On Purpose
I see the blood dripping down my arm.
Red liquid in a running line
I smell the blood dripping down my arm.
Irony and salty
I hear the blood dripping down my arm.
Making splashes as drops hit the floor
I taste the blood dripping down my arm.
Mineraly and smooth
I feel the blood dripping down my arm.
A tickle covering immense pain
Because I cut myself
On purpose
poem by Kylee Bartz
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Related quotes
Dripping Water
Dripping water, dripping water,
everywhere!
from the horizon of heaven,
on the land, on the sand,
makes me happy, and so elated,
Dripping water, dripping water,
everywhere!
from the dark black clouds,
on the leaves, on the tress,
gives them a slow quick bath,
Dripping water, dripping water,
everywhere!
from the thunderstruck light,
on the eyes, on the cheeks,
makes everyone to turn the face up!
Dripping water, dripping water,
everywhere!
from the beauty of sky,
onthe mud, on the rivers,
makes musical splashes when gets strike,
Dripping water, dripping water,
everywhere!
from the love of vast scream,
to the beautiful murmors of land,
makes me sing, and dance.
poem by Tayyeba Mustafa
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Jumping Puddles
On a cool spring evening
saw cocooned young girl
skipping skipping skipping
while her mother’s blood
was dripping dripping dripping.
Not mashed
musky stench
stencil-plating
failure foetus
plastering out psyche
aberrant aborted spleen.
But razored edge
editing adult life.
Themes Of Domestic Violence!
See also ‘Spare The Rod’, ‘After Burn’ and ‘Male Myth Busters’.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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O! Judges Of The World
O! Judges of the World,
The Guardians of peace,
Listen!
In the ablaze valley of Kashmir,
To the dripping trickling of blood.
O! Judges of the World,
The Guardians of peace,
The breathers in the spheres of liberty,
Realize you the human rights,
And fix no limit of cruelty,
In Kashmir who inflict atrocity.
Now our houses remain or not,
Our heads, the bodies retain or not,
We will utter the word “Freedom”,
We will snatch the right “Freedom”.
O! Judges of the World,
The Guardians of peace,
Listen!
In the ablaze valley of Kashmir,
To the dripping trickling of blood.
The sons died tossingly in front of mothers,
The sisters’ shawls ragged in front of brothers,
Coated in blood is each leave and plant,
Each grain of Kashmir now does chant,
Listen to the Freedom’s band,
Look to the loyalty of the land.
O! Judges of the World,
The Guardians of peace,
Listen!
In the ablaze valley of Kashmir,
To the dripping trickling of blood.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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At Night When The World Is Sleeping
at night when the world is sleeping
i have learned to sing inside the chamber of my heart
i have become this nightingale
a black nightingale singing the songs of the full moon
at night i have become this bleeding heart
blood dripping on the floor of the house
at night i beg the moon to listen
to the songs of the black nightingale
i beg the moon
to see the blood from my heart dripping
i beg the floor to understand and for a time being
when sadness and mourning reigns in the house of my body
to keep this bleeding heart
like sands on the floor of its hands.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Blood of an Innoccent Little Vampire, Maria
Blood of an Innoccent Little Vampire, Maria
By, Demon
Maria,
Maria come to me,
Mom will sing a song to you that she once knew,
Far,
Far that angel did cross and he gave me my dear Maria,
Oh my Maria that I love so,
My little angel,
My angel of white and black,
My dear angel that I named my Maria,
My little angel covered in blood,
Oh my Maria what have you done,
Blood covering your whole body,
So many dead bodies on the floor,
So much blood every where on you and me,
The bite marks on our bodies,
Where did they come from my dear Maria,
The blood dripping from our mouths,
Oh my Maria what have we done,
The blood tastes so good to us,
The angel that gave me my Maria,
Wasn’t an angel he was a vampire,
A white haired demon with blood red eyes,
Our fangs paired with our angelic vampire.
poem by Demon Elwin
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Genghis Khan was born,
Gripping a blood clot in hand.
But Love Child more bold,
And if I can say more cold,
Grasped I.U.D. dripping blood.
tanka by Albert Price
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The Howler
There is blood
dripping, dripping
off snow white paws,
ice perfection,
caeser beauty.
You howl, dark, blood stained muzzle
piercing the air
the cold, cold broken air
that shatters soul and
thought and prose.
Your hackles raised your amber sockets
your fire-light eyes
dancing, grinning, lolling jaws
gasping
Lungs shattering-frozen glass.
You are a blizzard,
tearing across the
frozen tundra
confidence in essence,
you alone- the world your
enemy, your
arena, your solace.
You are cold, an ice sculpture-
somehow melting, but ever slow
you howl again,
for luck.
poem by Alice Miller
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My Dark Demon
Every time I see you,
a part of my heart
is torn and ripped,
beaten and mutilated;
dripping blood.
My heart still wants you,
but you have
pushed me aside.
A very special part
of me has died.
I don't feel
the same,
I have changed.
I am more dark,
a demon is
now lurking inside me;
waiting for the
perfect moment to
come out;
hungry and wanting
revenge!
I don't know how
much longer I have
until I go over the edge.
If it comes out,
it will be the end
of all humanity.
The darkness inside of me
is waiting for its chance
to taste the sweet
blood of all of those
who have caused
me to have pain.
This change won't
be for good,
no one will recognize me;
I'll be something
monstrous and evil.
My blood thirsty,
conniving demon.
poem by Jaana Coon
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Feed Like Cannibals
An attempt to stop the bleeding,
Of their own blood
Now dripping significantly in drops...
Appears to be futile!
Since the spilling of it...
Does not cause alarm.
Or an empathy from anyone.
As they continued their backstabbing charms.
Although bringing themselves drastic harm.
They've become addicted to their own applied sickness.
Accustomed to doing this to others,
They have smothered their own reasoning.
Lost in their own perceptions!
Their own blood they now bleed.
And they feed like cannibals...
Caring less they eat their own!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Window Forever, Nailed Shut!
wetness,
fallen leaves,
decaying....
the blood of
women and children
dripping to the
naked earth....
the tears of
the forgotten,
falling
like burning knives
on hollowed faces...
the distorted dreams
of the dreamless,
damp, and heady,
steaming the hungry
shameless void...
the electric singing juices
of my sweet madness,
filling your mouth,
your devouring wetness....
dripping,
falling,
steaming,
like slow peels of thunder
to the bare floor....
the window forever,
nailed shut!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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A Shower
Water flowing down his black-haired head like the Greeks'
Streaming past his dark eyebrows and his deep eyes
Down his sharp nose and past his smooth cheeks
Dripping down his lush lips, past the mouth's rise
Water flowing down his strong jaws and steady chin
Streaming past his thick neck into the collar bones it trips
Down his biceps and sculptured arms that cause a din
Dripping down his hands and delicate fingertips
Water flowing down his broad shoulders
Streaming past his chest and slender warm back
Down his muscled stomach and thighs, hard as boulders
Dripping down his knees to his calves, which can bare a whack
Water flowing down his ankles to his firm feet
Creating a pool of pure liquid on the ground
Down his hard body, the water so sweet
The liquid dripping around him, so profound!
poem by Monalno Kim
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Pain Can Not Find Comfort
A global focus must come to connect.
To erase heartbreak and the seeping of blood,
Needlessly dripping...
To advance senselessness.
We must sweep this consciousness,
Barren of empathy...
Away!
Pain can not find comfort.
It will not stay.
It can not.
Not if it finds no place to repeat these visits.
Evil flourishes in minds fed to see others grieve.
Although an eternity of suffering greets their souls...
They do not accept we all are God's creations!
But they are addicted to inflict with venom!
These young seeds nourished with taste buds for blood.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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End of Abuse
To far away
To be reached
You're to far
To hear me speak
Headed down
Annihilation
Completely ignoring self-preservation
Black and blue bruises
Divided by distraction
Attracted to the intensity
The razor blade
Brings them satisfaction
Their blood is dripping
Carrying away years of pain
They giggle to themselves
The've found revenge
Falling down
They curse those who care
Screw you, screw you, screw you
Blood soaks through the air
Just go away
Let me leave in peace
You weren't there
The times I was hit
Burned, raped or cut
His loving words
Began and ended with
you freaking slut
Go hit yourself
see how you bruise
Burn your own skin
Smell the flesh
Cut your wrist
Till blood flows free
Or rape yourself
Soon it's respect you'll lack
I have the last word
I'm dead now
And not coming back
poem by Matt Mondschein
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Needing To Be Treated And It's Halloween
You want a love depicted,
That's open free to limits.
With eyes dripping fixed on love.
And everyone you meet,
You want them left believing...
They've been picked to get your touch of love.
But then you creep and sneak and cheat,
Like a vampire seeking...
For anyone to suck them of blood.
You creep and sneak,
Like a vampire seeking...
For anyone to suck them of blood.
'Well...
I'm needing to be treated and it's Halloween.
So let me suck up all of your blood.
I said I'm needing to be treated and it's Halloween.
So let me suck up all of your blood.'
That's ghastly and too ghoulish.
'I'm needing to be treated and it's Halloween.
So let me suck up all of your blood.'
That's ghastly and too ghoulish,
And to me that's just too foolish.
'It's Halloween.
So let me suck up all of your blood.'
That's just for me too ghoulish.
'Let me suck up all of your blood.'
Is this a trick?
'I'm here to suck up all of your blood.'
You're here to trick and I wont be your treat to eat.
'Good.
I just want to suck all your blood.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Blood On Satan's Sword
They gather in congregation.
Their prophet wired into their core.
To avoid, and yet, to conquer.
The blood on Satan's sword.
They are the modern virtue.
The wax shaping onto the floor.
Solidified to overcome.
The blood on Satan's sword.
And as they all embraced their symbol.
It's fear encased within their mental.
All saintly men have cowered and trembled.
At the blood on Satan's sword.
They say we'll all be torn asunder.
If we don't fear the darkest thunder.
Then we'll face the infernal slumber.
And taste the blood on Satan's sword.
Terrified and forlorn.
Still, an answer one man seeks.
The so-called blood on Satan's sword.
Why has it always gone unseen?
He has questioned their fixed path.
They swear he'll see the fiery bath.
The stained glass adorned with wrath.
The holiest evil now is cast.
Onward they wander in plight
Are they praising whats wrong or whats right?
Raising their royal swords, not pride?
Their blades dripping of crimson lost life.
poem by Aaron Lynn
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Murdering Dreams
When no one is looking
I count the steps
in front of my house
no reason apparent.
I linger in front of photographs
that resemble you
and I allow
cruelly
the contrast
between you
and my present life.
Disappointment
is harder to bare sometimes
in real life
catapulting us
to alternative realities
concocted by our mourning minds
which seek those media dreams
of the perfect life
of escape from the flesh and blood realities
surrounding us
introducing to us
dripping disappointments
in self, others and family.
How guilt-dripping is this dynamic
where reality is seen to be
cruelly oppressive
compared to those media visions
concocted for us
by movies and tv.
Murdering false dreams
is what, therefore, the children
must do
in order to grow up
and become part of humanity.
Otherwise
a grieving shadow
that seeks that happily ever after
becomes a mind dripping
of false realities.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Catch Each Word
strain catch each word
dripping dripping
slowly from thawing ice
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Razor Blades and Pain
I feel sharp pain
As the cold razor blade
Slices thought my skin
I relish the longed-for
Pain
It's the only way I feel
I control something
I watch as my
Red blood
Falls on to the white tile
The stinging is still there
A reminder of what I've done
Again and again
The red lines appear
Gently painting a blood red picture
Depicting my life
My struggles
My hate
My sorrow
Everything bad in my life
Every overwhelming thing
Each red stroke helps me
Gives me the will
To go through one day after the next
Living for the next moment
Razor blades
Paint my picture
Dripping in rose-red ink
poem by Autumn Winds
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I'm Flying Free
Let the clouds sway with the wind,
Let there dance storm like Nataraja;
Let me uproot my soul, from its soil.
I cherish to fly from this fever,
From the weary way, of my trodden earth.
I'm a spirit who can't love, hate
Can't stick to my hackneyed soul...
Take me away away from this world,
where hatred has Medusa's head,
And the Dragon's breath...
I smell my dripping blood.
Trust won't search another,
Trust, leaving nothing, no
Bones, ashes, the burnt blood
Nothing...I'm flying free!
poem by Nilakshi Das
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No Matter Where You Look, You Always Find Something
at the start you find things with your hand
the baby that grabs whatever and takes it to his mouth
we begin that way
always
then we are fed up with our hands
we begin to take things with our minds
we read and we make the immovable move
we imagine
we stretch our minds that far enough
until we bleed
it is not the usual blood that we see dripping
it is not thick and red at all
it is the dripping of pain
our hands have become failures
our minds are shortcomings
our feet drag and stamp and wanting to go
we look for something that we do not know
we have this premise
when we knock the door shall be opened
when we ask so we shall receive
when we seek soon shall we find
we found something in the flesh
and we feel so disappointed
we try to find something for our soul
and we feel this despair
cramped in the room
we think some more on that premise
seek, seek, and seek
perhaps we shall find......
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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