Best Cutter Poems

She went to sleep
closing her eyes
beginning to dream
of broken butterflies
tearing her lovely monarch wings
on faithless love that angels sings...

She finds shiny metal in kitchen sink
in an evening absent light
she finds peace in cuts of pink
watching crimson blood flow feels so right..

Starlight shines upon her tears
I...

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Mutilated. I sat there; scars upon my wrist. 
Ultra sadness. Blood upon my heart. 
Tainted are we. Broken am I; shattered are you? 
Illuminate the darkness that controls. Wonders that fulfills dreams. 
Lies upon lies. Beauty is in the heart of a liar. 
Annihilate the...

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On a whim, 
a demon will grab a fist full of mind.
Slap it down- roll it out- sprinkle it with lye. 
Then pull out its cookie cutter heart.
press down hard...real hard...
Feed pieces of sanity to its hoard.
Half devoured they crap you out.
Into the shadow of...

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This is a cookie cutter culture
We all must think the same
If you're outside the PC box
Talking heads call you insane

You better hold all their values
Zombie minds.. must be lead 
Christians are old fashioned
Everyone knows, God is dead

There are no absolutes today
What counts are opinion polls
Kiss...

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There once was a tiny village where a stone cutter lived with his family.
He loved his job and he was the best there ever was. For no one could cut a stone the way that 
he did. Some even said it was in his blood,...

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Contact with the skin
It hurts but in a good way
Now I feel alive....

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Driving through the broken, potholed streets
Lined with houses spanning decades
Each with a thousandfold more character
than that of the cookie cutter impostors they call homes

I appreciate the creaks and groans
Much more than the sheen of granite stones

Value comes down to values.
What are yours?
...

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Like the rapist 	
and the molester,
a nose-cutter with 
chilling impulses
emerges from
mind’s murky nook.

He always drops
atrocities 
in his wife-bin. 
Male chauvinism 
creates a 
concentration camp
in her kitchen 
and bed-room.
He’s her gadget 
producing 
hypertension.

Her nose ring 
is not 
merely a metal,
but a 
charm-multiplier. 

Alas! 
Teeth of his...

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I vividly remember the pools of blood on the floor 
the soul, once mine, standing in the door
the Pain, the scars, the blood falling drip by drip
my teeth carving their way into my bottom lip
the razor to my vanity 
unleashing my insanity
my pride, once strong,...

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COOKIE—CUTTER VERSION

true confession time stands and gears
itself to concede in honest declaration
the guilt of heeding to the scrutiny of
veiled opinion from self-seeking minds

the process is set in motion as worldly 
influences pull you to match the mould
and modify yourself  pleasing their moral
principles tweaking your...

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I was looking at the small pill-cutter box 
Which I was holding in my hand.
Blue colored with a sharp edge of the blade
To cut the medicine in halves, one-third or 
Could also be, in one-fourth, maybe.

I was thinking, simultaneously, about the news
I heard today, which...

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In a cutter he sailed
This tanned foreign man
Muscled and handsome
As i watched him step on my island

His long brown hair
Mm, shoulder length
I went weak at the knees
Losing my strength

The evening drew in
As i sat on the beach
Admiring his ship
Craving his reach

When i heard a voice
Saying...

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(for Rod Nichols)

Oh, he rode in from Texas
On that sweet, high road trail—
His bright light was infectious—
His goodness did not fail.

He made us a warm campfire
And welcomed friend and foe—
Passed along gentle wisdom,
Drinkin’ a cup of joe.

He always had a poem
On any cowboy theme—
I’m glad...

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she was granite jealous
sick of it all 
his drifting eye
yellowing indifference
the secretive calls
so while he slumbered 
she cut it off

she cut it off
with a giggling swipe
like a rabid cat
in a back ally fight 
but come morning 
nothing had changed
he hadn't noticed 
one blasted thing
the new...

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COOKIE CUTTER LEAVES

dark green cookie
cutter leaves -
so many
they shouldn’t matter?
do we love one more
than the other?
if each one gained
an inferiority complex
cut their wrists 
from the old oak tree
and flew away
to who knows why
leaving us 
with broken branches
would rain run
mascara from our eyes
produce raging rivers?
would Spring...

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