Drug Poems | Examples of Drug Poetry

It’s so strong The urges The addiction Weak in what merges Me To only have to ask to forgive me Perfection is far from me No it’s Not easy to admit But the truth isn’t hard to see But you’re still here With me Your patience is authentic Seeing the pain in your eyes When I ask and do Embarrassed is my truth Yet I still go...

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The factories long disappeared, Silent structures still stay; And more drugs than dreams have appeared, In Kensington today. The north of the Ave has its shine, Less fine, southerly way; Best Philly, and worst, intertwine, In Kensington today. Six miles, in a small corner curled, “What matter?” you may say; Well, the world is here, here’s the world, In Kensington today. ...

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*This poem was written for "Kensington Avenue Poetry Contest, Anthony Biaanco, sponsor, July 20, 2025 KENSINGTON'S LAMENT ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Her city streets are grey and worn, with a denim sky overhead. Birdsong trickles out in fractured waves, as if feathered friends cried while flying her way. Engines sputter; horns blare. People hurry by her in silence, eyes down, broken...

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They called it short gratification— but I lost my soul in the trade. A moment’s pleasure, for a lifetime of emptiness, a spark that consumed the temple I once was. O Woman, your body is not desire’s playground— it is the chalice of divinity. If you fail to respect your sacred form, no man ever will. Each man you lie with, leaves an imprint upon your soul. And...

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I was so high I don't recall being high I sat in the basement waiting to come down I hung with a friend, hung with, who was that boy We waited in the bar while he waited for the bus I called my gran, my safeguard, she knew something was up Something is wrong, something isnae quite right I found out...

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She offered him a pill; he tried it as a teen, and still recalls that he saw beings never seen in colours no one knew, on worlds where no one's been... written 12th July for Nette's KALEIDOSCOPIC contest...

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Without the right paraphernalia ~ Marijuana won’t help what ails ya ...

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Addiction is not merely the repetition of pleasure, but a drug's capacity to co-opt the body’s systems — much like a virus — for its own symbiotic, self-perpetuation. When we conflate this bio-chemical entanglement with the psychological effects of behavior, we mistake appetite for affliction and misdiagnose the...

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methamphetamine my cousin got hooked on it needed morphine patch his body ruined excruciating back pain deceased at fifty...

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They said you came from chimpanzees— That deep in some African jungle You leapt across species, A silent hunter cloaked in blood. But we have lived with chimpanzees For tens of thousands of years. We shared forests, We shared meat, We shared mythologies. Why now? They claim you're a natural disease— But if that were true, Why does nature not offer a cure? Polio fell. Smallpox vanished. Yet you—since...

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Amid the fire of twilight sun I wish I knew my way horizon’s char and moonlight’s shun has ashed my hope I pray for dark cloud constellation to free a steed for me to flee gunshot streets for primrose to steal my jaundice and burn the itch in roadside stars for me to follow scent and sight and find forsaken...

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There is a silent visitor inside you now — softer than fresh-baked bread, more precious than gifts from wise men of the East. A second heartbeat, gently echoing beneath your own. You carry more than a name. You carry memories yet to be made, a mirror of past souls, a vessel for tomorrow’s joy. So walk gently, eat wisely, rest fully. That bottle of cider — it whispers...

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Mini Poppadoms Intensive can you hear the intensity Mr freeze step aside I have flies and they are my new friends The crackle of the snow,whip and blow The cackle of the crow,the man taking the dough The crackle of the soap Left until your laundries done The night of a moon And a cow The red rooster cocks And the people come Forgetting their...

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Can't get you to understand. I already know your kind. You're really blind. Maybe, a sign, to you, will be given. To make you change, your way of living. I'm through with always giving. It's only your grave, that you're digging....

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Grace is a free gift That cover up all drifts Even in its own shift It troubles logical thefts Truly, in problems, it seems there is no grace Or you think many are out of space May be its remains are of trace Meant for those who set the pace Working grace is for all Just that many don't listen to its...

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