Best Drug Poems
We will walk then, you and I
When daylight shuts her weary eye;
Down the streets where beggars sleep
And drug crazed addicts spend their keep.
On streets that wind through thick and thin
Past monuments of broken sin
The painted whores who smile a lot
A rejected child that time forgot.
The evening hymn that sorrows sing
The call to prayer that church bells ring;
The sounds and smells that rape a city
The calls for help that won't find pity.
Do we have time to heal the curse
That captures all the universe
Or would it really be worthwhile
To quell the question with a smile?
But we have walked these streets before
And hoped our ears could dim the roar
Of silence gripping cold nightmares
That come unbidden up the stairs.
We share the night with lesser fools
Who stake their plight without sound rules
For each new challenge finds old pain
That lives to give then comes again.
Homo-Sapiens we call ourselves, rulers of this Earth.
Intelligent and civilized, but what is all this worth?
We're working hard to conquer space...we landed on the Moon.
We'd better solve our problems here, or soon we will face doom.
New industries and factories, constructed every day,
And poisoning the air we breathe...is this the price to pay?
Energy sources are shrinking...what happens when there's none?
Will we, as Earthlings, ever learn to work with Nature as one?
Some in this world still starve each day, while others hoard their gold.
Intelligent and civilized; at least, that's what we're told.
We cure disease with drugs that may cause sickness, the result!
How many dearly paid for this ‘experimental cult’?
We have become a plastic world where everything is fake,
From what we eat to how we look...when will we all awake?
We're civilized, we tell ourselves, but fight our fellow man.
If only we could solve world stresses through a better plan.
With government corruption, morality trending low…
The price of progress we may say...is this the way to grow?
We have upset Earth’s balanced ways, destroying Nature’s scheme...
We’re intelligent and civilized...is it all a dream?
Will we ever walk on Nature's path, take her by the hand,
Restore the beauty meant to be on Earth, our dying land?
Homo-Sapiens we call ourselves, rulers of this Earth...
Intelligent and civilized...but what is all this worth?
Screaming at the Sky
Mothers screaming mournfully at a deaf sky
holding their heads helplessly as they cry
pitiful tears for innocent, defenseless children slaughtered
in fatal cross fires, deadly drug wars
drive-by shootings, and cases of mistaken identity
on blood-splattered streets, senseless endless violence; but
who really gives a damn, only grief-stricken
mothers screaming mournfully at a deaf sky.
(Form – Enjambment posted as Verse – 8 lines with 7 words in each line.
The 1st line and the 8th line are the same)
10-21-2014
Contest: 8 Lines 7 words ~ First and Last Line Must be the Same
Sponsor: Rick Parise
Placement: 2nd
I come to the garden along, while the dew is still fresh
on the meadows. Early in the morning do the bird's sing
praises of roses and peddles. I cry, because there is no
refuge finally from the pain.
Yet long ago, a child was born, to become king, and yes
there is hope, just for believing in his name. Where is this King!
when I'm hurting and alone? He's just a prayer away, don't give
up, for he's Alpha and Omega, which means, just be strong!.
So they sent me to a place, to turn my life around. I cry, be-
cause, I am somebody no longer am I bound.
Now I know that Jesus is my refuge and no more drugs is
there for I. Thank you Lord, for the method, that's "Why Must
I Cry".
Who was that masked man?!?
Brian Williams, rides again.
He was in Amilia Earhart's plane;
even rode with the Dalton Gang.
The day the Titanic went down;
In the rescue boat when Rose was found.
He went on expeditions with Louis and Clark.
Once gave his seat to Rosa Parks.
He was actually the first man in space.
That shadow on the moon........ It's his face!
The earliest woman, they deemed to be
bones in the desert they named Lucy.
She was his niece, tho she drug her knuckles,
so he really is a monkey's uncle!
He walked miles and miles on the Trail of Tears;
wondered the desert with Hebrews for forty years.
He dated Cleopatra; drank wine with Moses;
gave the Queen of Sheba a camel and roses.
He's walked with Bigfoot in the hills;
been bitten by vampires, but magically heals.
He has had great adventures of every kind.
He's Brian Williams; a legend in his own mind.
Maybe I can be one of those news cast stars.
This is Arlene, reporting from mars........
Couldn't resist this little tribute to the wild stories of reporter Brian Williams who was fired for seemingly padding up his stories....
The Malkavian..Part 1
His mind has all the meaning of a madman that is screaming
Tortured and tormented, a life lived to be lamented
His family, drained and defeated, finally retreated
Leaving him believing that he was beyond redeeming
The doctors sent in talked of hope and healing
The drugs administered only made him more demented
Cementing the feeling, that his life is just an echo
Of the endless, timeless, all consuming screaming
His best friend is a dis-proportioned bird appropriately named Buddy
Who’s monotonous motion in drinking is somewhat soothing to his being
Though not potent enough to stop the persistent pounding of the screaming
Often he stared into the emptiness of nothingness contemplating the beauty of its
existence
Only to find his mind is drowning in a confounding conundrum he can’t quite define
It's hard to be philosophical when your mental testicles haven’t dropped to the appropriate
level
So sometimes he whispers tongue twisters until his brain blisters
Madmen mask madness in mindless task of mass mayhem
It was easy for him to pretend to be prim and proper
Just a mask to don in order to dupe his doctor
Circumventing the system that couldn't’t save him
He was as he always had been and would be
In constant pain and agony with no desire for sympathy
Just in need of some freedom from his prisons and medications
Meditations and mantras had given him a sentiment of a design
On how to inhibit the screaming and maybe even end it
\
Four years preparing and plotting the perfect moment of promise
A fire formed from a single flame fueled by an accelerant
Raced through the halls up the walls and killed all the residents
Eighty-eight inmates and staff burned alive in what seemed like and instant
Such little time to search through the bodies looking for a single person
He found her on the fourth floor clinging to the bathroom faucet
He lost his virginity to the burnt corpse of nurse Denise
And to his amazed mind he was astonished to find the screaming was silenced
"Sweet child in time,
you'll see the line
the line that's drawn between
good and bad"
Having cold sweats again in this godforsaken ninety degree heat. Shivering uncontrollably. God, what I'd do for a warm comforter right now. Zombies all around me mumbling incoherent poetry no one understands or even cares to hear. Young people half my age or less without souls, without heart, without vision.
Nam 1968. The nightmares won't stop even now, fifty-six years later. Nineteen years old. Just a kid. What did I know about good and bad, right from wrong? I did what I was told just like everyone else. When I was young, I used to dream of Eden.
"See the blind man
shooting at the world
bullets flying
taking toll"
Deep in the jungle, trying to rest but sleep is elusive. Out of the corner of my eye I espy a young child, a girl I think. Or is it just a dream? She looks ragged, hungry, sad. Tears are streaming down her cheeks as she stumbles through the brush toward us. The air is suffocating, a train is rolling through my head when suddenly I hear a blast from an M16. Sarge yells "Everyone down!" Then an explosion, but this time I can't hear a thing, just debris flying everywhere. And then the child is no more. When I open my eyes, a tiny hand lay two feet away. So delicate, so precious. What the hell am I doing here?
"You'd better close your eyes
bow your head
wait for the ricochet"
Kensington avenue is hell in the real world. It is here I exist and it is here I will die, homeless, sick and alone. The needle is my one last and true friend, for when I am high I am free. It is then that the dreams of Eden reappear, if but for a moment. I am seventy-five years old now, but I never really got to grow up. For you see, back there, in '68, I was just a child in time.
dreams are illusions
white lady offers solace
forgiveness denied
*Kensington Ave, Philadelphia PA
**Song lyrics from Child in Time by Deep Purple
You're worthy of love
I see the scars, you're hiding deep within
they're not visible, upon your skin
you don't even know, how you could begin
to feel worthy of love...
You've been floating away, in time and space
your pain is written, all over your face
your dignity left you, without a trace
and you don't feel worthy of love
Bridge 1
I've seen so many people, just like you
they never seem to make a fuss
the only colors you know, are black and blue
and now it's hard for you to trust
The only friends you had, have long since died
you couldn't save them all, even if you tried
now you bottle up all, your feelings inside
you don't feel worthy of love
Bridge 2
I know to you living, is not worthwhile
but I can prove that you're wrong
I know it hurts to even try to smile
cause you forgot where you belong
Some may say, that you're a little high strung
you've shed too many tears, for someone so young
don't you know that you're life has just begun
and that you're worthy of love...
oh yes you're worthy of love
you are so worthy of love
You've forgotten that, you too have worth
you're the only you, on this planet earth
just ask the loving ones, who caused your birth
they'll say...you're worthy of love
indeed you're worthy of love
welcome home my dear!
you are so worthy of love!
April 21,2017
John Derek Hamilton
an early morning rise,
up the stairs
walk into the bathroom
in the sink
a small stain of blood.
less than a measure of yesterday
pulling a baby out of the womb into my arms.
on the sheets
a small stain of blood.
midwives wrap
my first born
snug and warm.
when her mother
finally gets her initial fill
she hands me this precious
new life.
i hold her knowing
there is nothing,
nothing!,
nothing...
nothing.,
nothing-
better then this moment!,
sweet scented perfection!,
lulls me into a peaceful bliss.
as she grows,
i spend my best times with her
and later her sister too.
my daughters own me
lock,
stock
and
barrel.
Ali?
i still see your
baby green eyes
reaching out to me.
i still smell your
childhood scent.
i can still taste
your hopes and dreams.
i can still touch
your youth as if it were now,
hear your tiny voice
"daddy i love you but you're my best friend too".
there is nothing,
nothing!,
nothing...
nothing.,
nothing-
better then this moment!,
you're now twenty two.
in the sink?
a small stain of blood.
in your bedroom
cocaine,
syringes,
...everywhere.
i clean
carefully picking them up.
i know you know you're playing
russian roulette with your life.
the drug convinced you
your life isn't worth living.
that's what drugs do.
they're that snake in the garden of eden
and you know eve ate that apple
and you know she sacrificed everything
for a fruit that would never taste that good again.
evil always presents itself as the only choice
while good seems too tough an alternative
but the truth is, the harder you have to work for it
the better it feels and it holds its feel with nothing to chase.
you can't hear me
the monster deeply
imbedded in you.
but Ali i love you
and Ali my heart weeps
and on my chest sits
a small stain of blood!
June 3 2015
Armand
LSD, Ecstasy, Vicodin, Meth; I've done none of these -
not even weed! My dealer is a muse who pushes poetry.
I get high on rhyme, tripping on words swirling colors in my mind.
There are times you have no choice
To infinite unity, the tide comes as determined
You are part of the earth, the sun, the moon, the wind and the rain
I do not care who you are, I drink of the other fountain
Your jaws tighten your smile gets glued
Leeches bite to suck blood on your skin, by their own greed
// Act like a man of flesh and blood
Your card must be played, an ace or a joker
Ace has a higher value and joker is a substitute,
but this is not poker //
An obsession that wins over common sense
The power of judgment disappears a power higher than yourself
Use your energy to get out of the dark abyss
He stamps his brown paper bag and makes his choice
Open a bottle of vodka, alcohol's embrace
26.09.2017
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
Poem of the Day; 28.09.2017
"I've tasted love heroin and will never have that high again"..
(paraphrased quote one from "Notting Hill")
Love heroin is very potent stuff.
It’s not like other drugs; it is for free.
There is no ban on it, but it is tough
to keep that high. It has no guarantee.
Some folks I know can make it last and last.
With just one hit, they’re good for sometimes years!
For most, this drug’s effects can wear off fast,
and then withdrawal brings them pain and tears.
Love heroin can bring such fevered bliss,
some addicts wreck their lives for it, or worse,
would kill for it, so I can tell you this -
expecting it to last is its great curse.
I’ve heard of people my age finding it.
I sure would like myself just one more hit!
Dec. 8, 2016 for the Three Choices Plus Two Which Equals Five
Or I Haven't Got a Clue Contest of Sara Kendrick
if i maurice yvonne could cry
i’d spread my tears
eternal over your
( say it, dare to be bold)
naked body
(then she could taste your pain)
but i can’t shed tears anymore
(tell her why)
(you need her to know)
(no i can't she'll leave me)
(get out of my head)
my mind beats differently now
i have seen the doctor
i'm not well...kind of
(you're blowing it)
(can't you see her face)
(quiet i'm trying to think)
it's not like a normal doctor
if i could feel
(you use to. you did)
i would touch you with
the hands of a silk maker
gentle and caring and with purpose.
the doctor.
my physiatrist.
i was diagnosed as bipolar
(there you got it out)
(was that so hard?)
leave me alone will you
no i'm sorry not you
they gave me drugs
i don't feel like i use to
not the mountain not the waterfall
(give it a break just speak plain)
(ok yes i will)
i can't cry any more
i have no sex drive
it's the pills
if i...
oh my God
if i...
i would and more
i’d run beyond to hold you
i would
the pills
they make me docile
you'll laugh when you hear this
because you are always with me
(don't get all mushy with her)
i miss you
(ok bud you did it)
(let's just move on)
i have no answers, but
i know
what you're feeling
you want us to be romantic
way back
(i can't listen to this)
(i am out of here)
before being medicated
i was passionate
so very passionate
not anymore
i'll tell you though
something’s got to give
my god
something’s got to give.
Maurice Yvonne
September 11 2014
I’ll not be the mask of your madness
I’ll not be the whip of your demands
I’ll not be the drug of your habit
I’ll not be the dough in your hands
I’ll not be the doll that’s your play thing
I’ll not be the container of your need
I’ll not be the victim of your anger
I’ll not be the object of your greed
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I’ll the bread that he feeds on
I’ll be the water that he drinks
I’ll be the cloud that he walks on
I’ll be the thoughts that he thinks
I’ll be the tent that he dwells in
I’ll be the heaven that he dreams
I’ll be the angel that he wants
I’ll be the sparkle in his stream
I'll be the star that he follows
I'll be the sun’s warmth on his chest
I'll be the moon that allures him
I'll be the treasure of his quest
I'll be the fairy of his woodland
I'll be the seductress of his need
I'll be the breast that he lies on
I'll be the dogma of his creed
I’ll be the honey that he savors
I’ll be the dessert that he craves
I’ll be the sea that he dips in
I’ll be the virgin he enslaves
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I would have been all that to you
I gladly would have made you king
But you gave all that to another
Now you must taste my bitter sting
You must watch his hands caress me
You must see his mouth devour
You must hear my sighs of pleasure
You must curse the betrayal hour
Eileen Manassian Ghali
The heat on the street more than I can take
hem hiked high above my bony knees
spread slightly apart so I can breathe
I sit in the stifling air on a stony stoop
there’s no relief from the panting
my face stained with sweat and bad luck
the heave of my heavy breaths work
against the sticky cling of my spandex dress
my ribs confined by the constrict of fabric
or maybe it’s the feeling of my shrinking skin
—yes it’s hard to breathe
I lick a salty trickle falling on my lips
teary eyes swollen from the violence of a trick
a john who didn’t see the beauty beyond
vivid blue and red against white skin—
my body like the American flag for Christ’s sake!
but in the back-alley filth nobody’s patriotic
scabs and bruises distract from needle tracks
people only see what’s on the surface
afraid to see a trembling girl
hidden beneath the grime of shame
and the crime of syringes and burnt spoons —
I’m afraid too — to see the girl in the mirror
a veiled child jailed behind the glass
no I only see the next knot tied around a pulse
I avoid myself— the addict in the mirror
my dope sick eyes haunted decades older
oh older than nineteen years of beaten misery
hollow dope sick eyes once long ago large
lustrous like black pearls
until found by furious fists