Submit Your Poems
Get Your Premium Membership

Best Addiction Poems

Below are the all-time best Addiction poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of addiction poems written by PoetrySoup members

View ALL Addiction Poems

Search for Addiction poems, articles about Addiction poems, poetry blogs, or anything else Addiction poem related using the PoetrySoup search engine at the top of the page.

Definition & Discussion of Addiction Poems
Read Addiction Poems

See also: Best Famous Poems

Details | Addiction Poem | |

Alice Sweet Alice

      ~Alice Sweet Alice~

        *Like Sisters*
  Everyday -- Holding Hands 
Sunday Dress -- Pink Ribbons
         *Her And I*


How can they say she did not exist
This Sweet Girl I Named Alice

The way she looked at me
-her eyes tender green
A body figure I can't describe
Together we played hide and seek
We swung in ways no one could see
This girl with pretty red curls
Who loves the sound of pouring rain.

Together we slept under the same breeze 
We carved our names on the same tree
Side by Side it Read Alice & I!
We whispered the day I fell off my bike
Alice sweet Alice, said I look good in bloody red

Every day I stared into the mirror
Alice put her left hand on my right
We share the same identical scars,
under the right and left palm.

The way she held my hand
Healed the scrapes in every fall
Beating from the bullies, she could not take
Again Alice, whispers--- "Kill Them All!"
No one ever said a word,
when she stood by my side
Alice, knew me inside and out.
She knew my eyes -When they cried!

Now I can't sleep,
Since the day Alice, fell in the abyss
Forever conscious in a self hug
--- this is no dream 

The rage took place 
--- when she left!
Burning curtains  
Empty mirrors
This Girl Named Alice, spoke of darkness
Then disappeared 

Now when I hear the sound of pouring rain
I stare at the shadows on the wall
I allow myself to soak in the abyss of where it started all.

My hair of red, is not the same
These cuts are all that remain
The only clue in which Alice, was here!
Holding on to stainless blade

ALICE SWEET ALICE! 
Please call my name!
Why did they say she never held a single breath?
I know she is real, she's existed
Why else would I had let her cut my wrist?

This Sweet Girl 
"I YELL FOR ALICE!"
Visits again ---
Who is to believe?
For everyone says 
Alice lives inside my head.

By;PD

Details | Addiction Poem | |

PLAGIARIZING

"Mine all Mine!"

A thief I long to be
Your eyes original like the moon and sea

A lover in the world............
An Anthology, you walk and talk like the word "AMOR."

The words you send, I nicely tuck under my pillow
Every note every line you left behind 
I memorized till they became all mine
Word-for-word, 
Unauthorized I scrape the concrete calluses off the tongue
Pirating the perfect dramatic monologue look,
Basking through the passage around your Bio, 
Lost in the musky scent -around the sonnet of your aura light 
Epic enough, I reach inside to feel every idyllic rhyme
A strong iambic meter curse, conjuring up the perfect verse
In you I lift a copy paste from your lips, 
No need to credit the sources in your bliss
The sweetest undamaged sensual memorandum book
A moment I stole and sealed without copyright proof

My dearest Poet, 
When you move across the room
I see a thousand arrows that follow from behind, 
Indulged when you speak and point out verse per verse
I am a victim pampered by your words,
Sponging every line, adding them to my crib notes 
Improved wordplay that infringed my everyday diary
A haiku so tangible, it sets the perfect images in my dream,
Hypnotize after I read your first love poem
A printed feeling--
Borrowed from the sun

pd

Details | Addiction Poem | |

Plethora of Poetry

~STRIP TEASE~     Featuring:) SKAT

Silver Skimpy Ink, String, A POET DESTROYER's bling, bling
Think of me as a human ditty delicious decoration,
Something along the line of a sweet tooth temptation
Cherry tastes, between the slit of tender toast 
Fine jumble jam slams down the tongueless throat 
Dance like a diamond on The tight South Pacific Rim
I'll feed you with a slithering seductive sound
My hair soaking, -wet and wild, tonight I trim
A dulcet apple acrostic bottom, to squeeze the greed
Feathers, on top, poetic diction describing to please
At times, I'm in deep dire need of something sweet, and sour 
Endless epic words, and ode to the naked poetic world
We The Women and Men of poetry,
Reveals far more than any nudity found in a bar
It does not matter how you do it or who you are.
I'm an entertainer, of Poetry, 
The good, the bad, the freaking awesome
Don't worry, I keep my clothe On :)

---

Symbol of the spiritual Sexy SKAT Slang
--Provocative-- A slippery succulent, scrumptious kiss 
Counterparts working the tension, another arrant appetite
I am the Illuminati illusion, laminating luscious illustrated letters  
Indulging in the, satire of one stilt spoken sunset
Like a child's spiking temperature, I often throw tantrums, 
Teasing attentions, by incorporating a pole, paper and pen, 
If someone is uncomfortable with facing the fact, 
When I reveal everything, without removing my high heels
Then you must not be worldly or women and man enough 
I love to spoil and slur my scenery, using my best assets
My strength and power parallel, any unique universe 
That's how confident the audience makes me feel
We The Women and Men of poetry,
Reveals far more than any nudity found in a bar
It does not matter how you do it or who you are.
I'm an entertainer, of Poetry, 
The good, the bad, fantastic and fabulous
Don't worry, I keep my clothe On :)


~A Poet Destroyer Collaboration~

Details | Addiction Poem | |

Midnight Poet

Whisper's of October  

Whispers in this soup bowl
20 minutes after its muse explodes,
Daylight, remains nothing more than a dream 
Avoiding the howling sound in mid September's stream
Writing about a ginger light,
  found in the depths of everything
Taking from the sitting twilight, numb, tranquilized 
Exposing and expressing the emotions found inside
An attic lost in the Ancient sky  ---awaits 

A poetic hand is formed ---reaching out
In the hiss of darkness, 
Listen-in,  the echoes of October are calling
A halo, that reconciles a mysterious monarch moon
A mano grip in which summons a deep voice
  of sweet serenity
Poets posting poems along the midnight page
Each poet can write a poem and mimic free fallen verses,
One might  call it a creative craving curse,
Wordmaster's whose words speak for themselves
Voiceless-
They feel, and spills the will of idolized ink,
Blind-handed, splitting day from night

Warm whispers, needing no food to consume
Migraines of ink, feeding the soul
Burning Pages, over used pens
They've forgotten the pretty flowers
Living like lions, who never comes out of their dens
Murmuring and devouring, the enigmas of the unknown 
Eyes behind a sieve, close tighter than before, 
They hide-
A globe created from every sky-scraped wall
Wanting to belong, a trick -or- treat*er in disguise 
No friends, everything pretend
These poets can’t be described, can't be trusted
They are the best, at what they do
For all you know this poet might be me, 
This poet might be you

By: PD

Details | Addiction Poem | |

Nightmares and Razor Blades

I stare at my ceiling,
I start to wonder, why am I not healing?
Then it dawns on me,
The nightmare clip starts to roll.
I shake and shiver and wince at every little thing.
I'm scared to death, 
What does this all mean?
I start to cry,
I feel as if I might die.
Then I grab my blade, 
The tears come quicker.
My breath starts to quicken,
My grip on the blade makes my knuckles turn white.
In the mirror is where I see that my ivory skin is now blotchy and red.
I tell myself, "This may be the last time, if you finally cut deep enough."
So I try my best not to make a sound 
As I sit up in bed and hold my wrist out in front of me. 
I count to three,
One, 
I put the blade to my wrist.
Two,
I start to add pressure.
Three,
I yank the blade across my skin,
It pierces and then I start to bleed.
I suddenly want it to stop, 
But there's no going back now. 
I wonder why it came to this,
I know nobody cares about me,
I know nobody is going to forget me.
Quietly I say, "I'm sorry."
But nobody is there,
No one will ever be.
I start to fade out of this world,
My addiction would finally be gone,
And so would I.
I was lost, 
Lost and angry. 
Suddenly, it was gone,
I woke up screaming.
The pain was oh-so real.

Details | Addiction Poem | |

Wet brain- fictional

Theres this knawing in my tummy
A burning in my ear
I feel your presence next to me
Yet you are hardly here

I'm not sure when it happened
but now it's crystal clear 
Though your body's in the room
Youre vacant. --Insincere 

I wonder- was it worth it? 
To throw it all away?
All the things you squandered
to keep the pain at bay

All the things you had to pawn
just to get you through your day
Traded growth for comfort
Traded gold for hay

And I don't think you'll ever realize
the person you used to be
Now on a quest with no direction
In drunken ecstasy 

These thoughts so sick and twisted
They make me want to flee
Spinning round in circles
A pirate lost at sea

I wish that you could see it
the way I clearly do
Suddenly I wonder
Who am I talking to?

Look around one last time
There's no one here. It's true. 
And that is when reality
finally does come through

I see it there in front of me
A reflection in a mirror
I know it now for certain
Death is creeping nearer

I poor myself another drink
I hold my poison dearer
Then anything I've ever held 
Reality becomes much clearer

I know I'll never break away
from this cage I built
It's destiny to end it here
There's nothing left but guilt

So I gently shut my eyes
And pray I'll quickly wilt
I look for one last sign of comfort
Grab tight to my quilt

The one my mother gave to me
on her final day on earth
She died too from the bottle
Pitiful, without self worth

I set a lonely fire with a lonely match
I watch it slowly flicker as I lay by the hearth
There was never once a chance for me
Doomed from the day of birth

Details | Addiction Poem | |

Whisky Moment

~the Fear of Never~ A DRINK TO REMEMBER!


   And the fire catches every time, my heart needs a sip
I bear no shame pouring, poisoned pabulum whisky down 
Lost in a place with hungry whores, ink paying  gigolos 
This night a respected gentleman put's on his evening gown
He sits in front of a mic, playing the same old sad song
Fitted out in drag, his wife has no clue
Holy breeders trying to change my shoes
Lingering from the Cute Chinaman, running his tab sky high
Bluebirds of jealousy, set round the vintage Barstool like fools
Minds overpowered and threaten to the very nub

I am drunk-- in his eye, 
he receives a macabre confession of possessiveness 
I am drunk-- in her eye,
she has a sick confession of subconsciousness 

Broken loose from a negative, regressive state of mind
Sit and enjoy this broken bottle of champagne 
Unspoken rage in every empty can left behind
A shot glass drops from my unstable hands longing to hold a pen
I look into a mirror and embrace every meaning of stability
Blotting out the madness behind a metal cage of reality
At times, I feel the need to bring down this masquerade 
A drink so hostile, I can't even remember my image and name 

Too many scars, from the foster of paper and pen
My dependents are drunken demons from a traumatized childhood 
Tonight I will legislate a special thanks
Holding up my cup, until death finds my note 
I will smile, at every Judge and Jury, during karaoke night
Shutting down my eyes, fantasizing everything's gonna be alright
I will not  jilt knowing, writers block haunted my days away
Insecure hoarding monsters enjoying spoil forgotten words
Tonight I thirst like never before, my tongue inscribes around a tin cup
I am not eaten up by it, no matter how long I've drowned in it
This is my kind of whisky, my thoughts, my days of ammo 
To tell you the truth, I possess no desire to drink
It's all about the love of poetry and how sober I've become (WITHOUT)
The monsters that reside inside, have one thing to say

"Give me Poetry, or give me Death!"

by: PD

Details | Addiction Poem | |

Cocaine Is Her Name

COCAINE Is Her Name ( Addiction ) COCAINE is her name. They call her COKE for short. She came into this Country, without a Passport. Since then - she has made a lot of scum rich. Others have been murdered and found in a ditch. She is more valued than diamonds and worth more than gold. Use her just once and you too - will be sold. She will make a straight A student forget his books and a Beauty Queen forget her looks. She can make a known speaker become a bore. She can take your Mother and turn her into a Whore. She can make a Teacher forget how to teach. She will make a Preacher - not want to preach. She can take your rent money and you'll be evivted. She will murder your babies or, they will be born addicted. She will make you - rob, steal and kill. When you are under her POWER - you have no will. Remember my friend - her name is BIG C. If you try her just once - You may never be free. She has already destroyed ACTORS, POLITICIANS and many a HERO. She has decreased bank accounts, from millions to zero. Shooting and killing is a common affair. Once she's in charge - you are under her SPELL. Now that you know - what will you do? I tell you my friend it's all up to you. The day you decide to sit on her saddle - the dession is one that no one can STRADDLE. So pay close Attention and listen well - because if you don't - you can wind up in HELL...
05/08/2013 Note: Just hoping to make a difference. For S.K.A.T."S contest

Details | Addiction Poem | |

S U B L I M E

SUBLIME

Sublime
I've been shedding snakeskin...
so blind
I've been destroying the noise
my worst enemy

Deconstructing my identity 
soaking shoulder deep
in oceans of humility 
feasting upon fruits of tranquility

breaking shackles  
freeing ankles
from bloody mud puddles 
razor blade anxiety

rising to a  place 
where yesterday 
flees irrelevant 
tomorrow
is insufficient 

Yet
this moment 
of SUBLIMITY
right now...
forever remains
a fearless paradise

Details | Addiction Poem | |

The Ripping

You ripped me 
One word at a time
Shredded my smile
Pulled at my sensitivity
I was never strong enough 
To pull back my paper heart

You took the pieces of me
Arranged them in your perfect order
I prayed for the wind to come
Hoping I would be carried away
Flutter to a new more loving home
Instead, I endured your paper cuts 

I became your paper mâché 
Shaped into the image of you
Glued with your inconsistancies
Coated in your endless smoke
Sarcasm and beer
I marinated in your endless tears

You painted me with a retarded label
Your stupid failure of a son
Forced to endure that brush
It was with your eyes I learned to see
Everyone else was better than me
I was a failure times three

My inside empty
I became light as air
As time went on I ceased to care
It happend slowly you weren't aware
Until one day I floated past your stare
No longer raw and bare

I clawed and ripped
Rewrote my page
My renaissance 
coming of age
Not your puppet on a stage
Contorted by your rage

I have lost you to your death
The air much clearer, still I feel your breath
Within my doubts your lies still hide
Yet within me a new strength resides
Your image of me no longer applies
Doubt and fear reduced in size
No longer your "DUMMY" 
On faith I rise

For Charlotte's contest, heart and soul confessional.
Written, September 1st 2014.







Details | Addiction Poem | |

Whiskey Flower

Swallowing nectar from a whiskey flower,
Raining inside me like a summer storm shower.
A fire in full bloom burning with every sip,
Unfolding the silk petals of my sun kissed lips.

Eyes sink shut against the jukeboxes serenade
Vibes in lyrics mesmerizingly played.
Slow the seasons of my soul become exposed.
Fruit from the garden of Eden readily grows.

With every drink of courage, I ready my will,
A ticket to heaven, yet my heart beats still.
Numbers on a napkin, wrote in lust colored ink,
Experience pleads from the bottom of my drink.

Stung by the thorns of a whiskey flower, I bleed.
Dark are the droplets of unquenchable need.
The voice of a clock tells me it is time to go.
Stumbling into a darkness, many will never know.


12-03-2014

Details | Addiction Poem | |

Concrete Bed

The sun is beating down upon my head
Still trying to sleep on my concrete bed
Angry birds are pecking down at my feet
Looking for a tiny morsel of food to eat

My sick head is pounding, I need a drink
Without it, I can't function, I can't think
My pockets are empty not a dime to my name
I'll have to go hustle for I haven't any shame

I'll beg and I'll plead for all your loose change
Not caring that I'm smelly or kind of strange
The only goal I have is to get one pint of gin
I'd sell my soul to the devil or commit any sin

Once I have that possession I'll be all right
Numbing my senses all throughout the night
No demons telling me I'm doing it wrong
For with my addiction my feeling is strong

My head may be wounded but my soul's still intact 
Just leave me alone, my heart has been attacked


Details | Addiction Poem | |

A choice


                  A vulture and owl
                        Solitary and predatory
                        Watch and wait

                 The wastelands
                         Scarred by driving winds
                         Baked hard by an abusive sun
                         Void of life, a deep emptiness
                         The silence of desolation

                 Eyes down, he enters
                       Withering in self-pity
                       Cut-off from intimacy
                       Breath reeking of desperation
                       Bones cleaving to his skin


                            Has A choice
                      w                           b
                     a                               i      
                   s                                  g
                  t                                     c
                 e                                        o
                l                                            u
              a                                               r
             n                                                 a
           d                                                     g
          s                                                        e

Kill the pain                                           Face the pain
Bondage                                                Freedom                        
Bed of piss and vomit                             Bed of hope and redemption
Alone – Death                                        Together – Life



                             What will he do . . . ?



A vulture and owl
      Solitary and predatory
      Watch and wait







To the struggling -- never give up hope!



David Meade
11/21/2014

Details | Addiction Poem | |

This Buds For You

-This buds for you!-
-It takes one to know one!-
-I know you are, but what am I?-

A second hand, on my stopwatch, going nowhere!
You are a joker, a smoker, a midnight stroker  
<-------How, about that, Steve Miller song

I'm not here to talk about the way you comment a poem
That's not how I roll, now listen, and listen well, 

I don't care, about them words you speak
A whining sheep, every time you don't score
Crying behind close doors, 
Boo-Who, I did not place high in so-and-so's contest
Gosh&dammit, not everyone's on a quest
Blogging, about the day, your poem got demoted to nonsense
Trying to comment relentlessly, 
You can't top, a mountain that has no setup

I'd rather leave a copy paste comment, 
"than being fake as fake can be"
At least, my copy paste was a song, 
in which welcome the new poets on
Treating, everyone with love and security
Your invites, are cold and force, to you it's not about community
No motion, to your notion, simple, and disgusting

I don't know why you think, we are competing, 
Long ago, I left you bleeding, no reason to be defeating
Your paranoia, has you thinking, it's all about the points,
It's getting old and boring,
You cry babies are nothing more than jokes and hypocrites
Hey you, this ain't dominoes, we done passed every Jo-Jo
When, I have time I sit here for fun, my trigger finger on the gun

Reading, commenting, until my day is done
You think, because someone, left a copy paste 
That your poem was not read,
Perhaps, it was not understood, or enjoyed
Or, a welcome to the neighborhood
A nice smile, from me to you
Nice poem, You Rock!
So What! ---- WOW!

This Bud's for you
I think it's time for you to GET A LIFE!
Be glad someone took their time, in checking you out twice
Not, everyone on this site, is full of bull-shit
The smallest words, are more likely to be legit 
I don't need and expensive comment, 
I don't want to be impress, on who left the best comment
Please do not make love to my poem!

A nice pat on my back will do, 
Now that my friend, puts a smile on my face
To know you care, to know you were there:)

Peace Out,

~SKAT~

Details | Addiction Poem | |

GOD

GOD

I praise him
I kneel before him
I lay and pray and go to sleep
Knowing his eyes are upon my dreams
Like incense that runs, through the air
He seems to rule and flow through my night sky
Like a GOD!

He holds my love in his hands
Gave me the will to be strong
He's more than my shelter
He's more than my guided stars at night
He holds me in his fist so tight
Like the sanity, that keeps me together
He's the warmness of the light through the night
With his GODLINESS!! 

In the arms of his temple,
He allows me to sit on the right side of his throne
With his presence by my side, I never feel alone
He healed my sadness with the flow of his veins
He healed my rage, and gave me the gift of serenity
You're my GOD!

No one will never know what I feel for him
All the blessings that I have, 
Came since the day I found him,
Now I have my very own GOD!

by; p.d.

Details | Addiction Poem | |

Burn

What powers held me in this tortured love
Shame and excitement danced around me
Grasped by the cunning illusions, deceiving
My void self image, coercing my
Vanities until I believed the insideous lies

You robbed my soul, knowing
Your presence was sealed with death's kiss
Tossing and turning in the night
I let you back in no matter the cost

Oh, and this is good -
I pretended not to be hostage to your
Cunning facade of empty promises
Even letting you linger in the presence
Of my most cherished posessions
As they also became sick in your stench

Finally, enough denial and nearly destroyed
Still strong enough to rid myself of you
I see you for what you really are, a drag
Killer of desire, coaxing many
Also blinded by your evil

In the last hours of whatever life I have left
And the coffin is near, I'll wonder 
Why I let you hold me for so long










Details | Addiction Poem | |

It's over

You have no idea how much you'll be missed
We've seen each other every day for years
Though you've touched my lips, we never once kissed

Picking me up when I was brought to tears
Calming my nerves before something new
Bringing strength to get over my fears

It seems so scary, not sure what I'll do
Good times and bad, exciting or lame
You were always there to help me get through

Life without you just won't be the same
But it had to end, something I've always known
It's finally time to put out that flame
 
Our love I can no longer condone
This relationship which I now regret
I need to learn to get by on my own

All that you have done I'll never forget
As I butt you out, my last cigarette

John Early
Written for TERZA RIMA about anything you like - poetry contest

Details | Addiction Poem | |

elegant giraffes


He wondered if his verse was made for fools
and cretins that splish-splash alongside whales
composing dull sonnets was chased by bulls 
- by elegant giraffes and racing snails.

Amid the chickens in his country cot,
while gulping bourbon the pig-farmer writes
his scribble verse turns to an artless blot
and straight he gulps one more for his insights

Oh, detrimental muse of his confused,
absconding inspiration that evades
his talent which was alcohol-abused,
and like the content of each bottle, fades:

......Inspiring advent of a healthy burp
made pigs and chickens to comment "superb"!

© G. V. 06-27-2013 All rights reserved

Sponsor: Judy Konos
Contest Name: The Lazy Contest

Details | Addiction Poem | |

Why its still you


Every time our eyes met, I started liking you
But no clue when & y I became addicted to you…

There’s no mark of you left anywhere around
But y do I cherish bits and pieces of you…

I always knew it’s a delusion & momentary
But y I’m consoling myself its real & forever too...

There is nothing special about WE,
But y m striving to carve something special for u..

Whereas hundred sparks don’t kindle my heart 
But Y do a single whisper from you….  

Whether I am roaming in my city or the other,
Y my eyes keep looking for someone just like u...

Long since haven’t got a glimpse of u in dark blue,
But y I dreamt of flying high with you

I hate all the tears shed, being apart from you,
But y do I adore many moods of you….

Not the first time my world is missing something
But y every time feeling for you is damn new..

 This spring flowers were blooming and I was gloomy
 Y wind blew me away, spreading fragrance of u...

What if I crossed paths with you once,
Y every road seems to lead me back to you…

While struggling to erase your name all over again
Isn’t it amazing I have penned a poem thinking of you…??

I wonder if it’s your charm or your weird ways,
Y my mind is frantically stuck on you..,

Ohh sweetheart com’on till me once
Y still Its YOU…Incredibly it’s YOU!!

I wanna take a breath now. .. Let the silence take me over..
As whatever I say, can’t get enough of you…!!!

Can you see I feel so incomplete without you
 Baby but why its You.. still its You…

Details | Addiction Poem | |

Jukebox Gigolo

Old Zack Adams sits a slouch’n so sloppy drunk on a bar-room stool,
Wear’n his cheap-threaded cowboy suit and a stained satin shirt.
All the while a peek’n and a leer’n at women like an old poor fool,
But think’n man tonight—Oh Boy, I’m really gonna hit the pay dirt!

Old Zack in this small Texas town is reputed to be quite a lecherous hoot,
As he raucously and recklessly rolls old worn quarters into the slot
Of the old bar-room Wurlitzer while snicker’n and smil’n to boot,
And plays his tearful and twangy jerk-water music while smil’n a lot!

Old Zack is this town’s “Jukebox Gigolo,” a real lover boy—Oh Boy!
He wears his patched cowboy hat and his scuffed silver-studded boots,
Meant to impress young girls and bar-fly floozies who have the Joy!
Of being with this bewildering, withered, weathered man and his boots.

Old Zack has a fad’n recollection of events and a silver mane of hair,
With a cigarette in his hand and cuss’n like a nasty little stable boy,
He downs whiskey shots and tequila seconds like no tomorrow on a dare,
While chas’n whiskey glass ice cubes and the tequila worm—being so coy.

Old Zack while a swigg’n down his whiskey mucho fast and direct,
He has now that blind courage to fight or to love—whichever is first, 
While the old Wurlitzer resonates a rueful hick song for a teary effect,
But Old Zack can’t move now for this song has him sobb’n the very worst.

Old Zack with his nicotine-whiskey breath and his pockmarked face,
Personifies the image of an ideal loser of a man—with problems all,
While fight’n, scream’n, and punch’n others to gain some precious space,
He’s a showcas’n his reservoir of manly prowess—with problems all.

Old Zack was young once and not so wild, withered, weathered like now,
And he thought he was a really smart dude—all right moves and all,
But was really a man act’n far above his funny fake smart brow, 
And now a cry’n on his bar-room stool and act’n like a fool before a fall.

Old Zack Adams—alcoholic as he truly is and sly and slick as a Texas fox,
Is not really so good with his women friends nowadays—for his real talent
Is in roll’n those old worn quarters pieces one-by-one into the old Jukebox,
Sing’n—“I’m the Jukebox Gigolo”—“a Drunk and a Delight,” that’s real talent!

Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved, Schoeningen, Germany 
(October 7, 2014) (Rhyme poetic format)

Details | Addiction Poem | |

Bullet Proof

                     Bullet Proof

If I was a bullet I would travel real fast
Take showers in the past
Use gun powder to keep me dry
Shop at Target
And avoid people at all cost
If I was a bullet I would buy a gun
A small one, for company
Challenge Superman to a race
Or simply let him leap tall buildings, if he were so inclined
As I leap to my own conclusions by his side
If I was a bullet I would go to Mexico
Drink tequila real slow to get inebriated 
Finish off bottles of 90 proof vodka to prove a point
That I can become bullet proof in any old joint


9/01/14 The Poet - Poetry contest

Details | Addiction Poem | |

Her Masterpiece Is Her Story

Her paintbrush is a razor,
Her canvas, her wrists,
"I deserve the pain."
She shrugs and insists.

One day the brush will push down,
And it will cut so deep,
That this girl will fall
into an eternal sleep.

She doesn't remember how she started
What brought her interest to this,
How do you discover,
that cutting is your form of bliss?

No one would have guessed that she does it.
No one would have considered this one.
This girl is forever fighting a battle,
that she thinks the demons have won.

Her artwork is all over her,
Her beauty is on her thighs,
and if you look in her old trash,
you'll find her letters of goodbye.

Her masterpiece is quite disturbing,
Her masterpiece is a little gory,
Her artwork is her escape.
Let me tell you her story.

She compares herself to every person,
She is compared to each girl.
She thinks she's hideous,
And there's this boy that is her world.

She was bullied and picked on,
She was teased from head to toe,
Hard to believe that her best friend,
was her one and only foe.

Then later she disliked every little thing,
Her body, face and even her mind,
Soon she saw she was a failure,
and it was just in due time...

That this girl couldn't take it anymore
She'd decided she was done living this,
So one day she went home
and decided to end it.

Everyday for multiple days,
This girl would try to drown,
Hard to believe this girl at school,
never ever wore a frown.

Sometimes she'd just fall asleep crying,
Praying that she'd be enough,
Because she didn't want to leave her family.
She knew about their sweet love.

This girl found hope in small things eventually,
She soon would see this beautiful light,
and find a REAL best friend,
that helped her put up a fight.

Her masterpiece soon was leaving,
Her artwork was almost faded,
and it gave her a sick feeling,
the feeling of being jaded.

She found a boy that actually loved her,
And showed her love exists,
And this boy too had a masterpiece,
placed close to his wrists.

He related to her and she related to him.
She kissed his artwork and said he's not alone,
When she cut herself it hurt him,
Her masterpiece now wasn't just her own.

Her masterpiece effected others,
Her artwork wasn't just for herself,
She now had people, 
who saw her cries for help.

And then her family found out,
So then they saw the art too,
to them they were just scars,
To her they were the truth.

She's trying to be okay now,
She thinks she might survive,
Even though they didn't think
to take away the knives.


Details | Addiction Poem | |

Signing Off

--Goodbye--To my Addiction-

The time has come to part,
I will leave many with broken hearts
If one day you call on me,
I'm sad to say I will hold my tongue missing each one relentlessly 
I'm not doing this for me; I am doing this for you
I could stay here and win, and not give in 
But, this soup bowl comes with demons and nasty shadows
Demons and nasty shadows, taking and crashing my light
Demons I had to fight off the entire time I was here
Shadows hating the way I welcomed every poet with a happy cheer
Demons and shadows whom drown in their selfish everyday pity.

For those smiling on my departure, 
I want you to have this wonderful gift 
So please copy paste this moment from the bottom of my heart
**I hope this gift brings you laughter, knowing 
I've been sad, these past few days, drying up my final soup tears**

I will miss this part of what makes me ME -my love and lust for poetry.
I agree with many I should never surrender to the envy of demonic dust
Giving up the passion that completed a part of my soul for years
But, the reality of life, is the life's I give and given when I make love happen
In my heart I know it's time to give myself back to reality
SO AT THE END I WIN, I'm the one who ends up with an everlasting smile
I'll finally be free from this place, where most treated me unfair & unkind
Free, from the negativity of the few who hide behind a dishonest disguise?

Wait until you notice your soup bowl's going stale
You will miss me, and I will miss you
But, my enemy will miss me even more
Reminiscing the times we spent hogging up 70% of blogs,
Arguing and fighting over not agreeing with many thoughts.
But, it was never the differences of opinions, it was more like---
Let's slay the Destroyer, a name like that should never be on top
So please know I am sad, and this is not the way I want to go
I'm not leaving you because I want to 
I'm leaving you because, the rumors are 
"The soup is better without the sweetness of the poet destroyer."
The only big thing about me -was my heart not my ego 
I never claimed to be the best; 
You're the one who claimed I am good enough
You took me in and returned my love
In ways others could and would not accept.
And for you my loving poet friends, and fans
I will walk away with my dignity/integrity; 
I can CARELESS IF I PLACE OR DON'T PLACE IN YOUR CONTEST
I guess I'm finally growing up 
In becoming the bigger/better poet.

Signing Off ---Love 
The Poet Destroyer

Details | Addiction Poem | |

STAMINA

           STAMINA

No where near a force of nature.
Challenging the things that are not for sure.

Building what we can  survive.
A small measurement when we strive.

Lessons when it comes to strength.
Multiplying the time found in length.

Stop and learn the sound of weakness.
Hard to find when one is restless.

Improving in a mental task.
The answers are found when we ask.

Stamina is needed between me and you.
To perform bravely in all we do.

Losing the ability to rump for long.
You're out of shape comes in way too wrong.

The idea is to learn when ideas seem to fail.
The wrong action is to bail.

Thinking, thinking what could it be.
Will not solve the problem between you and me.

Practice is  the best energy.
Memorize it and stamina will come naturally.

 
                    SKAT
                   6-29-10

Details | Addiction Poem | |

Chocolate Fountain

Chocolate Fountain Abuse- for the lover 

How easily I forgot I was allergic to chocolate
I wanted to dip the exquisite kosher in a Spanish brandy
Sweet, sweet, cavity tarnish boxes of chocolate

At a store window; a dried up chocolate fantasy goblet
A taste of spoiled milk, nothing dandy with this candy
How easily I forgot I was allergic to chocolate

Snickers Bar, melting under the spotlight for profit
Not edible, waging unassertive words like a pansy
Sweet, sweet, cavity tarnish boxes of chocolate

Chocolate pop, a candy bar coming out of the closet
There was not much bandy, about this candy
How easily I forgot I was allergic to chocolate

Stubby nuts, stomachache, bucket of vomit
Butterflies, flipping when I hear a faucet of cocoa candy
Sweet, sweet, cavity tarnish boxes of chocolate

Enrobed with small nuts, it dwells under the pocket
Caramel and peanuts American walnut vigilante
How easily I forgot I was allergic to chocolate
Sweet, sweet, cavity tarnish boxes of chocolate

~Contest~