Best Junkie Poems


Premium Member Junkie

He tries to ignore her,
but she drags him close.
He tries to resist her,
but he needs it to pacify his pain.
His head aches with loud vibrations,
antagonised by her absence.
She is his pimp - he is her willing slave.

Like a fish caught on an angler's bait,
she reels him in, to devour her catch.
He knows her lethal reflection,
but he needs to tame the beast.
The needle tears a purple hole,
but he is now a unicorn flying high,
soaring among eagles,
free from the chains of tolerance.

Temporarily she satisfies his lust,
but once the buzz dies,
his bleak veins throb for more.
A bruise remains and that is all people see.
His face is gaunt, 
his eyes yellow and his frame now frail.
Nobody makes eye contact nor do they trust him.

With their ignorant judgmental eyes,
they fail to see, what he really needs is to be saved.
Wounds are healed by love,
addiction is made worse by hate.
© Silent One  Create an image from this poem.

Just a Junkie

If in time
you should divine
that bees are fat
and owls are brown
then you will know
as do I
time will go
slow
so .... slow.

And if in time 
you should find
that veins are thin
and blood is brown
slow down
slow down.

Then, a time
life's curtain
came crashing ...
and I'm certain
you're asking, 
Why?

..... so am I
© Sue Mason  Create an image from this poem.

Adrenaline Junkie

Your laughter sound so hollow and there’s something that you hide,
You forget that there’s an ebb and high for every passing tide,
When dust falls and settles, beauty eventually will die,
For you need to rouse yourself after you moan and sigh,

There’s nothing more destructive than living an idle life,
When you could be out there to join the frays and frights,

Chorus...
Life is a roller coaster never close your eyes,
For the journey’s filled with loops and turns 
And eye popping highs

When you strap yourself please don’t forget,
To make sure it’s nice and tight,
For you never know how far you’ll go,
Or how steep you will climb

So when it comes down to choices
Don’t hesitate to try,
All the crazy things that’s meant for you
Makes living more worthwhile...
End of chorus

When days are grey and dull and you spend it sitting down,
You feel everyone’s laughing at you the lonely clown,
For they never could quite get it, How hard you desire,
To throw yourself and go berserk and Set yourself on fire

For you know there’s nothing harder than living in fright,
How boring it will be…. each passing day and night

Rpt chorus


Fruit Loops Junkie

I’m a genuine Fruit Loops junkie
The sweet flavor gets me feelin’ spunky
Healthy options are there
I won’t eat them, I swear
I’d rather be a little bit chunky!

Premium Member Fast Food Junkie

I know we shouldn't overeat
And junk food's a definite no-no
But I admit I'm a fast food junkie
Who cares if my big belly shows

Don't dance for nobody anymore
That's silly stuff's gone forever
People either like me for who I am
Or bite me, I mean... whatever!

Happy as hell in my bountiful skin
Not trying to impress the ladies
Content to just sit and eat myself silly
Nothing underhanded or shady

“Silly old man” I heard someone say
But I'm nearing the end of the road
Allow me this pleasure before I depart
My cravings are on overload!


© Jack Ellison 2013

Wrote this before going my weight loss campaign!

Cry of a Junkie

She cries herself to sleep each night
That is if she is able to get a shoot
Up her vein of the loathsome drug
She wishes she not so dependent

Her boyfriend introduced her
To the drug and being all mellow..
She said yes thinking it an act of love
She was in college then now no more

She recalls the good upbringing she had
Her father was a man of the cloth..
Her mama a dedicated medical nurse
They had laid her a good foundation

Her boyfriend had subsequently 
Dumped her asking her rudely..
To henceforth pay for her shoots
She cries herself to sleep 

Maria her parents had named her
The irony of that chaste name..
Leaves a bitter taste in her mouth
Maybe tomorrow will be better

The miserable dreaded cold turkey
Is relieved by the euphoria of the drug
Only to be replaced by pangs of guilt
Then its trip down hill with no cushions


Junkie Deuces Wild

Your fascinating disposition,

My narcotic fixation.

You’re a mystical enigma,

A kryptonic ataxia.

My peculiar constitution,

A mercurial condemnation..

Sisi the Junkie

Sisi  the junkie 
You are what you 
Take in in life
We say in Africa 

Sisi the junkie
Sisi was a beautiful 
Young admiring girl
All guys flog around her
Cos her beauty drive
Too much attention
She was tall with her
Long hair and nice figure

Sisi the junkie
Sisi was an intelligent
Young lady 
At high school sisi
Was one of our best head 
She was at the best of it all
But not until she fell in love
With a dope that in-strange
Her natural being

Sisi the junkie
Oh sisi the Iron Lady
Was her nick name
Sisi love fun a lot
That got her to a new
World from a strange
Friends with a double face

Sis the junkie
At first sisi
Got in to liquor 
She fun a lot with
Too much quantity of it
With out a control
She move to the Jamaican 
Herbs,
Like is not fun enough 
Sisi got in to crack
That was the doom of it all

Sisi the junkie 
Sisi loved crack
Like sisi use to say 
I need my
White powder 
when she 
Need to feel high

Sisi the junkie
Gradually sisi began
To lose control of her 
Social life
She began to act strange
Always busy with her fingers
As she scratch off her skin 
When she need the white powder

Sisi the junkie
Oh sisi the Iron Lady
Sisi lost a lot on this life style
with time like she is 
A deferent soul
Her friends was too
Far from her like 
She was a stranger they never
Know 
Sisi was broke 
Lost her job
Used her belongings to
Get crack 
Finally now on the street
Oh sisi the Iron Lady

Sisi the junkie 
Like sisi lies on the corner
Of the street still an addict
Life was so blue on her
Oh sisi the Iron Lady 

Sisi the junkie
Life is all about you
Your choice go so
Far with you
The power of success 
Lies on the level of 
Ones control 
Be in control 
Of who you are
Not be controled
By what you take in
Like the tales of 
Sisi the junkie

Junkie For Love

I believe in love like a junkie believe in drugs
I take a hit of passion then compassion fills my lungs
Injections of affection and I.V.s of blessins
So high i'll paint pink the dept. of corrections
My heart then pumps understanding I become less demanding
I sweat out pain and regret and develop respect
And throughout this scenario I let jealousy go,
then trust began to flow,anger lost its hold,
self confidence rose,my mind then clicked on reload,
negative was disposed,eyes shed tears of control,
cause my system was whole,
now leroy cant mess with me and my glow

Free Cee Just Another Jerk and Junkie

ONE DAY IN MAY

I didn’t hear the call that day
Instead I chose to fall away
I didn’t care what it had to say
Instead I chose to join the fray

It was a humid day in May that year
When a call came to make it clear
That warning fell on a deafened ear
When woefulness approached all too near

Today I recall that day too well
It’s part of the reason I’ll wretch in hell
I had a great deal of problems to quell
And so I fell under a specious spell

That call was ignored by a worrisome mind
And two blue eyes demanded blind
It hurts to look ahead as well as behind
For a meager junkie, me, the undersigned
               © 2013 copyright PHREEPOETREE…..~free cee!~

Premium Member The Lonely Old Junkie From Maraetai

The hillside stained
in bloody mindlessness
yet nurtured with tender care,
tend heady dreams
as yet to be invented,
besotted, many virgin souls
fragmented. An awesome
power to wield, a thousand moods
to create, the sluice gate of an
intellect to be prised, an
ambiguous logic to flounder,
an infringement upon an open mind!

So! The needle to be honed
for the vein that waits, each
day a constant need of the
magic potion. ‘Hallelujah’ he
conveys a wealth of empathetic
emotion. For here he stands
at the source of temptation,
if only to taste his habitual bloom
those with heads held high, swaying
to a different tune. For he knows
he’ll never make it to heaven, but
he’s as sure as hell been to
paradise, for this place ‘He swears’
the gateway to truth and sincerity!

To be cast out
from this rapturous spell, his
body enraged, for the sunrise
to him spawns the fire of ‘Hades,’
flames that ignite his troubled world.
Yet his earthly script he must
fulfill, if only to stumble, along
society’s narrow vision, grope at
its desolation, fondle its misery.
‘God! Give him strength, to return
to his promised land. 
His! Paradise. The means
to escape the foundations
of a misspent youth!’


© Harry J Horsman   1994

I'M a Junkie

Addicted to somethin’ 
My thoughts no longer own
A fish tank full of submarines 
Swimming schools of piranhas
Waking up soaking wet
Sharks swimming in my sweat

Sleeping on the cold floor
Petrified to close the door
Or open when closed...nightmares 
Circling ahead...flocks of aeroplanes 
Like vultures to a carcass 
Feeding on my burnt ashes

Overindulgence in fantasy
Thoughts amputated from reality
Monotones ringing in my cranium
Press the button to a new continuum
To end this paralyzing paranoia
That feeds my insatiable insomnia

The Journal Junkie Meets the Destitute Dweller

*Holly (Vault Dweller)*

Hey bartender,
Who's that girl over there,
The one nursing the whiskey in the corner,
She has that press hat one that makes her look...strangely debonair.

*Bartender*

That'll be our little Ms. Piper Wright,
She runs the local paper,
Spends all day looking for a story then types the rest of the night,
Bit standoffish at first but quite the looker.

*Holly*

Hahah I'll say,
Just look at that red trench-coat and suit,
And that piercing stare,
Comes off tart as a mutfruit,
But it just bounces right off her wavy hair,
And goooosssh those lips,
Their silky sheen betrays the steel of her gun,
Dangling from her buxom hips,
Armed with an unabashed tongue,
Clearly her deadliest weapon,
Complimenting her feisty spirit perfectly preserved in an hourglass figure both fair and young,
Fully stocked with an arsenal of wisecracks, worthy armaments for free speech's most sensuous bastion,
Avid journalistic endeavors personify her inquisitive nature,
Reporting the most controversial conspiracy or the latest Publick Occurrences,
With jaw-dropping headlines fueled by her insatiable determination not even the mayor can escape her snooping typewriter,
How this vixen has eluded both the aging of time and voraciousness of lovers is beyond me,
And I think I'm allllmost drunk enough to go over and talk to her,
Should only take me another couple of rounds before I'll have the guts to...ah who am I kidding,
I'm over 200 years old there's no way she'd ever go for a pre-war relic regardless of who well preserved.

*Bartender*

News flash buddy, she's single,
Read today's headlines and you might find the subtle hints,
Listen to her playful comments of life and lust weaved in-between the innocuous babble,
The words may take their place in the articles but her true message is hidden underneath the paper's yellow tint,
She's young and lookin for love just the rest of us here in the Wasteland,
So what've you got to loose hotshot go get her,
Or do you need another round on the house give you the upper hand?

*Holly*

Well damnit bartender one more round it is,
If you don't from her till morning it'll be one of two things,
Either I've been utterly rejected and lying in a ditch,
Or I'll be too busy ignoring the world trying to make her mine.

The First Junkie

The bleakness of the night sky offers little relief
I cannot share your optimism or belief
    refute your nefarious cries for help and trust
i was hard at work, i did turn up my sleeve

  my heart resonates like a broken pendulum
I have never felt such a conundrum
  i appear as a twisted sort of rabid monk
i know not who you are or where you come from

  my swelling has become viscous and blue
my fridge never had pictures that I drew
  can your pin prick offer me any escape?
my eyes are black and leak with the morning's dew

  without you I sweat and shake and freeze
mouth only manages a morning wheeze
  with no shame now, i actively search for you
I will never again feel the summer's breeze

  I bend and purge judas' last supper
rather you have been some sort of upper
  skin withered and burnt like grilled meat
you surely have become my only brother

I Am a Clutter Junkie

First let me start by saying “I AM A CLUTTER JUNKIE”
A clutter junkie collects things any and all things, things that are unimportant and often cheap
Things that have no purpose or meaning.
Things that usually just end up sitting around needing to be dusted.

I have known for a long time I was a clutter junkie but really didn’t know how bad it was till I decided to de clutter..

Some of things I can not explain are
23 sets of candle holder of different sizes and shapes,
38 pairs of black dress pants oh I know I used them I wear black all the time
10 sets of bedspreads, curtains and throw pillows to match,, yes there are only 2 beds in my house
18 pairs of shoes I havent worn in couple of years
4 boxes of toys yes my youngest child is 33 years old
41 purses choose a color any color 
112 bottles of fingernail polish…yeah I have ten fingers and ten toes
31 different containers of eye shadow want to paint a picture
212 long stem glasses no I do not own a bar
Craft supplies make flowers, jewelry, decompage, mosaic, purses, paint, tshirts, oh I don’t even know what some are for.
3 files cabinets full of copy paper, pictures and God himself doesn’t know what I need that for
593 pens I write a lot but not that much
Baskets, urns, and vases I did not even count
21 watches you would think I would know what time it is
I think I have one of every self help book published and some of them I have  2 of the same
I have 4 briefcases and I work from home
I have a six at a time cd player and closer to 600 cds does that make any sense
I have 5 bibles and I do use one most every day 
TV well lets see do I count the ones in the house by themselves or count ones in garage sitting on a shelf
I love to cook but there is no way I could use 42 pans today
Dishes of every shape size and color maybe I should throw a party before I throw them away

What is the purpose of all this you say… it is proof positive I am a clutter junkie I say.
© Rj Sloman  Create an image from this poem.

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