home where I'm, the field where I play.
I hope the rapid smiles alway stay!
I run through life without care,
My world, they repair;
They added the positive element to my life,
While the world was showing knifes;
Best friends stick together till the end,
They are like a straight line that will not bend.
They can be your hero and save the day,
They will never leave your side they are here to stay.
They help you up when you fall,
Your true friends are best of all.
They are my boon companion,
Without them I move at random
Aug 8, 2014
Aug 8, 2014 at 4:18 AM UTC
White
Coming down in soft flakes,
Melting on my toung
Beautiful for such a short time.
Floating down blissfully
Waiting to land,
Landing,
Softly being crushed under my boots.
As I walk up the hill to go sledding.
As I zip down the hill,
Snow getting in my eyes,
My cheeks red and burning,
Being cut by a million tiny knifes.
Going over a jump and,
"catching air"
The wind is knocked out of me as I land
Reaching the bottom,
Disipointment at how short the ride is.
Going inside to sit on the couch eating popcorn and drinking cocoa.
Watching to snow flutter down out side.
Thinking about what it is like,
To be a snowflake.
To be created high uo in the clouds,
A beautiful piece of ice crystle.
To small to be marveled at
Only to float blissfully to the ground,
To be crumpled up by a boot.
On its way up a hill to sled.
To be flattend by a sled,
As it zooms down the hill,
Hitting a bump and flying into the air,
To flatten may more of us.
What would it be like to be a snow flake?
Nov 8, 2012
Nov 8, 2012 at 7:27 PM UTC