Long Addictions Poems
Long Addictions Poems. Below are the most popular long Addictions by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Addictions poems by poem length and keyword.
It's insane how much has changed.
From never talking-
to talking every single day.
I am more attached to you than I am my phone
My 2 addictions combined
Infused with my blood
It is a good thing that you would never lie, right?
My heart has stopped.
Frozen in it’s tracks
When I am down in the dirt, it is your hand that pulls me back
The hand is made of arsenic, little did I know
Slowly poisoning me, while I beg you not to let go
You’re my 2nd addiction.
The only other thing I couldn’t live without
The weight of my phone in my pocket and the weight on my chest when you are away.
I want to break the glass prison that you hide in,
The one that surrounds your heart.
The shards from the glass would shed my skin and I would keep the blood in a bottle,
One that I would keep on your altar while I pray at my knees.
I would use my hair as a rope, one forever attached,
I would tie it around your heart so that you could never leave me again
I would use my tears to boil my eyes so no one would ever question if i have eyes for anyone else
My skin as the carpet of the room I furnish for you with my bone.
But now there is nothing left of me.
Just the pieces I gave to you.
The ones I hoped you would treasure
But you really dyed them blue.
You took the parts of me that I let your arsenic hands touch,
You boiled them blue until I was exactly the kind you liked
You left me there,
Blue on the corner-
Begging you not to drive away.
Not to let a stranger pick up the pieces that you tossed in the waste
Those letters and poems, i filled my notebooks for you
I would have written until my fingers fell from my hands.
One-By-One. Use them as fuel for a fire to keep you warm.
Pick my nails until they bleed.
My blood, all for you.
I would let you drink my soul
And chew on my bones
My heart was left dry-
Thrown out with your junk
Left to rot and cry
I thought we were tied.
Mine heart to yours
But you cut my hair and used it to climb the wall
The one of the room I built and furnished with my bones.
You used my hair and my veins as means for escape
To get away from all I gave away
Now I burn.
My exposed muscle and organs
They thrust for oxygen
But I could only get my oxygen from you.
I remind myself
It’s not my job
To make my text
Easy to respond to
I don’t need to ask a question
Or wonder if my statement is enough
To warrant a response beyond
“Yeah”
I remind myself
It’s not my job
To teach you how to love
To show you that commitment
Doesn’t mean
Confinement
You saw me as a cell you placed yourself in
You turned yourself in and expected me
To lock the door
But when I left the keys in the lock
And told you to do whatever you want
You abused freedom as if
You didn’t turn yourself in
You ran like you had never run before
And pushed every single boundary
Because I never demanded better
You wanted confinement
because that is how you see love
A girlfriend
A woman should be a burden
Conveniently, we were both raised to think that way
Maybe that’s why we fit so well
As a woman, I needed to be easy
Easy to talk to
Easy to placate
Easy on the eyes
And it felt like a self fulfilling prophecy
The boy who didn’t know how to love
And the girl who tried to be the perfect lover
You wanted me on your arm
On your lap
At your convenience
And to disappear when something better came along
And I wanted to be easy
I only wanted to be easy because I knew
I knew you wouldn’t think it was worth it if I wasn’t
This does not come from a place of self deprecation
I know very well what I deserve
But it comes from a place of unfortunate understanding
Of how you see me
A love so shallow cannot hold a woman so deep
I became water
Willingly
Because I didn’t care if it wasn’t right
I wanted you to love me
And I am perfectly worthy of love exactly the way that I am
But I know you
And I know I would be too much effort
I remind myself
It’s not my job to teach you
How to love me
As I am
But god, I wish you did
And I know you do
And maybe that’s why I love you
Because you love me in a way I have never been loved before
Certainly not in a good way
But in a new way
I remind myself
It isn’t healthy
But god
When you pull me into a kiss
And whisper “I love you”
My body aches in a way that feels like an addiction
I remind myself
That addictions kill
But god
When you’re smiling at me
The pain melts away
Under the blissful high
Of a hundred useless reminders
This lonely language of silence—
An unending soliloquy in the mind’s dark forests
Where pain and misery grew, and nobody knew
Nobody ever hears the growth of agony or pain
They can only see it when it has already begun to destroy us.
The obscured gestures of the truth—
The insidious signs if we look close enough to see
Where the end of a smile is the start of an arduous mile.
A solitary journey nobody ever sees you traveling,
Until the internal damage is done, and you return changed.
Have you seen my afflictions lately?
I have tried to see yours as I venture to understand
How your eyes don’t reveal the stories you conceal.
As we simultaneously meander our deserted lands
The world cannot see us slowly fade.
But our grey forests flourish and bear poison fruit—
The welcomed addictions to our sweet misery
For which we insist, although God demands us to resist
But the more time passes, the more comfortable
We’ve become with the promise of hopelessness.
I must confess, I prayed especially hard for you one day
When you were dragging your spirit inside your flesh
Which was destitute despite what your words refute
Faith helped me find you through all the trees
There you were, waiting for a Hallelujah on tired, bloody knees.
Copyright © 2023 Patrick Barry
All rights reserved
I know I'm second-hand
Filtered out to feed ur addictions
It's bad for my health
But I can't help relapsing over the touches
They take the cigarettes to their lips
and blow the leftovers at me
And I inhale with everything I have
I'm out of breath
But when im with them
It feels like something to live on
I'm an addict for the 2nd hand
I can't avoid it as it blows through me
Around me
Hazing everything I used to be familiar with
It becomes a part of my bad habits
My new form of oxygen
Different from the one I was taught about
I'm second-hand
And I hate that my lungs are worse than u thought
It burns when I think about it
I shouldn't have gone
I promised I'd stay away
Find something to give me purpose again
But turns out it's all I'm good for
A product of what I was made of
2nd hand on what I grew up on
These headlines are a bee’s sting
Most situations vinegar atop a slice
Recurrences you would think good norm
A father gone rogue taken his kid for wife
Mentors hyenas over the innocent
A sane violating a unstable
Trainee kids in the “begging profession”
Corruption the bountiful profession untaught in any school curriculum
Addictions’ monopoly a snake’s venom in the society’s veins
Just yesterday love was beautiful today it pulled the trigger
We were a family now drifting apart by our fight for wealth
The applause of human wars sinks humanity in some
Our ‘leaders’ for themselves we the common their cash trees
The list of stony consciences too long, too bizarre…heartbreaking
“God are you there?’
This world’s struggles do you feel?
Our painful questions aloud within do you hear?
The ugly choking our lives’ loveliness do you see?”
“God are you there?
Won’t you breathe back sanity to our thoughts, choices, actions?"
15/10/2015
Contest: Are you the God?(Silent One)
©GraceM Composition
Health brings freedom to live
intentionally
resplendently
maturely
resonantly
integrally
regeneratively
compassionately
resiliently
kindly.
Freedom is personal,
but also social,
political
but also economic,
ecological
but also theological.
Health requires freedom from addiction
to beliefs:
Some people are born to rule
and own Earth,
while others are born to be serfs
and slaves,
laborers
and frightened/angry addicts.
Some people are born
to be born again,
while others are born
to be unredeemed,
idol worshipers,
poor,
sinners.
Some straight males are born to be White
Evangelical Supremacists,
while others are born
to be Other.
Some people are born to extract
from healthy Earth
as they choose to expand personal
and corporate materialistic "wealth".
Others are born to be entertained by,
and sometimes envious of,
these violent stories
of capitalistic rape
and plunder.
Multicultural dreams of inclusive democracy,
expanding throughout all cooperative economic strata,
encompassing all politically engaged genders,
all nations and tribes,
all positive energy systems
to regenerate a global health network
of wealthy freedom
for all interdependent creatures
globally here below,
and those who fly,
and revolve,
and generate light
power
energy,
These are ancient
indigenous dreams
of non-addicted trust,
non-dualistic Truth,
polycultural free-trade outcomes
for EarthDwellers,
EarthPatriots
EarthLovers
EarthSabbath Worshipers.
Regardless of age
gender
race
left-brain dominant enculturation,
colonizing violent history,
capitalism's win/lose supremacist games,
energy's zero-sum secularizing theology,
degenerative ecological fears
and angry
unfree
fossil fuel addiction,
consumer-driven overpopulation,
lack of freedom to sleep safely,
to live healthy outside
in familial communion
with Original Sacred EcoFeminist Earth,
etc.
The Dali Lama,
born to sainthood?
a view I doubt he would support,
says his religion is kindness.
Perhaps his spirituality
resonantly respects EarthMother's kindness
and unkindness--
much easier to do outside
than inside a dimly addictive
unfree temple.
I have nothing against the Cinderellas
of successful society.
Cinderella finds her opportunity for freedom
for love, hopefully,
goes for it,
and it works out for her
and all the Prince Charmings,
wherever they are hiding from my life.
Anyway, all good news
as far as this story goes.
But,
the plight of Ugly StepSisters and Brothers
deserves more compassionate empathy.
True,
they borrow too heavily from Evil StepMother's playbook,
her monocultural empty-empire building manual
"How to compete for passion and pleasure
natural wealth
without sufficient impassioned
spiritual health"
Still,
StepMom didn't write this manual alone.
This scripture is as old as lack of requited love
our severed selves.
And,
what are the karmic outcomes for these Sisters,
lacking grace
to invite Cinderellas to share their space?
A decade
a year
a month
a day,
an hour,
a minute,
a moment devoid of choosing integrity's warm possibility,
humor facing absurd lust for monolithic power,
blind hope to control healthy life
at least spirited enough to dull awareness
of inevitable natural dying alone,
results in living too much lonely
consuming absence of full loving life,
producing integrity of compassioned pleasure
Disassociated disrepair
eats and addicts acids of empire-defensive despair
until nutrients of isolation mature
into toxic self-disserving Evil StepSpinsters
and bully UnBrothers
Monsters spinning tragic runaway addictions
breeding chaotic anger,
fear of our darkness, our mortal trauma terror,
our lack and misery and loss,
hating our own unredemptive suffering.
Ugly StepSisters are stuck
in silos of their own discontent
echoing Evil StepMother's voice
foolishly demanding patriarchal satisfaction
with a closed RightHand dominant fist
when grace is hers and his to choose
by merely opening Her heart
to radically compassionate
co-empathic curiosity
and win/win pleasures
of unconditional warm hospitality
for all our Cinderellas,
Prince Charmings,
more oppositionally defiant StepSisters
and homophobic UnBrothers.
Jaundiced Eyes
Jaundiced eyes covet past tense masquerades
In crypts where yellowed brittleness recall bitterness
Where glassy-eyed failures suck truth dry -
Vampires with addictions
Distorting graveyards at the altar
Of introspection
Like green-eyed monsters
Grasping
At monetary dust of renunciation -
As thirty silver coins of delusion
Smash against a field of potter’s headstones
Of mummified expectations –
Snake eyes coil to strike
Festering bones of rose colored bifocals
Framed with near-sighted prejudice
In cock-eyed bloodied clarity distorted
Prescriptions,
Opaque, ochre tinted corrections
See beauty as bloodless crumbling petals
When black holes of envy blind side the mindful
Blaspheming the self-evident
In catacombs of blind spots
Where the battered armor of rightness lies still
Awaiting revelation’s softly spoken new light -
A perpetual whispering
In humility's tears restoring lenses knowing the need
For a baptism of clear-eyed focus.
6-25-21
Contest: The Jaundiced Eye
Sponsor: Unseeking Seeker
“Has it come to this?” I heard myself ask,
As I stood opposite the mirror in the gloom.
I blinked a pained wink,
As I lent on the sink,
In the cold, dank, dark, joyless bathroom.
“It is what it is” I heard myself reply,
As I stared straight back through the deep thoughts of me.
My ear still hears,
As my spirit disappears,
And I realize I must fight to be free.
“Do I want it to change” I heard myself query,
As I bent back to sit on the tub.
My knees both sighed,
All my other joints cried,
I just wanted to go to the pub.
“I can alter my course” I heard myself say,
As I defiantly rose through the harm.
I don’t need any grog,
I’ll fight like a dog,
Instead of alcohol I’ll rely on my charm.
“I’ll have a quick coffee.” I heard myself propose,
As I staggered into the cafe.
White with one,
My dry spell had begun,
Now all I needed was an ashtray.
He was addicted to things
Alcohol, drugs and gambling
All the things that cause a heart to stumble
And lead a life into a darkness so very humbling
He didn’t see the way we prayed
For his victory over this tragic sin
He didn’t know how we begged God to protect
And heal him from the sorrow that was his
He was like most addicts are
Headstrong and sure he knew best
Yet we could see he was drawn to the night
Where pain and mourning were fully alive
He didn’t believe we knew what was right
And chose to give his best to some drink or pill
Laughing all the way down this lonely, lifeless street
Where dread and fear accompany feelings of sad regret
He was always listening to the words
That told him he was not worthy or capable
He never heard the words we said when we told him
He was more important to us than he could ever imagine
He didn’t notice when we cried
Or feel the pain when he denied the truth
That he was one of the people addictions fed
With remorse, regret and reflections of wickedness
He was kind in ways I can’t express
Giving of his heart in ways that was blessed
Yet, he couldn’t rid his mind of the plaquing destroyer
Who told him life brought with it the sin of these afflictions
He didn’t know I longed for him to turn away
From the shadows that haunted his heart and soul
Leave them behind and carry faith on his thoughts
Where I could delight in the miracle of his cure
He was a light who was smothered by addictions
I wish it wasn’t so, but he left this world of affliction
And we were left behind to try and find the peace
That comes from knowing relief from this overwhelming grief
He didn’t allow us to know what raged within
The worries, fears or hurt that troubled his feelings
And left us with no choice but to pray for his soul
Which struggled to breathe in hope, faith and love
Only God knows if he is looking down on us from above
But I simply have faith that tells me… God knows
And God is the assurance of an eternal hope
He guides, strengthens and protects us through it all
God is love and Love is God – Cry out to Him
And He will answer your sincere call