Cut Up Poems - Poems about Cut Up

Words Cut

Too many opinions. 
Too many people sharing their minds. 
Is it too hard to sit and think before you speak? 
Don’t you think our own conscience cuts us down enough? 
Or maybe you don’t care. 
Little do you know, I am my hardest critic. 
I want to do my best, yet my best isn’t enough.

The New Cut

Every snip feels off.
I stare at my own hair.
The sides are sharp today.
The top does not feel right.

I run my fingers through.
It is different, maybe odd.
I pause, not sure I like it.
I hope it grows on me.

Maybe they will like it.
It could be a better look.
Could even catch some smiles.
The girls might notice too.

The mirror

Soft cut

Limerence pools,
at the lip of skin.
Bleeding like I love ;
slow,
hard,
full of regret.

Words Cut

Too many opinions. 
Too many people sharing their minds. 
Is it too hard to sit and think before you speak? 
Don’t you think our own conscience cuts us down enough? 
Or maybe you don’t care. 
Little do you know, I am my hardest critic. 
I want to do my best, yet my best isn’t enough.

I’M RUNNING A GODDAMNED UNIVERSE CUT ME SOME SLACK!!!

I can’t imagine 
how painful it is to 
be God. 

Trying your hardest 
to make a beautiful painting, 
only to have the characters 
you created complain and 
mock the world around 
them. 

Why does God let bad things 
happen to good people? 

Pretty sure you’d walk 
away from the canvas too 
if it spat back

Buzz Cut

Sirius is approaching the gate
dragging the hot and humid like bait.
	Scorching dog days are back.
	A violent attack!
I fear I will burn my shaven pate!

Cut

Cut my wrist and watch it bleed
drip down my arm feed the earth
beneath me. Grow red weeds
beneath my feet, cry me a river 
overfeed my seed.

Close my eyes while darkness follows
open my mouth my throat swallow 
my sorrows. Throw my head against 
the wall for I am weak. Grab my throat
bend at the knees, heart

The Plants Cut,I Don't Know

THE PLANT CUT,I DON'T KNOW


Oh! how I worry about them
I don't know whose name
The plants red and yellow
Whose pain I hardly swallow.


What means of that Britishian
But geninuely I like as vegetation,
I'm hurt they were ut rudely
Only for this that are toxicly
With long horn,but I swear
One day the all cut,cause faults bear.

clean and cut open

sober now,
and every second screams louder than the last.
the silence i begged for
now drips like acid through my spine.

when i was high, 
the world floated —
hazy, dull-edged, 
a soft lie i could breathe in.
without choking on memory.
without shaking from truth.

but now i wake up
to light too sharp for eyes that have seen too much,
and sleep

Curly Top

Ouch! Please mommy stop it’s not fair 
I pulled on her robe as she pulled on my hair
Halfway through combing out my long curls
mother hurries to get to the other girls
Gentle brushes won’t tame unruly locks now grown
sentimental first hair cut marks a milestone
I never thought I’d cut it off though she’d threat
But too many

Paper Cut

a paper cut,
inevitable no matter how hard you try to avoid them,
everyone knows the pain of it,
yet someone else gets one and you say its only a small cut only hurts a small bit.
when looking at someone you never would never know they have one unless they told you,
it is easy to hide the pain

Hair Cut

My hair used to be all black
Later, mostly black tuft with white wisp
Now, a bunch of white 

Hair

As a kid my hair was a very easy fix,
just pull it back with a rubber band into a ponytail.

As a teen a ponytail was not going to work,
off to the hair shop with picture in hand.
I sat in the chair and said,
I want to look like this picture.
I sat dreaming about my great new

The Cut-Out-And-Keep Guide To Trees

the silver birch
it likes to hide
so as you search 
at eventide
you find it there with many friends
playing poker through the night

the common oak 
a wise old man
an aging folk 
since time began
grandfathers of the forest they
speak myth and folklore when they can

the sycamore
with helicopter seeds
sets out its store
among the weeds
then grows to be big and

who cut the cheese

Bright orange lobsters pointed their claws at their brother
When someone asked who had cut the cheese
The audience began to have a bit of a laugh with their mother
For they were outing each other, with a bit of ease

Who cut the cheese? Asked the magistrate again.
They pointed at each other; the sorry chaps
They probably both did

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