Best Overdosed Poems
"Thoughts of a Sexual Nature"
Vivid thoughts of you,
in your birthday suit.
Sprawled on my living room floor,
anxiously you wait
for what you came here for.
Long toned legs,
a rippled mid-section.
I want to hear you beg,
you caused this ********.
Incense burn!!
Sex on the Beach
heightens the mood.
I allude,
to a massage.
A mental mirage,
a dream.
Vivid thoughts accrue,
as I knead your birthday suit.
skin like a rare passion fruit,
and I'm working for your nectar.
You're my aperitif,
and I have a sweet tooth
for your vermouth.
_________________________________________________________
Strumming your neck,
my tongue is the pick.
Hearing you moan lightly, "Oh your so thick."
So eager was the lass,
for me to.... hose down her fire.
You see, the blaze I intensified.
I knew her desires.
Slow down I pleaded,
hasten your pace!
We have all night baby,
and first base is my face.
I had overdosed on her Vermouth.
She poured without a care!
Enveloped in lusts rapture,
it was, to soon to conclude.
Ambiance is important, so I'll set the mood.
Red lights, mirrored headboard
& playing softly in the background,
a love songs
interlude!!!
_________________________________________________________
Soft moist lips lick you're ear
whispering words of delight
pursuing my plight for your might,
my tongue rolls down your neck
peck on peck,
as my goal unfolds
kissing chest nipples
your dimples of gold
tanned bronze like a god,
excitement,
ecstasy
extension to explode,
the ride enhances as liftoff begins
tastier than sins,
searing flesh on flesh emotions
enmesh juices of love in thrombosis,
in oceanic osmosis,
as we fall...
spent ...
content ...
in orgasmic opulence.....
"This is a collaboration written by three different poets... Starting with Me...
Samuel Brooks has the middle section, and Linda Marie Bariana concludes...
This turned out well and I am sure all of you will agree..
Jared Pickett---Asavvy1
Samuel Brooks----ChocolateWoW-------------------------1/27/2010
Linda Marie Bariana------Sweetheart
John Wulf, with his funny Limerick antics telling funny hilarious stories,
“viagraology
There once was a medical study
of things flapping flaccid like putty
those men given placebo
couldn’t enter gazebo
it drove the poor fellas plumb nutty
Copyright © 2015John Wulf”
but also has his very soft spot for all of us
Then there is my very favorite lady, Jan Allison, with all her humorous poems,
ANOTHER VIAGRA POEM HAS JUST POPPED UP - INSPIRED BY EVE ROPER AND JACK ELLISON
It hung so limply like Niagara
Doc told him to take some Viagra
Just one little blue pill
Gave his wife such a thrill
It sticks up so high it could stab ya
Copyright © 2015JAN ALLISON 18th July 2015
but lover her with all our hearts she is the sweeties of them all
Jack Ellison, teasing back and forth with his witty poems,
so who’s the greatest of them all,
OD'd On Viagra
Hickory, Dickory, Dock
Overdosed on Viagra, whatta shock
My wee fellow looked up
Said, “You ain't no pup!”
I cried, “This guy don't go by no clock”
Copyright © Jack Ellison 2015
But a jolly soul because his Santa Jack this year.
Then there’s our Mystic Rose that joins the group with her sense of humor;
A Little Viagra Goes A Long Way
Incline thy ear o-friend of mine
Me poor husband got it bad
He got a dicky that won't pine
Tis sad Tis sad Tis really sad
I heard yours takes Viagra pills
Malone's will not erect nor stay
and yesterday he got the shills
Just letting dicky out to play!
Would you be so kind to send
The medicine that made him sleep
I'll give my hon a pop to rend
His dicky joy, so he can weep
Few tears of joy alongside mine
Oh how my smile would shine
He got a dicky that won't pine
And that's a real bad sign...
Copyright ©Mystic Rose 7/19/2015
so much fun we have here on Poetry Soup
11/13/2015
Poetry Contest : Who Are those funny Poets
Sponsored by: Judy Konos
I down poison and sleep for days
trying to take the heart ache away
I swallow rasorblades to take the headaches away
but nothing matters its always the same
what doesn't kill you only makes you stronger
liar liar pants on fire!!!!
Overdosed and dieing
survived it and now paying with liver damage and internal bleeding
The car crash of the drunk driver
how relaxing
nail biting aftermath
and another reason to go out and party
for the celebration
of the alcoholic
who just took the life of his best friend
I'm the victom
I'm the victom
I'm the victom he says
but low and behold the survivors in the other vehicle
stronger than ever
all crippled and in wheel chairs
know that
they should really thank the drunk driver and condemn
all the hippocrits who know nothing of survival
so here i am
wishing to be more strong
why bother to exercise
they surely have it all wrong
why pay attention to science any way
all those cliches can tell you about apples and sunshine
but we know what doesn't kill you makes you stronger
so i think I'll cut off my leg
go play in traffic
or fight the wars by doing too much drugs
the place inside the fire can tell you
what doesn't kill you will only make you strong
A second lease on life
a new found reason to get up and go
and find god and praise life
and all the things i should have done
and all the newfound glorious reasons to cry
why oh why oh why oh why
thank you lord thank you Jesus
thank you wars thank you liars thank you lies
thank you doctors thank you poets
thank you psychologists
thank you preachers for truly understanding an age old cliche
I'll peel off this apple to keep the doctor away throw out the core
and know
if it doesn't kill me
I'm probably just weak
and after all the rehabilitation and speach therapy i still don't feel like me
Heroin lies the irony —
Segregated babies are weaned on
milk-of-the-poppy
doctrine of Equality
Emancipated notion on the nod:
A false sense of freedom
is taught in every syringe-scattered schoolyard
Children of the cold, concrete jungle cry hard ...
opiate tears of injected fentanyl medium
Misled by the wavy cattle prod
Ghetto by-products of iron oar legacy
get kicked to the curb
by hollow words of homeless empathy
Cotton head infants overdosed with coo joy,
at the mirage sound of liberty
Beast-of-burden swayed buy patriotic noise,
so lung addicted to hypocrisy
Bottled-up hallucinated hope
is just a serotonin chain reaction memory
Minds blown in the wind,
be the next gen dopefiends for democracy
Smith and Wesson’s cool steel kisses my right temple. I cock the hammer. The slow clicking of the cylinder’s turn is amplified through the barrel into my ear. Finger resting on the trigger; and I reminisce.
Striking that young maiden and the bright red trickle from her cheek, giving my flesh the appearance of eternal youth. How lovely it was to immerse in the warm blood of so many young virgins sacrificed for my vanity. And being left to die alone in my castle. What a waste.
In my lust for recognition I relished in terrorizing the streets of London. What a rush it was to baffle the authorities, putting my handy work on display; artistically arranging the bodies for my twisted desire. They say it was around twenty women strangled and mutilated, if they only knew the real number. But that passion weaned quickly. In my urge for a grandeur macabre I overdosed on heroine in hopes being able top that in my next incarnation.
As Feuer of an entire nation the delegation of wholesale slaughter didn't quite measure up to the ecstasy of someone else’s existence being extinguished through my own hands.
The era of free love lent to an easy spree of killings in northern California. In my need for some recognition, I teased the authorities with cryptic messages; to this day and my great disappointment they have not been able to decipher. The most that came out of it was a marriage of Clint Eastwood and Hollywood in the name of Dirty Harry.
Hugging my finger to the trigger giving it a strong, swift pull I can’t help but wonder, how do I achieve a higher satisfaction than when I delivered the Kiss of Death, sacrificing the Son of God for just a few shillings?
"Everything Halloween Contest"
Virgen de Guadalupe
scrape her roses from the floor
The lighted path shimmers
in the mountains
as we walk like goats
surefooted and into high
places
Lofty dreams encompass
the transitions
and splendor shakes a tail feather
peacocked into cries for
water, light and love
Challe in the toilet stall
Hands clenched, mouth moving
She could not shout
Shall the world let her fall?
Offer her soothing
Help through this bout?
Shall we notice at all?
Her sad self loathing
Draped in self doubt
Challe head against the wall
Her mind is roving
Confused, distraught
Challe
Orphaned child
Witnessed mother’s murder
Never able to cry
Numb
La Pieta
hold open her new door
The best is yet to come
We whisper as we
stick our fingers down
her throat
Virgen de Guadalupe
scrape her roses from the floor
holding her slashed wrists
until the ambulance arrives
and extracts
her overdosed pills and
her nightmares
into visions
of the ever present gift
that even murderers
could not take away
Rocking her like
a baby we sing
to her of a new
day and a new
song where she
will cry no more
and we assure her
with our lips to hers
that we will breathe
for her for a while
until she births her
new self all green
and rare like a
butterfly thought
extinct suddenly
appeared
Walter took his life when he could not cope
With addiction and overdosed on pain
He tried very hard but then lost all hope
Found it too hard to control and abstain
Ralph medicated depression in vain
The rope's noose disobeyed his last command
His sadness was deep and mania grand
The bullet left just a brain bloody fame
As courage granted an ultimate stand
Too close for comfort as we were the same
26th December 2019
Bedsprings crochet bones together.
His back is sutured to gripes
stitched to gummy joints.
In the toilet, avoiding the mirror,
humming softly,
shunning conversation with himself -
the ceiling drips a sump of memories.
The park --- Frances revolves confused.
"I don't understand."
A phrase with self-winding words.
A slight miscalculation,
a turning away at the precise moment
she turned towards him;
an error of timing really.
Frances whirs on "I don't understand."
Later he understood she overdosed.
He imagines this lethal power
over her life to be his.
Time whittles cavities with calcifications.
Softly the spine of a storybook breaks -
where one stitch patches a sorrow
a spur prods and rips.
When he listens to the hollows
between the long vertebrae of his life,
he hears a theory crumbling away
under slowly grinding cogs.
The heart hears a hauntingly sad tune,
there is no dancing inside of this room.
My heart only beats to the sound of your name,
a twist of fate is one hellish cruel way to play the game.
A rushing of blood drums in my ears,
which only entices my innermost fears.
And you're treasuring this, I can tell by your stance,
you sing all the right words, still I'm too scared to dance.
What will happen if these words are another wicked lie,
surely this time I will sink without a lifeboat, left to die.
Why can't I finally walk away and let you just go,
you hold the key to my heart, trapped in your mighty glow
So I lose either way, can't live with you, die without you,
a bittersweet conclusion bathed in a fluid, deathly blue.
As icy as your hands, one round my throat, one at my waist,
biting as your lips meet mine, one final time, my blood is laced.
A requiem of a dream you've crushed without care,
leaving me with nothing more than a wing and a prayer.
Trapped in a corner where my memories hide,
you've managed to rape me of everything, even my pride.
Every last ounce of my dignity, now in your possession,
a sinister way to ensure you imprint a lasting impression.
Here, take my breath, slow and steady or with violence,
For we will never dance again, the melodies made scream silence.
Overdosed on a emptiness that now begins to consume me,
living this nightmare, the ghost of you I cannot set free.
Swirling gusts of memories begin to kill me even faster,
Just remember us as another beautiful disaster.
A/N this was my first co-write, which I wrote with a friend. I really enjoyed it, will definitely co-write again
There was a thrill seeker named Biff
Who got married on a cliff
Honeymooned in Niagra
Overdosed on Viagra
Now the poor fella's a stiff
4-27-2015
In the corner of Cyber cafe
Bloodshot eyes stare into the abyss
Web connected
And disconnected from society
He never sleeps
Lost in the glare of the screen.
All night, blue light and shadows
He lives in the game
Lives off sugar and aspartame
Overdosed on chemicals
He escapes the horror of the world outside
Through the horror in the machine
On lonely streets she walks at night
Looking to turn a trick
How sad the story destiny will write
She hopes it passes quick
She uses drugs to numb the pain
that comes with fading light
And on the streets she roams again
As strangers she invites
On lonely streets she walks no more
She'd overdosed the night before
No tears were shed for her sad plight
Just painful echoes of eternal night
3-4-2015
''L'' Contest New Or Old Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Constance La France
I was told over and over when I was an innocent four years old,
"Spread your wings, child!"
By the man I loved most, my Grandfather was inspirational.
He was the one that thought me how to read and write.
My parents were never there for me, they were often tipsy,
Smashing the bottles upon the floor and sometimes upon me.
When this happened, my Grandfather was always there to heal my soul,
And he would always say "Spread your wings, child!"
My parents were later found dead, overdosed on the latest drugs.
Even the cruelest people deserved sympathy, I thought as I cried.
They did bring me into this world, even if it was an accident,
So I simply moved along with their memories.
My Grandfather was a strong man as he battled a fierce war of cancer,
His last words were "Spread your wings, child...."
I screamed until my throat was sore, for I had no one else to love, no one,
Was this what the world had to offer a ten year old?
Now, a twelve year old, I have found a sweet family of my own,
A mother that could not have children and left lonely because of it,
She smiled and held me tightly when I first saw her.
Now I have someone to love.
Now, we sing and dance, sit around reading "Oliver Twist,"
With her teasing me and telling me I look like the protagonist, it's true though,
Sometimes on the warm summer nights, we'll watch the stars wink.
Now, I've spread my wings wide open!
Everything I have told you is true :) How could I lie? That wouldn't be right! It's time you got to know me, this poem is my life, reader!
In memory of Oliver Kirkland, my dear Grandfather
Dreaming dreams is silly.
Realistically you well be working a dead end job where you work for hours with a pay that is only slightly above the minimum wage, with a boss named billy.
True love is a facade,
Realistically you will fall in love with someone who well hate you after 2 years and your boss named billy will commit heinous acts with your spouse while your abroad.
Dream cars are just that dream cars.
Realistically you'll end up driving a car that breaks down in the middle of the road, the car well be in such bad shape that owning it is breaking laws.
Perfect children is not possible.
Realistically they well grow up depressed and useless, your daughter well be stuck up and is anorexic because she sees herself as ugly even though she is beautiful, your son well most likely be lonely and rejected, they will do drugs to ease the pain, even though you try to connect with him but you just can't.
A perfect retirment is a funny joke you tell your grandchildren.
Realistically you'll end up in a care home old and decrepit, barely able to remember your own name, every face you see well be unfamiliar even your own children, your children would have grown into failures in life, your daughter became a washed up actress who does more drugs than she has cuts on her arms, your son turned into a supposed strong smart person, but only when he left you and your terrible family behind him, he most likely refutes the fact that his family were such failures, your wife would have left you for your boss named billy many years before your retirement.
Death is the only reason you well be remembered.
Realistically all your "friends" would have already forgotten your existence years before you died, the only people to attend your funeral would be your son who refuted you for so long, he still does but slightly less because you wrote him in your will and gave him half your life savings, your ex-wife went only because she wanted to see you one last time to remember the "happy" times and also because she was also in your will and got your house that you worked oh so hard for, your daughter didnt make it, instead she was also six feet under and already rotting, she had overdosed on the many drugs she did.
There's a first time for everything
For the good and bad
That's probably why I got
Addicted to this razor blade in my hand
Not to it itself
But to the things it does
It makes me feel nothing
Bu something at the same time
And it fulfills my urges
To see blood
There's a first time for everything
That's probably why
I'm addicted to these pills I've overdosed on 3 times
They're killing me
But they seem to be the only thing that's keeping me alive
There's a first time for everything
So I made the choice of trusting you
And I'm glad I did
Because I found out
You're broken too
I wasn't alone
You showed me
Angels are broken too
There's a first time for everything
And maybe that's why
I gave up my addictions
For you and mini us
Because there are better things in life
Than the demons inside