You came in my life,
My home again did revive;
Oh! my kitchen knife!
quote by by Nilakshi Das
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Resurrection
Consumed with memories that preceded today
Given a chance to bereave life thats slipping away
Suffered through tragedy of my slow decay
Deceptive tendencies dragged my soul away
All that I know there was no God for me
Force that shatters all, absence of mortality
Revive all my fears
Revive wasted tears
Revive void within
Revive once again...
Forsaken by destiny, forsaken by my own mind
I must remove my skin to see belief in your eyes
All that I know there was no God for me
Force that shatters all, absence of humanity
Revive all my fears
Revive wasted tears
Revive void within
Revive once again...
Reach for the sky
Touch the sky
Revive a hope
For mankind
song performed by by Fear Factory
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I must do it now
One Cold Rainy Night
I sit in my room out of sight
I dont mean it by slight.
I look at a bottle of Pills and a knife
Wondering which one should end my life
I no longer want a life of strife
I must do it tonight
Before Midnight
When there tucked up in bed
So they dont find me.
I learned life isn't fair
And No one Cares
I pick up the knife
My life is done
One quick slash
And In a flash I'm on the floor
I lie there dying as you walk in
You scream at the sight
You want to save.
I plead for you not to.
But as we get to the hospital
The machine goes dead.
They cant revive me.
I've gone
'Mum, I gave up the fight'
As I lay back
My whole world goes Black
poem by Amy Louise Kerswell
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Knife Party
My knife - its sharp and chrome
Come see inside my bones
All of the fiends are on the block
Im the new king, Ill take the queen
cause in here were all anemic
In here - anemic and sweet...so...
Go get your knife, go get your knife
And come in
Go get your knife, go get your knife
And lay down
Go get your knife, go get your knife
Now kiss me
Oooh...well I can float here forever
In this room we cant touch the floor
In here were all anemic
In here - anemic and sweet...so...
Go get your knife, go get your knife
And come in
Go get your knife, go get your knife
And lay down
Go get your knife, go get your knife
Now kiss me
Ohh... I could float here forever
Ohh... anemic and sweet
Ohh... I could float here forever
Ohh... anemic and sweet...so...
Go get your knife, go get your knife
And come in
Go get your knife, go get your knife
And lay down
Go get your knife, go get your knife
Get filthy
Go get your knife, go get your knife
And kiss me...
song performed by by Deftones
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Kiss The Knife
its stupid for me
to let u back in my life
but i cant go no more
without kissing the knife
i know i made u made
i shall pay the price
but all i wanna do is.....
kiss the knife
u can stab me in my back
but i can take that
what makes me feel right
is a kiss to the knife
sharpiest knife in the draw
there is my knife out the door
kiss the knife goodbye
it cut me open
n i gave it my heart my life
i want you back
kiss the knife
poem by James Bost
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At A Certain Point In Your Life
you go around
your room
and then to the kitchen
you look carefully
on each object
that you see
the rexona deodorant,
the knife,
the garlic and the onions
some rice grains
on the sink
you look at them
and they are all messy
you even think
the deodorant's place
is not in the kitchen
there are wrong
placements and you
want them changed
by you
you want something
proper
things in their places
you simply look
at each of them
and they are all alive
talking to you
they know
you do not have the time anymore
and they are so sorry for you
saying
goodbye
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Cuts Like A Knife
Drivin' home this evening
I coulda sworn we had it all worked out
You had this boy believin'
Way beyond the shadow of a doubt
The I heard it on the street
I heard you mighta found somebody new
Well who is he baby - who is he
And tell me what he means to you
I took it all for granted
But how was I to know
That you'd be letting go
Now it cuts like a knife
But it feels so right
It cuts like a knife
But it feels so right
There's times I've 'bin mistaken
There's tines I thought I'd 'bin misunderstood
So wait a minute darlin'
Can't you see we did the best we could
This would be the first time
Things have gone astray
Now you've thrown it all away
Now it cuts like a knife
But it feels so right
It cuts like a knife
But it feels so right
song performed by by Bryan Adams from Cuts Like A Knife
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Too Many Cooks In The Kitchen
Theres too many cooks in the kitchen
Theres too many minds on the job
Theres too many cooks in the kitchen
Everybody wants a piece of the action
Cooking the books and getting their fractions wrong
What we need is law and order
Everybody knows
Cant have chiefs without the injuns
Stepping on their toes
Theres too many cooks in the kitchen
Theres too many daps in the pie
Theres too many cooks in the kitchen
Everybody needs a place in the rat race
Playing games of power, its only a cat chase
Too many too many too many etc.
Too many cooks in the kitchen
[by the colonel]
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Psychopath
The Psychopath
The lane is siesta empty, meanders forever amongst
olive trees and budding almond flowers, but afar I see
a black clad man, an ominous shadow, marching
towards me. He has got one hand in his pocket, a knife?
Bet he is a psychopath out to see if he can kill someone
without being caught. Nowhere to run fields are soggy
and he’s younger than me; he will catch up and plunge
a knife in me when I’m exhausted. When he stops and
looks around to be sure there are no witnesses, I quickly
bend down and pick up a big stone I can hit him over
the head with it, I think I’m stronger than him. He looks
tense as he passes me on the opposite side of the lane,
I stop pretend to look at the sky, can’t let him thrust his
knife in my back. He’s running now, see him disappear
around a sharp bend but I wait till sure he ain’t coming
back, I better arm myself with a kitchen knife next time
I go out the world is full of bad people.
poem by Oskar Hansen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Refresh, Revive, Renew
Refresh, revive, renew...
And declare yourself,
You!
Detached and removed,
From a confusing deprivation.
Blocked and unlocked from it!
You can not return...
To burn.
To learn from consequences,
You alone earned.
Refresh, revive, renew...
And declare yourself,
You!
Back from a lack of confidence.
Unstrapped from incidents.
Caused by hasty indeciveness...
Rushing to prevent any form of movement.
Condoned and now done with it.
Refresh, revive, renew...
And declare yourself,
You!
If done now...
Your future becomes even brighter.
Even the light held you hold,
Can be held even higher.
Higher
Higher
Higher still!
Refresh, revive, renew...
And declare yourself,
You!
You are that spark,
Igniting to glow.
Show more of it!
Refresh, revive, renew...
You.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The best thing I have is the knife from Fatal Attraction. I hung it in my kitchen. It's my way of saying, Don't mess with me.
quote by Glenn Close
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Traditionally art is to create and not to revive. To revive: leave that to the historians, who are looking backward.
quote by Josef Albers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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God Was Right
God was right when he made the women
Because men built house for the women to live in with their families
And he included a kitchen
But God knew that if the house had a kitchen the women would be better The whole night cooking for her family
And God knew that the kitchen was the perfect place for women
God was right when he made women so that they can have babies
And feed the babies milk from her breasts and change all the babies Diapers everyday
Because the only way babies communicate is by crying
And all the babies needs their naps
God was right when he made the women
So she could be there to do the family laundry also
And women's job is never done at home
Because as long as she lives she will be the slave of home
poem by Aldo Kraas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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They Say It's Farewell......I May Perhaps Say It's Break Up.......
I reminisce the walk with you,
midst of decending drizzle......
Now I wonder why me alone in drizzle,
then I revive we broke up......
THEY SAY IT'S FAREWELL......I MAY PERHAPS SAY IT'S BREAK UP.......! ! !
I reminisce the staring,
me to your eyes, you to mine......
Now I wonder why my vision blur,
then I revive i'm in darkness and we broke up......
THEY SAY IT'S FAREWELL......I MAY PERHAPS SAY IT'S BREAK UP.......
I reminisce mesmerised,
by your resplendence......
Now I wonder why my head spin,
then I revive I'm doped and we broke up.....
THEY SAY IT'S FAREWELL......I MAY PERHAPS SAY IT'S BREAK UP.......
I reminisce dreaming you,
snuggling my pillow......
Now I wonder why pillow plunged,
then I revive I'm weeping and we broke up....
THEY SAY IT'S FAREWELL......I MAY PERHAPS SAY IT'S BREAK UP.......
I reminisce writing,
your name appending with mine....
Now I wonder why my hands shiver,
then i revive i'm writing last words and we broke up....
THEY SAY IT'S FAREWELL......I MAY PERHAPS SAY IT'S BREAK UP.......
I reminisce the,
day you resided in my heart.....
Now I wonder why cant I erase,
then I revive you're forever and we broke up....
THEY SAY IT'S FAREWELL......I MAY PERHAPS SAY IT'S BREAK UP.......
I reminisce you saying,
I'll be with you....
Now I wonder why you not with me.....
then i revive you're dead and we didnt broke up.....
THEY SAY IT'S FAREWELL...I SAY YOU DON'T EXIST ANYMORE...! ! ! ! ! ! !
THEY SAY DONT CRY.....I SAY, I CANT SMILE ANYMORE
THEY INSIST TO SMILE......AGAIN I SAY, I CANT
THEY ASK WHY? ......I SAY, I LOVED HER, DIDNT FLIRT
THEY WERE QUIET........I CONTINUE TO WAIL FOR HER! ! ! ! ! !
P.S: SOMEONE SPECIAL STILL LIVE IN US, EVEN THEIR PHYSICAL BODY-THEY SAY DEAD BODY-IS INCINERATED! ! ! ! ! ! !
poem by shinej K.P
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Litany
You are the bread and the knife,
The crystal goblet and the wine...
-Jacques Crickillon
You are the bread and the knife,
the crystal goblet and the wine.
You are the dew on the morning grass
and the burning wheel of the sun.
You are the white apron of the baker,
and the marsh birds suddenly in flight.
However, you are not the wind in the orchard,
the plums on the counter,
or the house of cards.
And you are certainly not the pine-scented air.
There is just no way that you are the pine-scented air.
It is possible that you are the fish under the bridge,
maybe even the pigeon on the general's head,
but you are not even close
to being the field of cornflowers at dusk.
And a quick look in the mirror will show
that you are neither the boots in the corner
nor the boat asleep in its boathouse.
It might interest you to know,
speaking of the plentiful imagery of the world,
that I am the sound of rain on the roof.
I also happen to be the shooting star,
the evening paper blowing down an alley
and the basket of chestnuts on the kitchen table.
I am also the moon in the trees
and the blind woman's tea cup.
But don't worry, I'm not the bread and the knife.
You are still the bread and the knife.
You will always be the bread and the knife,
not to mention the crystal goblet and--somehow--the wine.
poem by Billy Collins
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Do You Remember My Beloved?
Do You remember my beloved!
Once you nocked my doors,
Holding the sun gift for me,
Ah if you Again come
I don't need gifts
Even don't bring me the sun
Just let it there above to guide your way to my home.
Come to Revive on my sky.
Make my heart Shiver and fly..
Do not fade away again even for a while.
May the spring days too, return home soon.
When you've gone my soul
became feeble alone.
Stay near since im here..
Soon Life's goodbye comes
And nockes the doors and everything
becomes just past.
And the past is already lost.
But you come...
poem by Sossi Khachadourian
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Litany
You are the bread and the knife,
The crystal goblet and the wine...
-Jacques Crickillon
You are the bread and the knife,
the crystal goblet and the wine.
You are the dew on the morning grass
and the burning wheel of the sun.
You are the white apron of the baker,
and the marsh birds suddenly in flight.
However, you are not the wind in the orchard,
the plums on the counter,
or the house of cards.
And you are certainly not the pine-scented air.
There is just no way that you are the pine-scented air.
It is possible that you are the fish under the bridge,
maybe even the pigeon on the general's head,
but you are not even close
to being the field of cornflowers at dusk.
And a quick look in the mirror will show
that you are neither the boots in the corner
nor the boat asleep in its boathouse.
It might interest you to know,
speaking of the plentiful imagery of the world,
that I am the sound of rain on the roof.
I also happen to be the shooting star,
the evening paper blowing down an alley
and the basket of chestnuts on the kitchen table.
I am also the moon in the trees
and the blind woman's tea cup.
But don't worry, I'm not the bread and the knife.
You are still the bread and the knife.
You will always be the bread and the knife,
not to mention the crystal goblet and--somehow--the wine.
Anonymous submission.
poem by William Taylor Collins
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Kitchen Bitches
Round table they all meet, set up in the kitchen.
They had a book highlighted with their so call friends name,
They all did their homework report and came to tell about the information that they've gather.
Pour their tea ready to talk about anecdotes,
the conversation is backbiting about their friends life
The kitchens bitches spread intimating rumors about they friends who live way better than the kitchen bitches
They begin with 'word of the mouth is! '
They love to gossip, it is like a rush they need every week,
this meeting make them feel good about themselves and also put them in the right mood
'Gossip conference is over, so next week lets meet at a new location! '
Their small minds discuss people, but they're blind to see that they own life is more mess up than anyone on the block.
Kitchen bitches only dislike gossip is when you gossip about them.
Ever member of the kitchen bitches even talk about the misssing member when they move to a different kitchen.
poem by Brittany Wongus
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My Dream Home
My dream home would be a log home in the city
Downstairs would be the kitchen with the laundryroom in it
And a storage area
Also there would be a family room with a living room
The log home would have 4 bedrooms and 4 bathrooms
In the hall of the log home would be the linen closset
At the front of the log home there would be the stone driveway
But at the back of the log home there would be the indoor garden so that We could use it all year round
The floor in the log home would be wood
And the walls in the log home would be beige
There would be Ikea furniture inside of the log home
Also the neighbourhood would be a well established neighbourhood
But very quiet indeed
Not too much traffic
The parks nearby would be very sophisticated with colorful
Flowers and beautiful trees
poem by Aldo Kraas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Confession from the Jailhouse
I killed my brother in a dream
And heard my mother sob and scream
For me to stop and spare his life
And put away that carving knife.
My brother was an upright man,
The successful type who always can
Elicit praise from everyone
For all the good things they have done.
He never gambled, never lied,
And never showed a bit of pride
Though he achieved far more than most -
No, I never heard my brother boast.
He was his parents hope and joy
From when he was a little boy,
And yet I claim he was a thief
Who brought me so much pain and grief.
I met a lass and fell in love
And promised by the stars above
That I'd be faithful, always true,
And worship her my whole life through.
She met my brother at a dance,
He smiled at her and took his chance,
My 'noble' brother stole from me
The girl I loved so jealously.
Alas, my dream became a fact
That night I callously attacked
My brother with a kitchen knife
Because I knew he'd steal my wife.
Now they have locked me in a cell
When I should surely burn in Hell,
I killed a better man than me
And they will never set me free.
poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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