Sand and sea is home for me.
AP: 3rd place 2026
Their “e” assignments instead of too...
Thor hurry nips?
You?
He was obsessed with news
From all sources still couldn’t get enough
Morning noon afternoon and night
Spiralled him into a fake foreign world
Came very close to ruining his life
Blind unaware clueless, didn’t see it coming
Recklessly driving off the cliff of sanity
Sadly t’was the beginning of the end
He had it all, let it slip
Took it for granted till t’was gone
Learned his lesson? We’ll see.
AP: Honorable Mention 2026
Peeling clementines while crying
Gotta get it together this time
Partied on the weekend
One drink won’t start a fight
The lights draw me in
They’re saying it will be alright
I’m just a loser
Who has to stay sober on party night
Sitting on dried-up spit
Trying to push my tears down
I’ll be the jester if I cry
The crowd is shouting
Laughing, kissing, waving goodbye
Why can’t I see it?
Why am I not healthy and bright?
My friend is kneeling
Asking if I’m alright
Why can’t I see it?
Why can’t I be a girl full of life
I dragged this cig, my brain went far gaga,
The same cigarette brand that brought me joy;
A puff, and I slipped into a pooh-Bah,
One short drag became enough to destroy.
My legs wobbled, the world around me spun,
I heaved heavily, yet relief slept still;
The fun I sought had never yet begun,
In its stead, I commenced a mental drill.
As I puffed a new cig to chase a fad,
Deeper curiosity did arouse.
How can a mere cigar torture so bad,
A dream taught me the thought in intense drowse.
Later I learned the cig was laced with crack~
The closest I came being a junkie;
That pal later picked madness in bump's track,
Why I never became a crack flunkey.
News Junkie
Miracle Man
2/9/2024
My day’s start early with quiet time, then news,
political persuasion always determines News slant.
When I switch the channel I get contrasting views,
I promise to quit watching but the truth is I can’t.
Liberal or conservative, both express their opinions,
and often neither gives the truth much thought.
We’ll believe anything because we’re their minions,
I should just stop watching but in truth I cannot.
I guess watching news
is far better than making news.
Tom
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.
Pill junkie was born in the closet in May
He popped out yelling “Hi neighbor” the very first day.
We did not know how to respond or what to say.
What do you eat? I asked him, socializing away.
I eat up all the pills you were throwing away.
This was easy cooking for me, so I said, “please stay”.
He has consumed all the old pills of Jeff, Johnny and Jay.
He tells me he loves naps in the closet, sleeping away.
We wonder what will happen next Saturday.
By then pill junkie might not have any reason to say.
Because he is now devouring the pills of sweet Grandma May.
But if we cannot find any more pills, will he have a reason to stay?
Adrenaline, he’s no stranger;
danger is his middle name.
Don’t fan his flame; you’ll just succumb,
get maimed in some little game.
----------
Another Séadna Mòr (shay’-na mor): xxxxxx(xa)|xaxx(xxb)|xxxbxx(xc)|xbxc(xxb)
https://poetscollective.org/poetryforms/seadna-mor/
Embarrassed to say, I had it correct, posted, edited, and goofed the first line. Don't we all do that? probably not... Fixed now. Deviously difficult to me.
Hourglass of spider’s ink
upon your lower back.
Your love, a kind of love
that’s kind of an attack.
Smoking skin pressed onto my own
in messy overtones of kisses.
Stole my love before I could escape.
Less like love, more like rape.
Introduced me to those words
I never used before
Drugs paraphernalia
kit cut whore
**** score more
words I never used before
Sometimes I get chills.
You say, “probably coming down with something.”
I say, “Yeah,”
“you.”
The convenience store
Comes to life under the moon
A junkie's hangout
Chunky,
clunky,
flunky,
junkie,
you're a chunky, clunky, drugged up tool,
flunky to a junkie, and a fool.
(Tyburn)
08,08,2019
Your Turn For A Tyburn Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: charles messina
sports make my voice sing but basketball makes my heart stop
i see you again waiting for the man
dirty dollar bills crumpled in shaky hands
your veins would collapse if they weren't running sand
high risk life, low life demands
unaware with a vacant stare
of your surroundings, like you even care
there's only one reason as to why you're here
and it's not to admire yourself in cars passing mirrors
with the man running late the time ticks lunatic fringe
not knowing he's laying dead in some junkies den
the life style he lived finally did him in
and you with no idea will soon be following him
because the life of a junkie is no life at all
one step from the ledge with the needles drawl
milk blood to make sure you get it all
one last time before last call...
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
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