Rose Like
The small slit.
The thin knife
does its job;
the wrist is crimson
like an opening rose.
poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Slit the wrist and let it flow.
Hate and pain, feelin’ it in my veins.
Hate and pain etched in my mind.
Love and hate are all the same,
Life and death are all our problems, but you treat them as there mine.
Slit the wrist and let it flow! !
Slit the wrist and let it flow! !
Life and death are all the same in my mind.
Life and death are all the same,
Play with fire and get burned.
Accusations flying my way, will they ever stop?
Slit the wrist and let it flow.
Slit the wrist and let it flow.
Life and death are all the same.
Life and death, when will it end?
Anger and frustration all boiling to the top.
Vengeance and Violence seems to be the only way.
Slit the wrist and let it flow! !
Slit the wrist and let it flow! !
Life and death, it’s all the same.
Life and death, is it my turn yet?
Death is living again.
Death is bliss I will never discover.
Slit the wrist and let it flow! !
Slit the wrist and let it flow! !
Life and death, it’s all the same.
Life and death, a new fire is born.
Death is an eternal fire being blown out.
Death is being free from the shackles of life.
Slit the wrist and let it flow! !
Slit the wrist and let it flow! !
Life and death, it’s all the same.
Life and death, it’s our destiny.
Death is the only escape.
Death is the forth stomach of a cow.
By Ariel Morris.
poem by Ariel Morris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Song To Slit Your Wrists By
Distortion
Out of phase
Washes over my sour face
My life is through
Guess I owe it all to you
Check me out
You left me wonderin
What Im about
You suck me dry
Then you spit me out
Theres still one thing
I can do
So I wrote this tune just for you
This songs to slit
Your wrist by
This song might have a twist
This songs to slit
Your wrist by
This songs my goodbye kiss
Black tears
Run down
My face
Check out the clown
Dont think Im through
Ill just keep writing my tunes for you
(chorus)
This is from me to you
With love
From me to you
With love
(chorus)
song performed by by 58
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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First rose
A heart of youthful year was yearning,
Crying out the pain; the burning
Tears would e’er remain until
An answer from the man would see them die.
A sympathetic mirror blessed her –
Softened up the curves, caressed her
Skin to help regain a calm –
Assuage a heaving breast and blushing eye.
And through a struggling mind, a chiming:
Someone at the door; the timing
Perfect and exquisite in the
Reconciliation of her woes.
She took the oak to make the parting,
‘Here! ’ a presentation startling.
Drawing deep through radiant lips, she
Kissed her very dream: a crimson rose.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
rose rose rose rose: : rose rose rose rose
rose rose rose rose: : rose rose rose rose
rose rose rose rose: : rose rose rose rose
rose rose rose rose: : rose rose rose rose
poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Moon After Day
Moon shed a tear
Moon give me fear
Moon light my way
Moon after day
Moon give me strength
Moon has no length
What I want to say,
Is Moon after day
Moon is full
Moon is dull
Moon light my way
Moon after day
Moon is my life
Moon gave me a knife
Moon slit my wrist
Moon a wonderful bliss
What I want to say
Moon after day!
The Little Slit in the Tail
I’M GLAD that the Bushmen can’t see me now
A-doing it tall in the town;
I’ve an inch-brimmed hat on my sun-burnt brow—
And my collar jumps up and down.
I’m wearing a vest that would charm a snake,
And a tie like a lost soul’s wail;
And I’m dressed in a coat of the latest make,
With a little slit in the tail:
With a little slit in the tail of it,
With a little slit in the tail.
My pants alone are a thing of joy,
And they’re built to show my bends,
With a crease behind and a crease before,
And a little curl in the ends.
I carry my nose-rag in my cuff,
And the lot should get me gaol—
I paid five guineas for my rig-out,
And one for the slit in the tail:
For the little slit in the tail of it,
For the little slit in the tail.
poem by Henry Lawson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sea Rose
Rose, harsh rose,
marred and with stint of petals,
meagre flower, thin,
sparse of leaf,
more precious
than a wet rose
single on a stem --
you are caught in the drift.
Stunted, with small leaf,
you are flung on the sand,
you are lifted
in the crisp sand
that drives in the wind.
Can the spice-rose
drip such acrid fragrance
hardened in a leaf?
poem by Hilda Doolittle
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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Suicide! !
Suicide
It's all i think about
Suicide
Can't get it out
Suicide
So hard to resist
Suicide
resist the urge to slit my wrist
Suicide
wishing i had a gun
Suicide
all i have is a small razor
Suicide
so i drag the blade across my legs and arms
Suicide
wishing to do myself much more harm
Suicide
and i wake soaked in blood
Suicide
cuts all over my body
Suicide
and im still somehow alive
Suicide
deep and long so much blood lost
Suicide
how am i still here?
Suicide
I really need a gun
Suicide
one day... one day
Suicide
poem by Kaliaha Hogue
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Buddhist Lesson # 2
enlightment,
the act of opening,
like a rosebud,
like a mother,
opening the door...
like a child
opening a present,
like a woman
opening to a man....
opening...
all the hidden chambers,
every door to every
secret kingdom of the soul.....
opening the box that holds
your secret thoughts, desires....
opening...
the door of the cage,
letting the winged breath fly....
opening....
your heart to itself,
and to all hearts beating....
opening....
the vault of conceptions,
the entrance to the tomb
of past lives and memories....
opening...
your hands to the world
as if it were your neighbor,
and you, it's home!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Writing In Thin Slices...
it is like a big tuna that lands in the shores of your mind,
you view it and it is too big for your keeping
you take a sharp knife then have a thin incision
you open the think slimy skin and slice but a very small and thin portion
of its raw flesh
less the blood
this is sushi poetry
your wasabe is the clear sea
your chopstick your skinny fingers
your long tongue savors the rawness
of this delicacy
in real life we do not take much of the fish body
only thin slices
and then we make conclusions
without causing much ruin
of what is big and unaccounted for
you set the big fish free
into the deep ocean
it has its own destiny
you have taken the sample of what it tastes
of what it is all about &
that is surely enough
then you go on with a stick in your hand
you scurry the sands
for those tiny diamonds
under the midday sun.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Pain #2
Slit my wrist take away the pain
slit my throat i'm to blame
this pain hurts so much
the pain i feel in every touch
hold me closer tighter than tight
hold me tighter through the night
lift my pain above my head
do it fast before i'm dead
the first cut is always deep
the pleasure you get from the blood that seeps
laugh at me thats what i'd do
but you dont know what i'm going through
depressed emotions feel my head
so depressed i dont dream in bed
i have attempted suicide
these thoughts, feelings, and actions i must not hide
the pain i'm feeling i cant describe
this painfull evil fearful vibe
poem by Jennifer Johnson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Pain
the pain is almost to much to bare
and i almost don't care
as i put the blade on my wrist
out comes crimson love such a bliss
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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Crimson Insane
Crimson Love,
who can this be,
Not I,
not you,
nor anybody,
look to crimson so enviously,
smile and grin,
look what you could have been,
Look at crimson now
what do you see?
Falling apart,
a crimson mind shackled yet free,
I'm losing it..... realities touch,
I'm going insane, this life is to much,
Forget all this... but memories remain,
I laugh at the humor, that is crimson insane.
poem by Crimson Love
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Small Wire
My faith
is a great weight
hung on a small wire,
as doth the spider
hang her baby on a thin web,
as doth the vine,
twiggy and wooden,
hold up grapes
like eyeballs,
as many angels
dance on the head of a pin.
God does not need
too much wire to keep Him there,
just a thin vein,
with blood pushing back and forth in it,
and some love.
As it has been said:
Love and a cough
cannot be concealed.
Even a small cough.
Even a small love.
So if you have only a thin wire,
God does not mind.
He will enter your hands
as easily as ten cents used to
bring forth a Coke.
poem by Anne Sexton
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Slit My throat
Tears are stained
against my cheeks
blood is gashed agaisnt the walls
all i have to say is slit my throat and lay me to sleep
I want out of this crule harsh world
everyone is mean to me
they hurt me
beat me
and make fun of me
Most of the time though
they end up hurting me
so as i cry out into the night
i want my last words to be
slit my throat and lay me to sleep
Lay me to sleep,
killme,
murder me,
do something, but if you do
slit my throat first
an lay me to sleep in a grave
poem by Dominique Lange
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The Sentenced
And now I leave my mask outside
The door.
Some sick joke, Your
Horror film sense of humor,
And that is what I love about you.
That slit-my-wrist kind of love
That leaves me broken and hopeful
When the smoggy sky turns dark at the
End of everyday.
It's made me come to the conclusion that
You are the rope, and I am the
Sentenced.
poem by Catherine Allen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Cut Throat
Delia Demoat cut her husband’s
Throat. Delia slit it clean. She held
His hair tight with her small hand
In a firm grip. There was little fight.
Unexpected and sudden. He slumped
In the chair blood shooting across
And spraying the TV screen. Delia
Released his hair and stood back
The bloody knife in her right hand.
She was shaking, her hands shook.
On the floor by the armchair where
He sat a small book. Blood-soaked
Pages and cover. A gift from his lover.
She dropped the knife, stared at the
TV screen, some I Love Lucy show,
Canned laughter, black and white.
Flickering images. She peered over
The back of the armchair. He was
Slumped bloodied there. She ached,
The bruises showed on arms, her split
Lips mouthed words. Delia breathed
Hard, spat on his head, the phlegm
Sat there on his hair; she sniffed air,
Smelt cigar smoke, his aftershave.
She looked up. Lucy gazed at her on
The screen, canned laughter once more,
Surreal; show over, she peed on the floor.
poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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1.06 Little By Little Does The Trick
Even the smallest does count,
Little or small has its sound,
A dropp of water or a stick,
A thin thread or a brick.
[14] - 1
Drops of water fill the ocean,
Small bricks make a house,
Together sticks or thin thread,
Show strength and load do bear.
[15] - 1
Alone it is difficult to stand,
Unity gives strength that's grand,
It is the small - little by little,
Doing tricks - strength from brittle.
[16] - 1
poem by Munnan Misra
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Love Sonnet 05: If I May Say, That Crimson Rose You Wear
If I may say, that crimson rose you wear,
Looks red, but tainted, not as red so pure,
Its tints of violet, a purplish smear,
Bespeaks not of your ways, true and demure,
I hate to think what damasked signifies,
Though rose so patterned and motley is rare,
But rose for you, must know no butterflies,
Uncrossed and not grafted, of hybrids, bare;
Will fitting rose be one, not there at all?
If it will just turn out a floral waste?
And might therein, a fruiting bloom install,
Whereby, what is seen gratifies the taste?
.....Yet, that rose, I would not the least despise,
.....It rivals not the sparkle of your eyes.
poem by Reyvrex Questor Reyes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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