A Scissor's Story
there was once a boy
who is afraid of scissors
and the scissors keep on
threatening him,
until one day when the boy
gained strength to face
that scissor and
he tied it with a string
on his neck and
paraded it on the streets
of the town
his thumb was cut
and blood dripped along the
path
towards his self-gained
freedom
and then he laughed
as the scissor gets too sharp
for the pleasure of
his neck
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
A Scissor Cut Into The Sky
There is a scissor cut into the sky
And I wonder who had cut the sky with a scissor
But I don't think Good would damage his home called sky
Also I don't believe that the saints would dammage the sky with a scissors
Because they would be punished right away by God
So it has to be the devil who cut the sky with the scissor
Because he wants to make God mad
poem by Aldo Kraas
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I bind long Blackwood poles
I bind long Blackwood poles
with a blue pair of pliers and binding wire
between green palisades
and cut it with a old pruning scissor
into the right lengths
and wear a blue bull cap,
but the sun
burns the hell out of me
and every now and then
there’s coffee and water
and a friend’s pruning scissor
that I get from my sweetheart.
I work into the night
and she calls
and ask me
to stop working
and my neck and shoulders
and back and hands are sore
and my face is burnt red
by the sun,
but my sweetheart
is very happy
about how the fence looks.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Up To My Neck In You
Well Ive been up to my neck in trouble
Up to my neck in strife
Up to my neck in misery
For most of my life
Ive been a fool
And you know what a fool can do
Im telling you
You came along when I needed you
Now Im up, Im up to my neck in you
And Ive been up to my neck in pleasure
Up to my neck in pain
Ive been up to my neck on the railroad track
Waitin for the train
To cruise on through
Well baby my time is due
Oh its way overdue
You came along and you pulled me through
Now Im up, up to my neck in you
Well Ive been up to my neck in whiskey
Ive been up to my neck in wine
Ive been up to my neck in wishing
That this neck wasnt mine
I was a loser
You werent lost
Baby you were too good, too good to be true
What youve got no one else could do
Now Im up, Im up to my neck in you
Yeah you came along when I needed you
Oh Im up to my neck in you
song performed by by AC-DC
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Shattered Glass
The volume in agony, designed by the hands of darkness - Forms the ice around my heart, soul surrounded without a sound - Caged by bone to be protected, by age, our end is selected - What i lack in life is fear, do you water your eyes everyday with tears - You stare across a field to watch the birds nest in a tree, i see a chair - You look at the branches, i noose my neck, to be roped, i have had my chances - I walk the path, ontop of shattered glass - My prints are left behind on your field, blood stains are painted on the grass - Sellected by a paper shield, scissor reflected
poem by Unic Cjonr
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Ruminating the past
I gained my parents at my birth.
I gained my brothers and sisters
And then my kids and their kids
Every gain to me was a pleasure.
Then I grieve over the loss of them,
One by one, or at leaving them.
I weep and weep, profoundly weep
Over their death or in their sick beds.
What we lose is what we had gained.
The gained are destined to be lost
Or from them we shall be lost.
I recall the good they have done.
I repent the wrongs done to them.
Rumination of pleasure and regrets
Keep me at the old age engaged.
27.03.2001, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Occupational Therapy
Find me a scissors and some paper,
So I can start to shape her.
First the feet and legs, all two;
Up to the knees then a skirt will do.
Then to the middle to angle at the arms,
Down to the fingers (this is where it gets hard) .
Then once they look presentable,
Off up to the shoulders, curving up at the neck
To a face well rounded.
All done now, our paper cut out of you.
Ready for colouring,
You can begin with the blue :)
poem by Harriet James
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The Discontented Manicure Scissors
Said the manicure scissors one day,
'The shears always have their own way,
And I think it absurd
That I am deterred
From entering into life's fray.
My task might be jolly for snails,
But I must confess that it fails
To give pleasure to me;
I am sick as can be
Of snipping the ends of pink nails.
I want to do work like the shears!'
So the scissors set out it appears,
And very much wroth
They tried to cut cloth,
And so split themselves open, my dears.
And the cloth, well you should have seen that;
It looked as if gnawed by a rat.
Now little folks, you
Must not think you can do
Whatever your elders are at.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Cutting edge
Like a sharp knife
cutting through a bitter lemon
into red lips dripping
the hairdresser takes my pleasantries,
chops them with a cruel hand,
throws them back in pieces in my face
snip snip into blond hair, brown hair, black, grey, white,
what heroic restraint, condemned
to a lifetime’s cutting, and not
to plunge the scissors into a spinal cord…
this little girl who cut her finger with
her mother’s scissors perhaps
to try to explain how they cut her heart
her love that would grow like hair
how can I know the heart
of this woman who cuts my hair
so expertly.. snip, snip..
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Scissor Man
Snipping, snipping, snipping goes the scissor man
Putting end to evil doers games
Snipping, snipping, snipping goes the scissor man
Maybe you are in his book of names
Maybe you are in his book of names
So be kind and helpful to your mother
Just think twice before you try and steal
When he cuts with sticky silver snippers
You may find the wounds will never heal
All self made bad boys
If you refuse to believe he exist
You won't be frightened when you find out
You're on his list
You're on his list
You're on his list
So be good and never poison people
Just think twice before the deed is done
When you wake up guilty in the morning
You may find important pieces gone
song performed by by Primus
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Scissor Man
Snipping, snipping, snipping goes the scissor man,
Putting end to evil doers games.
Snipping, snipping, snipping goes the scissor man,
Maybe you are in his book of names.
Maybe you are in his book of names.
So be kind and helpful to your mother,
Just think twice before you try and steal.
When he cuts with sticky silver snippers,
You may find that some wounds never heal.
All self made bad boys,
If you refuse to believe he exist,
You wont be frightened when you find out,
Youre on his list.
Youre on his list.
Youre on his list.
So be good and never poison people,
Just think twice before the deed is done.
When you wake up guilty in the morning,
You may find important pieces gone.
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The dark beauty
The dark love,
Grieving my darkness,
The red meat
And the blood of my sadness,
Carving in the sand
Its shadow,
The scissor,
Lurking in grass
Its soft violence
For the kinetic buds
And the returning sap through the
Needles eyes
Of the tree,
The wayward yearning
To share the string waves
Of starting, stopping
And restarting,
Forever kinetic,
Two feelings meeting
For becoming then one,
Like words entwining
To give life unto that is itself.
Dark clouds flushing the wound.
poem by Marieta Maglas
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Peace Frog
Theres blood in the streets, its up to my ankles
She came
Theres blood on the streets, its up to my knee
She came
Blood on the streets in the town of chicago
She came
Blood on the rise, its following me
Think about the break of day
She came and then she drove away
Sunlight in her hair
She came
Blood in the streets runs a river of sadness
She came
Blood in the streets its up to my thigh
She came
Yeah the river runs down the legs of the city
She came
The women are crying red rivers of weepin
She came into town and then she drove away
Sunlight in her hair
Indians scattered on dawns highway bleeding
Ghosts crowd the young childs fragile eggshell mind
Blood in the streets in the town of new haven
Blood stains the roofs and the palm trees of venice
Blood in my love in the terrible summer
Bloody red sun of phantastic l.a.
Blood streams her brain as they chop off her fingers
Blood will be born in the birth of a nation
Blood is the rose of mysterious union
Theres blood in the streets, its up to my ankles
Blood in the streets, its up to my knee
Blood in the streets in the town of chicago
Blood on the rise, its following me
song performed by by Doors
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Parantha’s Dream
He marched up and down
with his string tied tin.
Keeping in time with the
beat and marching.
The twelve year old boy
Parantha Parapanjani
yearned to be a drummer
in the Royal Indian Army.
Using two wooden sticks
and a biscuit tin so old,
he imitated the drummers
and their drum rolls.
He marched up and down
with his string tied tin.
Keeping in time with the
beat and marching.
A thief stole his drum
leaving him with nothing to play,
but his father’s old tin leg,
stepped in to save the day.
From a string around his neck,
it swung about his waist,
as he practiced with the band
outside the military gates.
He marched up and down
with his string tied tin.
Keeping in time with the
beat and marching.
One day a limping man and boy
walked down the busy street,
as Parantha drummed up
a leg moving kind of beat.
The regimental sergeant major
recognised the sound,
and saw the leg being played,
as it made its way to town.
So impressed was the sergeant
he enlisted the boy in the band.
A new side-drum he was given
and a stick for each hand.
He marched up and down
with his Indian army band,
so proud to be a drummer,
with a stick in each hand.
poem by Orlando Belo
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Palm Fibre
May the hands of Abu Lahab be ruined
He will lose all whatever he gained
He will be in the flaming fire,
So, his wife the fuel carrier,
Around her neck a twisted cord of palm fibre.
poem by Abdul Wahab
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Dasgupta asks...
What have you gained
if you have not gained yourself,
yourself the immortal,
yourself the infinite ?
What have you gained
if you have never tasted in your life
the deep longing to be free,
the deep longing to be liberated?
The spirit of the saints of all the ages
whispers in my ears -
what have you gained
if you have never tasted
the joys of self-surrender?
If your heart has not longed
to make of you a flute
in the hands of Krishna,
master musician of the universe?
And if you have not been able
to sweeten all your miseries
with a touch of God?
(versified from a lecture in Evanston, US, in 1926)
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Path Of Glory
You squirt out red and turn so yellow
And then you made me kill my own
Im not afraid (coming)
But Im afraid
Blood in your eyes again
Bravery, the face of man
Blood on your mind again
Chivalry, the face of man
Blood in your lies again
Enemy, the face of man
Blood in your eyes, again, again, again
Is this the only path of glory?
If so then I wont go alone
Follow the trail (running)
Follow the trail
Blood in your eyes again
Bravery, the face of man
Blood on your mind again
Chivalry, the face of man
Blood in your lies again
Enemy, the face of man
Blood in your eyes, again, again, again
Again [several times]
Im not afraid, but Im afraid
Im not afraid, but Im afraid
song performed by by Faith No More
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Legend Of Stars
It has been a centuary,
For you searching on Alpha Centauri,
With the love I harnessed on Venus,
I cut through the galaxy like a scissors,
Made you a wedding band of Saturns rings,
A light away I hear your heart as it sings.
I have written you poems with star dust-
Written you poems on the Sun's crust,
I have one of Jupiter's moons for you a jewel,
Around your neck I'm certain it will look swell
I bear roses red as Mars,
I am sure this day will be ours.
And in the milky way-
We will stay.
© Saturday, December 31,2011 RCD 09: 00 AM
poem by Isunge Mwangase
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The Scissors-Grinder
The old man had his box and wheel
For grinding knives and shears.
No doubt his bell in village streets
Was joy to children's ears.
And I bethought me of my youth
When such men came around,
And times I asked them in, quite sure
The scissors should be ground.
The old man turned and spoke to me,
His face at last in view.
And then I thought those curious eyes
Were eyes that once I knew.
"The moon is but an emery-wheel
To whet the sword of God,"
He said. "And here beside my fire
I stretch upon the sod.
Each night, and dream, and watch the stars
And watch the ghost-clouds go.
And see that sword of God in Heaven
A-waving to and fro.
I see that sword each century, friend.
It means the world-war comes
With all its bloody, wicked chiefs
And hate-inflaming drums.
Men talk of peace, but I have seen
That emery-wheel turn round.
The voice of Abel cries again
To God from out the ground.
The ditches must flow red, the plague
Go stark and screaming by
Each time that sword of God takes edge
Within the midnight sky.
And those that scorned their brothers here
And sowed a wind of shame
Will reap the whirlwind as of old
And face relentless flame."
And thus the scissors-grinder spoke,
His face at last in view.
And there beside the railroad bridge
I saw the wandering Jew.
poem by Vachel Lindsay
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Though we hear various reports of his existence we can never find the young wizard who is able so they say to graft the soul of a girl to the soul of her lover so that not even the sharp scissors of the Fates can ever sever them apart.
quote by Harry Crosby
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Paths Of Glory
You squirt out red and turn so yellow
And then you made me kill my own
Im not afraid (coming, coming,...)
But Im afraid (coming, coming,...)
(chorus)
Blood in your eyes again
Bravery, the face of man
Blood on your mind again
Chivalry, the face of man
Blood in your lies again
Enemy, the face of man
Blood in your eyes again
Again, again, again
Is this the only path of glory?
If so, then I wont go along
Follow the trail (running, running,...)
Follow the trail (running, running,...)
(repeat chorus)
Again (x 21)
Im not afraid
But Im afraid
Im not afraid
But Im afraid
song performed by by Faith No More
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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