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Instinct
it is an urge to run your feet as fast a you can
or save someone without think about yourself
it's a light that suddenly bright on
or the awakening of hungry animal
it's dulled by comfort and happiness
or sharpen in harsh life and difficult time
some men bury deep, some men follow it
nobody knows where it comes from
maybe it's just electric sensation in our brain
as long as you live, you will decide
to use it wisely or be conquered by yourself
poem by Maria Sudibyo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Scissors-Grinder's Song
Fetch on your scissors, your slender blade--
To make them brilliant and sharp's my trade;
To every door-step my grindstone comes,
And on and ever it strolls and hums.
I and my grindstone, we wander by,
And no one asks me from whence come I;
How poor I am, no one cares to know,
None care to hear of my spirit's woe.
I'm ground by sorrow both day and night,
And yet I never am polished bright;
I'm ground by hunger, and though it pales
The face, to sharpen the wit it fails.
I'm ground by grief, but the work is ill,
For notched and rusty my heart is, still.
The wheel is whirling, the stone has grit--
Fetch on your steel--shall I sharpen it?
poem by Carmen Sylva
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Wu Wei (Do Nothing)
Overfilling a vessel is not as good as stopping before it is filled
Over sharpen a blade and it will lose its edge.
Pile up gold and jade
And it will impossible to guard it
In going after rank and titles
In an arrogant and haughty way
You will bring about your own downfall.
Withdraw when the work is done
This is the way of Tao.
poem by Lawrence Hiung
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Six Blade Knife
Your six blade knife can do anything for you
Anything you want it to
One blade for breaking my heart
One blade for tearing me apart
Your six blade knife-do anything for you
You can take away my mind like you take away the top of a tin
When you come up from behind and lay it down cold on my skin
Took a stone from my soul when I was lame
Just so you could make me tame
You take away my mind like you take away the top of a tin
Id like to be free of it now - I dont want it no more
Id like to be free of it now - you know I dont want it no more
Everybody got a knife it can be just what they want it to be
A needle a wife or something that you just cant see
You know it keeps you strong
Yes and itll do me wrong
Your six blade knife - do anything for you
song performed by by Dire Straits
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Your Pencil
Sharpen your pencil and let me use it,
For the righteous works of some people are clearly evident;
But those thst are otherwise cannot be hidden.
Sharpen your pencil according to the promise of life,
And like a tree planted by the waters of love;
For the sins of others are ahead of them while,
The sins of others trail behind them.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Blade There are worse things out tonight than vampires. Dr. Karen Jenson Like what Blade Like me.
Sit Beside Me
Why are pretty things
so hard
like the jewels in your eyes
Why are aspirations
so high
just out of reach
like you.
Why are your arms so white
they blind me
like you
If I reach down the well
of your soul
will I trip
and fall in?
Can I get this perfect
love
or if I do
will it crack
and run thin?
Will the face in my mirror
look younger every day-
only you can do that
in the photo
on my dresser here.
If I slide down this razor blade
will it sharpen my wits
or simply leave
a crimson scar
marking what
idiots do
when they don't think.
Can my down
ever be up?
Will sideways
some days do?
All questions
with a single answer
yes;
all this can be
if it comes into being
with you
sitting here
beside me
being you.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My New Best Friend The Blade
i love my new best friend the blade
It cuts the pain away out of my body
I love my new best friend The blade
As i cut into my skin a smile appears
I love my new best friend the blade
As the blood drip from my bestfriend
I love my best friend the blade
It takes the pain away for a short time
Cant Wait to see my best friend
poem by Ari Castillo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Johnny Blade
Tortured and twisted, he walks the streets alone
People avoid him, they know the streets his own
Cold blade of silver, his eyes they burn so wild
Mean as a tiger, societys own child
Go the tiger, burn in hate
You know you have to, johnny blade
Hes the meanest guy around his town
One look and he will cut you down
Johnny blade, johnny blade
Life has no meaning, and deaths his only friend
Will fate surprise him, where will he meet his end?
He feels so bitter, yes hes so full of hate
To die in the gutter, I guess thats johnnys fate
Rivals all across the land
He kills them with his knife in hand
Hes the meanest guy around his town
One look and he will cut you down
Johnny blade, johnny blade
Johnny blade, johnny blade
Well you know that johnnys a spider
And his web is the city at night
Hes a victim of modern frustration
Thats the reason hes so ready to fight
Hes the one that should be afraid
What will happen to you, johnny blade?
Oh he knows his futures decided
And he aint gonna change it, no way
He was born to die in the gutter
Hell keep fighting 'till the end of his days
Been alone all through his life
His only friend is a switchblade knife
Hes the one who should be afraid
What will happen to you, johnny blade?
You fool the people
Whos fooling who?
Its time to listen
Whos fool are you?
song performed by by Black Sabbath
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Pretty For You
Swallow this scene, Im on fire
Arms waving, burning higher
Impressing you with what Ive done
But every minute Im losing one by one
Swallow this scene, sharpen knives
Pin cushion, pierce my sides
And every blade will catch the sun
And every minute Im losing one by one
Right now pretty for you
Am I finally pretty?
An ornament for everyone
But every minute Im losing one by one
Swallow this scene, there is laughter
For the ugly ever-after
And after they have poked their fun
And every lover Im losing one by one
song performed by by Verve Pipe
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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This balde
This blade was,
Once silver but,
Is now blood red.
What have I done,
I have to hide again,
The tears have fallen,
For another night.
My arm is now covered,
In blood red stains,
I wish i could erase,
All my pain.
The blade was sarrated,
The worst type of all,
Smooth ends are dated,
Just like blades that are small.
This blade was,
Once silver but,
Is now blood red.
What have I done,
I'm falling asleep,
Again
written 19th may 2010
poem by Jess Jayne
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ripper's Hand
palm gird
its direction, pointing neither
straight
nor curve it goes where
it begins and holds
what makes
it fulfill, the night shows no mercy
direction
has nothing to say
and the star above pointless
array even it
catches perfect horizon
in a compass way but still it pushes
no limit
our eyes couldn't see
the ripper's blade
cut with honor
regardless of whose right or wrong;
for sharpen edge
hit the core,
with the guillotine eye feasts
the flesh,
the night whistles the day
of spoilage crate
now take me
where I shall stop; the nail and the
hair has clever to ask,
as the head wants
it to stop, the Ripper's mind always
come
with hands in the top
poem by Antonio Liao
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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It's a nice visual. I had just done Blade and I put on more weight for Blade and I thought I might as well use it so I kept it and added a little more. I wanted him to be a big bear.
quote by Ryan Reynolds
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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But the community knew Blade, and everybody but us was shocked at the box office, and subsequently the DVD. That was the beginning of the DVD revolution, and Blade was just like wildfire.
Razor Blade
A ella le dicen Razor Blade,
Por que te corta al respirar
Maneja todo tipo de arma,
Es un espia internacional,
No se podria suceder,
Que estemos juntos otra vez, tomando Whisky en un hotel,
Planchando plastica
Fuimos la mente de operacin inframundo, en Tele-tlan,
Tumbamos miles de transmisoras de rayos P, satlites,
Ella es Razor Blade she is razor blade.
song performed by by Zoe
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Blade You better wake up. The world you live in is nothing but a sugarcoated topping There is another world beneath it. And if you want to survive it you better learn how to PULL THE TRIGGER
Lend me your Tears
crystal as the stream
in my dream sees, pearl of touchless eyes
in the halos of
every smile, lighted every dark of the past
glorified of showered pathways of
relentless ideal those certainty is beyond
human reach
what comes in the pain of hate, whose
anger stop revenge solitude, nothing than a
arrogance of the heart rebirth
in the shadow of the brave Knight of
flame
worship the fire and close the open gate
of harmony, for the color of the night grip
every hand to blood of songs,
sober the vague of silent and allure the blade
of joy, into the passion of hope
comes again
sharpen the glittering edges
of prayer as the cavalier ready to fight for
victory
‘a poem dedicated to the People of Libya”
poem by Antonio Liao
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Blade of fate
The blade of fate lay over my neck forceful and blatant
Cold But withered like a willow tree whistling like a raven
Black and sharpened with the thorn of my heart pierced through my body
Thee knows my quarrels and thee knows my pain that indeed I am hearty
For the fate
of the blade
that lay Hovering over me bares my ever growing load of her rose that is heavy laden.
Oh the blade of fate has wearied me upon the the deathly road I take for nothingness is where I'll lay in.
A field of my fate is where I lay and where I hear the call of the raven.
poem by Daegonius Bonapartea
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dick Fozard's Wartime Navy Knife
I’m not one for mementoes – Grandma
in sepia, pie-crust necked and pleated blouse,
expressionless amidst her dressed-up, mixed-up brood; chic aunt
with that hundred-watt smile which clicked
off, the instant the shutter clicked…but now
I’m holding this kitchen knife.
It’s got a triangular blade to allow
for that quick chop-chop of the trained cook
or kitchen-hand; black, dulled ebonite handle;
and although it’s made in Sheffield,
by Geo.Watt,1943, it’s not stainless steel
but stained iron; sharp, but not too dangerous
when used in the cook’s galley of a hungry ship of the unslept
that’s simultaneously zigzagging to avoid torpedoes
and kamikaze dive-bombers, while buffeting through
the South China Seas. The ‘ broad arrow’
stamped on it – as once used to pattern convicts' clothes –
here means, that it was wartime issue.
Dick trained as artist and lithographer’s apprentice
just in time not to hone his talents when called up
to fight the Japs in that nasty, ruthless end-campaign
when Europe had declared peace, but not Japan.
He wouldn’t talk of it; and when a few years back
someone saw and remembered him from then, he
shook hands warmly, said little, left it to the other jacktar
to tell the story when he’d gone. And went back to find himself again,
walking the Yorkshire hills and dales with rucksack, pipe, a crust,
an onion, cheese, cut I guess with this same knife, and
missing nothing with his artist’s vision;
beyond solitude; content; complete.
He never really used his part-developed skills again
except to teach, with few words but with superb craftsman’s care,
leaving a trail of devoted pupils: ‘He taught me all I know’.
Only those, perhaps, who know war,
can know peace in this way, asking nothing; to know him
(but careful not to question) was to know a little of that peace
deep within the sea of himself, the sea
which holds so many souls.
When he moved on, as he often did,
he left his knife. I use it every day,
remembering this man who was just one
who knew, lived, war, quietly guarding his memories
of pain with love, of love with pain.
I sharpen it, like a memory
I do not have. Like one who prays
devoutly, to that unknown god
of war; who may, in ways we cannot understand,
guard such souls.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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