En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Knife Man

Knife Man
I see most days the thin man who always carries a document map
that appears as slim as him. He has a distant look in his face like he
lives in a world of his own, and we pass each other like shadows in
the night. I have often thought of speaking to him, but I remember
fifteen years when his left him he went quite insane, when she came
out of a shop he stabbed her several with hunting knife till she died.
Sent to an asylum he was after five years declared sane and released,
so it is better to leave him well alone, one never knows he might be
armed with a new shining hunting knife bought at the gypsy market,
just waiting to feel slighted so he can use the knife again.

poem by Oskar Hansen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Bleeding

Stop bleeding said the knife
I would if I could said the cut.
Stop bleeding you make me messy with the blood.
I'm sorry said the cut.
Stop or I will sink in farther said the knife.
Don't said the cut.
The knife did not say it couldn't help it but
it sank in farther.
If only you didn't bleed said the knife I wouldn't
have to do this.
I know said the cut I bleed too easily I hate
that I can't help it I wish I were a knife like
you and didn't have to bleed.
Well meanwhile stop bleeding will you said the knife.
Yes you are a mess and sinking in deeper said the cut I
will have to stop.
Have you stopped by now said the knife.
I've almost stopped I think.
Why must you bleed in the first place said the knife.
For the same reason maybe that you must do what you
must do said the cut.
I can't stand bleeding said the knife and sank in farther.
I hate it too said the cut I know it isn't you it's
me you're lucky to be a knife you ought to be glad about that.
Too many cuts around said the knife they're
messy I don't know how they stand themselves.
They don't said the cut.
You're bleeding again.
No I've stopped said the cut see you are coming out now the
blood is drying it will rub off you'll be shiny again and clean.
If only cuts wouldn't bleed so much said the knife coming
out a little.
But then knives might become dull said the cut.
Aren't you still bleeding a little said the knife.
I hope not said the cut.
I feel you are just a little.
Maybe just a little but I can stop now.
I feel a little wetness still said the knife sinking in a
little but then coming out a little.
Just a little maybe just enough said the cut.
That's enough now stop now do you feel better now said the knife.
I feel I have to bleed to feel I think said the cut.
I don't I don't have to feel said the knife drying now
becoming shiny.

poem by May Swenson
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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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Knife Prty

My knife its sharp and chrome
Come see inside my bones
All of the fiends are on the block
Im the new king
I taste the queen
In here we are all anemic
In here anemic and sweet
So go get your knife
And come in so go get your knife
And lay down
So go get your knife now kiss me
I can float here forever
In this room we cant touch
The floor in here
Were all anemic
In here anemic and sweet so

song performed by by Deftones
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Wedded Bliss

Your world will get far worse if you are going to use that knife,
have you seriously thought of what you are about to do?
I mean this is stupid, is it the best way to begin a new life?

Your so called friend has filled your head with poisonous lies,
and I've told you many times about their lethal tongue,
but you never listened to me no matter how hard I tried.

It makes no sense to do this just because of what someone says,
you should judge me as you find me,
not on some persons words on another of their fantasy days.

Please put down the knife, do you really want to kill me?
You're obviously upset by what you have been told,
and you've already made up your mind that I'm guilty.

If there is any doubt in your mind that you have been told a lie
put down the knife right now and walk out the door,
that would be the perfect new beginning and just say goodbye.

Well, if you are leaving you'd better take your bags and things,
and if like you say you're never coming back,
you may as well take with you my wedding ring.

At least the hot tempered insults that you have thrown in the past,
along with your countless jealous accusations of betrayal,
and the dodging of missiles will finally come to pass.

Before you go, would you really have used that carving knife,
or was it just a blind to hide your latest affair,
so you could move out again for yet another new life?

poem by Tex T Sarnie
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Last Text

Up against my throat, I hold a hunting knife
This text will be my last
For, when it's done, I'll take my life
Oh, I'll have a blast
Through my throat, the knife will cut
Causing blood to spurt out of the open wound
I get a feeling of relief in my gut
For I know it'll all soon be over and done
And this text will be my last
It would be easier with a gun
But, either way, it'll be a blast
I won't die fast
But, oh, how it'll be a blast!

poem by Amy Parkinson
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Mirror Mirror on the Wall (A Knife on the Back)

Mirror mirror on the wall
Who’s the strangest of all?
Lost your soul in this idol cage
A knife on the back
No magic potions there to save you
Look yourself in the eye
Fall down on your knees

Mirror mirror on the wall
Who’s the cunniest of all?
Is it any wonder you’re mean
A knife on the back
No prayers there to save you
Confess your regrets
Stand up and laugh……

Mirror mirror on the wall
Is it me you’re lookin’ for?
Catch me in the avalanche of shadows
A knife on the back
No light to lit your darkness
Seven years of anomaly
Throw a stone and let it break

poem by Roger Bewman
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Raw With Love

little dark girl with
kind eyes
when it comes time to
use the knife
I won't flinch and
I won't blame
you,
as I drive along the shore alone
as the palms wave,
the ugly heavy palms,
as the living does not arrive
as the dead do not leave,
I won't blame you,
instead
I will remember the kisses
our lips raw with love
and how you gave me
everything you had
and how I
offered you what was left of
me,
and I will remember your small room
the feel of you
the light in the window
your records
your books
our morning coffee
our noons our nights
our bodies spilled together
sleeping
the tiny flowing currents
immediate and forever
your leg my leg
your arm my arm
your smile and the warmth
of you
who made me laugh
again.
little dark girl with kind eyes
you have no
knife. the knife is
mine and I won't use it
yet.

poem by Charles Bukowski
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Critic

Critic is like knife
Whether slim, whether heavy
Whether long, whether short
Whether blunt, whether sharp
Amateur slash, or right to the point
Kill slowly, or end it quickly
How effective the knife depends on people who accept it

poem by Maria Sudibyo
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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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Today is the day

Today is the day I've waited for
I can't wait no more.
I just cannot stay.
So today is the day.
The die that I die

For tonight I'll take my life
I'll probably use a knife
To end my life.
I cannot stand

For I guess a good life was to much to demand
I cann't Handle pressure and pain.
For I am sure to go insane.
Im already mad.
All I no is bad.

For I can't stay sane
And Now all I see is red
Things will get better once I am dead

I am going to Die
So I say Goodbye
I take these pills in my hand
For I guess a good life was way to much to demand
But suicide will end it all
For not listening is my downfall

I take the pills in groups of ten
As I lie down I think of Life
I think I should use a knife
It will get better
as I sign my letter
With crimson blood.

One Slash of the knife
And I robbed myself of my life.
But the life I had was no good.
It was within a shitty hood

Amy Kerswell

poem by Amy Louise Kerswell
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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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My Friend, My Friend

My friend, my friend hes got a knife
A statement from his former life
When he was easy but alone
Beside him was an empty throne
But what of silver silken blade
Affix his gaze, his features staid
Grasps the handle, clips the cable
One steps up, sits at his table
My friend, my friend, hes got a knife
My friend, my friend, hes got a wife
My friend, my friend, the clever ruse
Persuasion through his thoughts peruse
A hidden relic from his past
That wasnt there when he looked last
He feels it ticking like a bomb
Feeding fear, assaulting calm
Takes the object, starts the game
Moves closer to the flame
My friend, my friend, the clever ruse
My friend, my friend, he lights the fuse
My friend, my friend, hes got a knife
My friend, my friend, hes got a knife
My friend, my friend, hes got a knife
Myf
[maniacal giggles]

song performed by by Phish
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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These Knives

Why walk around with a knife in your pocket?
Are you afraid of yourself? !
Or, do you want to kill somebody around you?

It is a shame that you have a knife in your pocket,
But stop this act of negativity and live and let us live;
Like the satus-quo of Romeo and Juliet.

You claim to go to church but,
There is a knife in your pocket!
Infact, this act will not take you to heaven.
So, do learn for the better than stabbing somebody with these knives.

poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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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Soul Dear

I'm but a soldier
In an army called life
In my right hand a pen
In my left one a knife

When I meet my enemy
He decides which I use
I'll do what it takes
I can't afford to lose

When I meet a friend
I will have his back
On me he can depend
My loyalty won't lack

When you see me walking
Down the avenue
Will it be the pen
Or the knife I use

I'm but a soldier
In an army called life
Is it true the pen
Is mightier than the knife?

poem by SinJace Ramos
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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Paradise Knife And Gun Club

Joe Bob was as rough as they come and prone to blow his stack
Kenny Dean was in the suicide scene and sneakin' behind Joe's back
Sneakin' around with Joe's girl June she liked the boys in the band
And when they all got together on Saturday night it was easy to understand why
They called it Saturday night at the paradise knife and gun club
There's drinking and dancing to the music of Bobby Lee and The Blackjacks
It was Saturday night at the paradise knife and gun club
If you was looking for some trouble you could find it I guarantee
Now the owner of the place was a man named Jack and he wouldn't take talking back
He was married to a woman named Mae she took up the slack
He knocked ya out and she'd drag ya out and leave ya in the parking lot
And when you'd wake up in the mornin' with a busted head you're just happy that was all you got
Come Saturday night at the paradise knife and gun club
There's was drinking and dancing to the music of Bobby Lee and The Blackjacks
It was Saturday night at the paradise knife and gun club
If you was looking for some trouble you could find it I guarantee
Well the night that Joe Bob found out that Kenny Dean was sneakin' around with June
He caught Bobby Lee in the band in the middle of an old Hank William's tune
Bobby Lee cried out your cheatin' heart that was just the spark it took
And when the fighting got started everybody took part and that whole damn building shook
Till the sheriff came out and he stopped the bout hauled everybody to jail
When the judge saw the blood and the chewed up ears he turned a whiter shade of pale
He said good God ya'll what's happened here somebody started World War III
Kenny Dean just grinned the best he could and said your Honor it seems to me like it was just another
Saturday night at the paradise knife and gun club
They was drinking and dancing to the music of Bobby Lee and The Blackjacks
It was Saturday night at the paradise knife and gun club
If you was looking for some trouble you could find it I guarantee
Saturday night at the paradise knife and gun club
They was drinking and dancing to the music of Bobby Lee and The Blackjacks
It was Saturday night at the paradise knife and gun club
If you was looking for some trouble you could find it I guarantee
Lord if you was looking for some trouble you could find it I guarantee

song performed by by Lonestar
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Suicide

I sit here by myself, thinking of suicide
I look at a knife, wanting to commit suicide
I look at a photo, hating my life
Telling myself, suicide stops the pain

I turn the lights off, alone in dark
Reaching for the knife, that’s going to take it away
I think of certain people, they don’t care
For the first time, I think of myself

I dig the knife, into part of my skin
Letting all of my blood, pour out
I’m not dying quick enough, so another cut I make
Then a final cut on my neck, and a stab in my heart

poem by Lisa French
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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