Best Drug Addicted Poems
He sang sweet songs, sweet needle point lullabies
His eyes were crystalized, their awestruck blackness ate me whole
I stayed mesmerized by his carelessness and smooth complexion
He spit ease and promised comfort
His perversions helped to define me
He fed off the helpless story my eyes told
Like a rat chewing holes in already worn socks
The deeper the needle dug, the closer we became
2 more strangers brought together by a spoonful of pretty crystal flakes,
Praying for something better
The dope trampled through our veins, fusing us together
I take the shot and let it break me to pieces
I become fragments, collaged together to make one unnecessary disaster
I am legs. I am eyes. I am lips. I am warmth. I am sultry. I am body language.
I am delirium. I am carelessness.
I am 37 flavors of wreckage
I am the thrust in his hips and the look in his eyes. I am property.
I am the dope sack and the remains left behind
I am just weight on the mattress
I am another girl on another motel bathroom floor
I am the holes in my arms
I am confined, super glued to a picture of a drug addicted whore
Yet, I still believe I am endless
I stay paralyzed in this moment, in my fear of a better way
In this ecstasy
I stay paralyzed in my regrets, in my remembrance of all things lost
In all the moments I lost my control in an empty dope bag
It wraps around me like lights on Christmas tree
My bad decisions and remorse surround me
In a cheap motel room with broken windows and a broken tv
It breathes in my heartbreak and exhales my defeat
I am alone but my broken parts fit right in
The sticky windows separate us from daily life
This is a place of isolation, not escape
The morning sun doesn’t shine on us
We’re just chasing after freedom in the wrong place,
Singing our needle point lullaby.
Hope and despair are partners,
try and figure it out,
passion in an endangered soul
that chose to give me no name.
Perhaps she needs none, who knows?
For she brought chaos to my heart,
upset my strictly precise ways.
Stars falter at her glacial glance
and the sun hides its shine in shame.
Yet I cannot bear to be
without her luscious intoxication,
like a delirious drug-addicted creature,
that knows he'll never survive, for
to be with her is a lingering death,
to be without her is eternal hell.
This month she's a singer
in public lewd and crude
pushed into the limelight
and usually half nude
Next month she'll be a model
a drug-addicted child
in and out of courtrooms
another youth gone wild
The latest greatest train wreck
is just another face
she'll rise and fall so quickly
then another takes her place
Each new one tries to outdo
the ones that came before
with even bigger scandals
and troubles by the score
Just 25 and burnt out
used up and thrown away
disposable celebrities
come and go each day
And tragically for some
they lose their very lives
they're just another headline
on which the public thrives
Created in a board room
churned out at record pace
the latest greatest train wreck
has come to take your place
She was lovely, a beautiful kind soul, giving, loving, generous, but also apologetic for being alive.
Her light gray eyes danced and pranced, and her laugh was hearty when you got to know her.
Lots of people thought she should be invisible.
They wanted their garbage dumped, and their rooms vacuumed and cleaned silently.
Knowing this, she usually kept her head down, saying few words, afraid of being rebuffed.
I brought her a sandwich, and stayed late one afternoon, to get to know her.
She had sacrificed her whole life to help her drug-addicted mother, and now her drug-addicted sister.
All of her money went into her mother’s bills, her mother’s habits, and her sister’s four children.
Her sister was currently serving another sentence in Leavenworth prison. Pregnant, of course.
In a few months, my friend would get a call to come pick up the new baby from the prison.
What choice do I have? She asked me. We cannot have her babies raised by strangers.
She would drop off the baby with her drug-addicted mother who keeps the blinds closed all day,
And bemoans the fact that the other children there are hungry, and crabby and wake her up with their noise.
She did the best she could, enabling her mother and her sister, sometimes taking the babies to their well-check appointments and paying for them of course.
She gave everything she could to her family. A beautiful soul. I asked her what she had wanted to do as a child, what she dreamed about doing when she grew up.
I dreamed someone would take care of me, she said.
I wanted someone to save me, but they never came.
No, we would not want these babies raised by strangers.
If I hear Gucci Gang one more time I'm going to go insane
I went from being a tortured poet, to a music artist's music leaving me in pain
Repeating the same words for 2 minutes, you leave most poets pens ashamed
Out of all the new rappers, I couldn't tell you ten names
They're all the same, rapping about nonsense
Oh you take drugs and brag, thank you for the context
I'd rather listen to Nas, Rakim, Lupe Fiasco, Kendrick Lamar and stuff more complex
Lil Pump is as talented as an orange
Does he even speak a real language? Because everything sounds Foreign
Ice Cube, Jay-Z, Nas, Biggie, Big Pun, Eminem, Tupac, Bone Thugs N Harmony were the best people
Lil Pump, Young Thug, Soulja Boy, and most these new rappers make me jealous of deaf people
At least if I was deaf I wouldn't have to hear what they say
But they mumble their words so I can't make it out anyway
a dictionary of words, and these fools use the same 10 words in every song
These days rappers are all the same, there's no edgy one
I'm 25, but grew up on Jadakiss, Fabolous, 50 Cent, Game, and Wu Tang
So forgive me for not caring about these drug addicted bragging rappers with their new slang
Holding on to 80's 90's and early two thousands Hip-Hop so I won't lose touch
But I can't believe half the nonsense I'm hearing from this new stuff
When these rappers come on you have to Mute it
The best new rappers, are Cole, Kendrick, Nino Bless, Locksmith and Joyner Lucas
Sometimes holding on is good, but you need to know when to remove the hand
Which is now, because I'm going to go insane the next time I hear Gucci Gang
They laid her in a tomb, only the bagpiper and I.
The Scotsman, with his pipes, played a dreary dirge,
I stood tall, no tears just intense anger.
A haggard breeze flowed around the verdant trees,
Ruffling the dreary flowers that adorned her tomb.
A hit and run: Dead on the spot.
A mad drug addicted driver who killed my lovely wife.
How can I forgive? She was my love.
Thoughts ran amok in my head.
No tears, just revenge.
Seething with anger I bought a pistol.
I searched for him in his stuffy cabin.
Found him in stupor on his smelly single bed.
Took out my weapon, checked bullets.
The smell in that cabin made my stomach lurch.
Could I kill him in cold blood?
Vengeance is mine, said the Lord.
Angrily, I left and threw the gun in a deep lake.
I could only hold back my tears.
17 August 2021
Holding Back Tears
Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh
If you keenly gaze upon the world of today,
you'll realize we're existing in a world where the things
you care about have been thrown out of the window,
and dark results have been swept under the carpet.
Legal institutions are breaking the law;
Children are parenting their drug-addicted parents;
Globalisation is turning to deportation;
Media sends wrong information often times;
Privacy is being sacrificed at the altar of the public;
We're slowly destroying Mother Earth,
which nurtures and nourishes us.......
Every virtue of common good that we're supposed
to hold tight and protect, is slowly falling off
from our grip......
Date: 05/03/2017
I should be with playing with my sister, on our bikes in the park.
Racing around and playing games outside, coming home just on dark.
Instead I'm in some doss house, taking ice and smoking dope.
No wonder people look at me and think that there's no hope.
I should be home for dinner, happy conversations around the table.
It's the time of day that I miss, now it seems just like a fable.
Instead I'm on the street, hawking my body and doing tricks.
Just enough money for some drugs, so I can get my fix.
I should be doing homework or hanging out with all my friends.
It seems a distant memory now, I can't see that I can make amends.
Instead I'm in some dirty alley way just lying on the ground.
A crack pipe jammed between my lips, no dignity to be found.
I should be at Gran and Gran pa's house, for Christmas lunch with everyone.
Giving and receiving gifts, sharing fun and laughter after lunch is done.
Instead I'm racing in a stolen car, completely off my head.
It's a wonder that I'm alive at all, I really should be dead.
I don't even wonder what the future holds, I exist from day to day.
Doing crime and doing time, my master drug I need to pay.
I should be with a loving family, but that doesn't exist for me anymore.
I've worn them down too many times I could not but grace the door.
If you could walk into my house, see the family photos on the wall.
Then take a glimpse of me now, I'm not the same happy child at all.
Even mum, dad and the other kids are different people now.
The drug addicted, junkie child has changed them all somehow.
Drugs dont have rivals, only those into drugs have rivals
Money in a place of poverty living lonely needing sophisticated money for simple survival
sitting lost in a culture trapped in another dark drug addicted silo
People say this place is one of the darkest drug infested places I know
too much of us down here or up there are trapped in self-inflicted drug addicted denial
We sometimes too high or drunk or just plain stupid too even pay attention to our own child
A life caught up in drugs running crazy can get too wild
Criminal cases racked against a place in one crtain file
Drugs aint got foes or enemies until we make up our own lies though
Doing anything to get high over friendships is when the drugs themselves become rivals
What do you think happens when you die?
I asked the sobbing 7-year-old.
She could not quit though.
She was in full-blown
keening, wailing,
shoulder shaking,
lip quivering,
keening, and screaming now,
sobbing mode.
Her very caring, loving, unselfish parent
Had told her about the death of her
Great-aunt Rose, whom she had
Never met who
Passed
In
1965
this morning.
It was the fifth time I had
seen her this week as
her great-great grandfather
had passed in 1972, 74, 78,
81, and 85.
Her mother, was the best
story-telling drug addicted
parent in the world
apparently,
and knew
what she
needed to
do to keep
lilttle one in
check.
"When I was a kid my dad left me in a bad way .... he was
in the lives of my sisters and brothers but he wasn't in mine."
Quote by - Beth Hart
Her voice has an innate, inborn, visceral grittiness
dusty, raspy, raw with emotions of pain, aching, torment
and agony, an unstained contralto deep and low, and you
get lost in her voice, gliding on the waves of life with her
her name, Beth Hart, an American blues musician and singer
Born in 1972, Elizabeth (Beth) Hart is from California, USA
at 4 years old she played the piano concentrating on classical
music, like Bach and Beethoven but as she got older she
was playing artists like Etta James, Otis Redding, and Led Zeppelin
she has a magical voice like Janis Joplin and Tina Turner combined
As a young teen she was singing in open mic nights
and was playing clubs at fifteen, in 1993 band search she won
best female vocalist but her success went nowhere as she
became drug addicted, she spent all her winnings and hit bottom
even spent time in a psych ward for bi-polar and drug addiction
Beth has had ups and downs and she managed to have lots of hits
too many to list in this poem, but there are many hits that I fav
like LA Song, Don't Explain, Am I The One and many, many more
she collaborated with Joe Bonamassa and went on tour with him
and together they had hits, she also collaborated with Jeff Beck
Beth controls her addictions with religion and meditation now.
Joe said in an interview," I am totally knocked out by Beth. Here
is a lady who's acting like I'm the cool one and meanwhile I'm thinking
Man, she's got it all ... the next Janis Joplin . . the real deal, you know."
Random lyrics
War In My Mind
by Beth Hart
hollerin' all the time
black in my soul
and its ugly when I cry
there is a war in my soul
blood on the wall
hiding
making love to the
war in my mind
_____________________
May 09, 2023
Poetry/Bio/It's Ugly When I Cry
Copyright Protected, ID 05-1546-229-09
All Rights Reserved, 2023, Constance La France
Written for the Premiere contest, Beth Hart Inspiration
sponsor, Robert James Liguori, Judged05/09/2023
First Place
A sweet little girl, possibly four, maybe five years old
Wearing a faded blue dress torn along the seam,
Living on the street with her drug-addicted parents
No chance at really experiencing the American dream.
It was clear she had never known a normal child’s life
She seemed perfectly content playing on the street,
While uncaring people constantly ignored her folks
Pretending not to see the little girl with her dirty feet.
She touched my heart although I could do little to help
I came back later with sandwiches and a teddy bear
They seemed so grateful…yet, I had done so little,
I brought a bright blue ribbon for the little girl’s hair.
She stood staring at me as I walked slowly away
She was still holding the blue ribbon in her dirty hands,
She could not see the tears rolling down my cheeks
But, I pray the time will come when she understands.
NINTH PLACED WINNER
written September 4, 2021
for "The One Who Touched My Heart" poetry contest
sponsored by Regina McIntosh
she has blisters on the soul of her feet and cuts along her veins
oozing pain from the sores that cover her body
a lost soul living in the streets
digging in dumpsters for food to eat
rain pouring down her frail body soaked
sneezing and coughing with no chance of hope
she struggles to walk in the nighttime air
to find a place of warmth
the underground railroad ststion seems like the place
fighting off rats and roaches bugs and critters
predators on the loose
she finds a corner to huddle in underneath the 'a" train
scared to go to sleeep in fear of beiong raped
she already was pregnant and had to terminate
a coathanger and a line of cocaine
made it all go away
a victom of child abuse and an drug addicted family
little rhonda had no choice but to run away
so many dreams of a life she knows shell never have
so she finds ways to end her life without being scared
she prays to God to help her but He must be busy
her mind is going crazy all she needs is to sleep
in the quiet of the night her restless body gives in
she begins to grift off asking God to forgive her sins
in deep sleep shes unaware of whats taking place
a vicious and nasty group of men
are violating her in disgrace
instead of letting her be they smash her head in two
leaving little rhonda to suffer no more
all she wanted was to be free away from the world that
tortured her
she never asked to be born but she did ask to die!
I turn creeping notions straight into crawling nightmares
I lead little lost lambs straight into lion dens
I turn peaceful neighborhoods into ghetto battle fields
I make the wrong seem right and the false seem real
I turn prophets into pimps
I turn killers into kings
I even turn the sunshine into acid rain
Remember my name
I'm the prince of pain
I turn innocent children into heated hate machines
I turn once strong fathers into drug addicted fiends
I turn once loving mothers into hell bound hooker queens
They do the devils work best down on dirty knees
I turn lovers into liars
I turn brothers into bastards and back stabbing beasts
I rise with rage like yeast in this angry age
Remember my name
I'm the prince of pain
I turn smiles into frowns
I turn peace into war
I turn the pure into pollution...now ruled and reigned by wicked whores
I turn the wind into whips
I turn masters into slaves
I even turn daylight into darkness...so deep with so many souls to drain
Greet me from your grave and give to my game
Remember my name
I'm the prince of pain
Zelda Twilight Wishes
(Credit to game creators of Twilight Princess)
As Link I become imprisoned in myself in Highrule land
Like a drug addicted monkey I take my task in hand
Midna, a creature from twilight world enchants me
I transform into a wolf as she rides upon my back and laughs
Two wild creatures set out to find their quests
I need to free Zelda from the hands of evil Ganondorf
Midna commands me, makes me attack a creature
Some creepy thing called Zant from her dark world
Later I’m turned back to human, somewhat wounded
Ample tools, arrays of gadgets can be found around the land
For destruction and for sport to vanquish evil on the spot
Rupees too and health are everywhere in treasure boxes
I have blisters on my hands and fingers from vanquishing beasties for the girls
Zelda, The Twilight Princess, happy with my accomplishments
Says; “Thank you Link!” “I wish you well.” Then puts me on her Christmas list
After all this fighting I’m getting twisted. I don’t even get a good-bye kiss