Long Drug addiction Poems
Long Drug addiction Poems. Below are the most popular long Drug addiction by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Drug addiction poems by poem length and keyword.
4/12/21
"Lonely"
The truth is
Leaving my health and finances in ruin
Towards THC and Alcohol, I've been abusive
I got a problem, Houston
Still driving a Ford Fusion
Why are they so quick to tell Newton
And Susan
After all I'm only human
Most my friends are animals, like Toothless
It's no illusion
I'm not stupid
I've just been reclusive
There's no reason to make up excuses
After all, it's useless
I've been listening to music
And doin' for me what is therapeutic
I could talk about it or just do it
I could show it or shoot it
I could accept such terms or refuse it
I could care less or I could prove it
I was foolish or I f****ng knew it
On came the cataclysm
Followed by a schism
A world full of skepticism
And criticism
As the waters remain murky or glisten
They say it's the truth
But the only proof
Is from what was written
Therefore a lot could be hidden
if they only show what they want you to see and hear
Pulling strings like a puppeteer
Sleight of hand, like a magician
One thing certain, time keeps tickin'
Intuition tellin' me somethin' is missin'
Misery avenue, is where I've been livin'
In addition
To battling a drug addiction
And alcoholism
The plot continues to thicken
Few if any listen
Zero recognition
Oh well, back to my mission
Got to finish the expedition
While I'm still in existence
It'll take persistence
And brilliance, not inconsistence
There'll be resistance
But I've got to cover a lot of distance
Only so much time we are given
Here one second, gone the next minute
Since people are so nosey
Often staying low-key
Keeping to myself mostly
The room always smoky
Drinking so much whatever, such as Peroni
Thought you did, but you must not know me
Still I feel so lonely
Looking for my one and only
Looking around closely
As time passes by quickly yet slowly
The real thing not phony
Or bologna
Still I feel so lonely
No one to say
captivity
brutal torture
starvation
forced civilization
abuse
manipulation
evil impurities
calamities
are an existence in our reality
nowadays
yet their is
no one to say
no one to say
depression
anxiety
murders and murderers
lies
wars
riots
destruction
corruption
killings
exploitation
this is our reality
in the third world
yet their is
no one to say
no one to say
Intimidation
evil authorities
stealing
money laundry
gun shots
assassination
unjustified jailing
inflation
poverty
discrimination
isolation
is all we get after
our political election
is true yet their is
no one to say
no one to say
child abuse
drug addiction
the homeless
illiterate
jungle justice
frustration
confusion
pollution
illness's
disease
is the reality in our
poor community
called the ghetto
is hard to bear
yet their is
no one to say
no one to say
I wonder why
the lips of the son
and daughters of africa
remain silent
I ask an old wise man
why this silence
he was silent too
but walked me up
to a large grave yard
then he point
to the grave
starring into my eyes
saying
those why have a say
was soon cut off
of life
if you say the truth
you will have your
part on one of this
grave
so I realise
the fear of life
was the author
of the silence
no wonder
despite the humiliation
yet their is still
no one to say
Through life’s clenched jaw, I'm in awe of my accomplishments. The pain in my life has started to fade as I open the blinds and pull back the shades. I've been reaching into my core, allowing my heart to pour out onto each page. Soaring through my thoughts, I watch my depression rot and wither. Looking back at my past gives me shivers; I was once homeless, covered in grit and grime. Sweat dripped down my face as I felt so out of place in reality, watching my life seep away like quicksand. Life didn’t deal me the best hand. Coming from a broken home, substance abuse was all I knew. This was my pattern for years until I was ready to shift gears. In a hopeless state of mind, I cried out for help, not knowing how to cope with the feelings that festered inside me. Narcotics Anonymous became my guide— a guiding light to break these chains within my heart and soul. Drug addiction won't continue to take its toll. I was lost to a society that no longer saw me as a person but as a transient on the street, hooked on drugs and unsure where I would sleep. The person I used to be is gone. I was able to right my wrongs and forgive those who caused me harm—not for them, but for myself, so I could move on. Move on from this torment that held me hostage—hostage to my disease between my ears. It was time to stop living in fear. The ways I coped for ten years left me in a chokehold I couldn't break alone, but with my loved ones by my side, I realized this was a road I didn't have to walk alone. I’ve grown from the broken, neglected little girl inside me—sewn back my broken pieces. If you're fighting something deep inside, don't give up hope, and let your pain be your guide. I hope you cry every tear without fear of judgment because you're introducing yourself to healing when you allow yourself to start feeling. I was once told it’s a sign of weakness to be vulnerable. But they were wrong, so I'll keep singing this song. The song of my pain, my sorrow, hoping to give someone else hope to live till tomorrow. I refuse to be labeled as an addict or a lost cause. The jaws of this world haven't swallowed me whole yet. The fire is burning in my soul, and with the help of others, my heart is whole.
WRITTEN IN DRUGS OF RAIN
Unscrupulous vulture-like officials standing inside skyscrapers;
they croon softly, but wield their pretentious tongues like blades--
casting spells on a throng of marginalized heads
whose mouths and bellies were squeezed and dried.
The promises they speak were written in a drugged rain
blown by the wind and dispersed in grains of misconception.
Beguiled man bit the taste and was addicted without haste.
(candle of hope was trampled --toppled down to fade..)
Secretly, these greedy, flesh -eating crocodiles of today
collude under wooden tables.
Their lust for gold and silver screaming,
they fill their jars of wickedness;
voraciously they feed their minds-- harlots of desire.
The big bellied ones whistle trying to clamp
leeches who don't only suck blood but also innocence;
but when the cluster of eggs break-- hatches
as they run so fast and release a loud.... prrrrt!
The misuse of drugs and ignorance cause
bodies to be spread in dirty smelly gutters.
The users mutilated dignity comes from a constant craving for
shots and puffs from these drugs leading to
gruesome miscarriage of suppose to be~~
--golden flowering dreams for tomorrow,
--transformers to a more unified earth,
--angels bearing an eye for justice and peace.
Manifold arrests for drugs affect the youth
and all others who grasp the illusions of euphoria.
Concerned individuals' throat drying cries, a forlorn scourge of agony...
Oh God, what sight that will be!
And now,
Shall we, knowledgeable of the effects of drug addiction, let such things happen?
Won't we drubbed such escalated catena of grief by doing something?
What can we impart?
What can we do to care?
When will we start?
©O. E. Guillermo
8:44 pm; November 13, 2014
Sponsor Debbie Guzzi
Contest Name Global Poetry
placed 3rd
I admire great poets old,
perusing the tragic ends.
Researching their writing styles and patterns
their layouts, rhyming, punctuation, moods,
in dark solitude they penned dreadful words.
Many, end by suicide,
others of drug addiction.
John Berryman threw himself off a bridge,
Weldon Kees, disappeared into nowhere,
Rupert Brooke, he died at twenty-seven.
Some living a good long life,
with a death due to old age.
Merwin had a childhood full of sadness,
but he found his Zen in nature writing,
he explained his style as an open form.
Abraham Klein, a recluse
he lapsed into a silence.
Called, one of Canada's greatest writers,
here is one that published at eight years,
Wilber, he lasted to ninety-six and wrote.
I admire great poets old,
perusing the tragic ends.
_________________________
March 7, 2018
Poetry/Blank Verse/Old Poets Dead
Copyright Protected, ID 18-1001-977-01
All Rights Reserved. Written Under Pseudonym.
Written for the contest, Seven-Ten
sponsor, Emile Pinet
First Place
A few years ago I got sick. Real sick. Hospital sick. Near death sick. But I
survived or I would not be writing this. I had several surgeries but this story is
not about that. It is about the drug Fentanyl, a powerful pain killer, ten times
stronger than Morphine. Yes, that is what they were giving me to control the
pain. I was in the hospital six months, so you can imagine the addiction I had
to this drug. The doctors were smart though, because about four weeks before
I was to come home, they started the take me off Fentanyl. It was to be done
very slowly, but still I had a terrible reaction. My body had got used to it and it
liked it. I would thrash around the bed like a lunatic. They were only giving
me small doses of it and also giving me Tylenol. (TYLENOL, I would say, that is
USELESS!) The doctors kept telling me, " you do not need it anymore." (YEAH,
that's what YOU think. I NEED it!) Well, after the four weeks, I came down to
earth. I was free again to be me. It was then, that I realized how easy it is
to become addicted to a prescription drug.
oh it was dreamy
lost in a haze of nothing-
crashing down screaming
Now years later, I am hearing on the news that people are dying from taking
Fentanyl. This drug has hit the street and is killing people. They love the high,
and take more than the dose any doctor would perscribe. It is a killer and must
be treated with respect. To take it for a high, is a death wish.
a sad funeral
the teen was so beloved-
it was just one time
_________________________
May 30, 2016
Poetry/Haibun/Senryu/Prescription Drug Addiction
Copyright Protected, ID 16-796-202-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
For the contest, The colorful Drug
sponsor, Lewis Raynes
Second Place
Born in Aberdeen Washington
where he hung out,
“Underneath the bridge,
the tarp has sprung a leak”
Taught himself to play guitar,
liked to smoke some weed,
“And the animals I’ve trapped
have all become my pets”
Started writing songs,
had very deep meaning,
“And I’m living off of grass
and drippings from the ceiling”
Formed the band Nirvana
with some of his buddies,
“But it’s ok to eat fish,
cause they don’t have any feelings”
“Something in the way”
boy he’s got ambition,
“Something in the way yeah”
unwavering conviction,
“Something in the way”
chronic stomach condition,
“Something in the way yeah”
impending perdition.
Records started to sell
superstardom beckoned,
“Underneath the bridge,
the tarp has sprung a leak”
Took the billboard chart by storm,
Grunge had found its champion,
“And the animals I’ve trapped
have all become my pets”
Money started to come in,
met ‘Courtney Love’ it seems,
“And I’m living off of grass,
and drippings from the ceiling”
Got married had a child,
They named her Frances Bean,
But it’s ok to eat fish,
cause they don’t have any feelings.
“Something in the way”
by your own admission.
“Something in the way yeah”
is it drug addiction,
“Something in the way”
rehab with no remission,
“Something in the way yeah”
a round of ammunition.
Nothings in the way,
they can feel you breathing,
Board spells out your name
a very eerie feeling,
Gun went off by mistake
is the wound still healing,
Sigrid’s seance was no fake,
I am so believing,
A voice of burning nails
exorcising demons,
Goodbye Kurt Cobain
tarp was only weeping.
By
David Kavanagh
Inspired by
Sigrid Ermine poem
Called by Cobain seance
Lyrics “something in the way” by,
Kurt Cobain.
Sad but true
People are quick to judge, they see my tattoos, my personal art on a canvas of what was me before all the crap has drug me down to the deepest the depths, and yet I manage to always emerge from the pain, loss and heartache. The doc says I have PTSD and bipolar depression from it, although I somehow manage a smile to passersby even if it is fake, I attempt to make others days a little brighter. Drug addiction alcoholism couldn't even hold me down for long because I know I am better than that some days it's a struggle to force myself out of bed but in my head, I sing broken because I gather the shattered pieces and glue myself back together. Sad but true disturbed is my mind in my dreams just a little stronger every day. Purple haze smoke enters my lungs as I lay back listening to sitting on the dock of the bay wanting to be their pole and my toes in water, wondering what tomorrow holds!
Give me some LSD, Baby
I need this fix
I need that high
Let's give it a try
Psychedelic sight and sound
Taking off...off the ground
Only feeling...feeling...feeling
Reeling...reeling...reeling....
brought on by YOUR LSD
Love's Sexy Desire
Only you can give it to me
You....my "drug" dealer
My pain healer
my fantasy feeder
my euphoria reaper
my ecstasy peaker
Tonight, baby, tonight!!
Withdrawal symptoms are killing me
Give me your LSD
Love's Sexy Desire
Give it to me, Baby
Multiple trips
With your firm grip
Licking my lips
Making me strip
gliding on hips
honey drips...drips
Oh, baby, B A B Y Y Y Y
I'm flying high!!
You grunt and I sigh
We're painting the sky
LSD, telling this world bye bye
Love's Sexy Desire
Shoot it up me now
Baby, you know how
now Now NOW
Oh...oh...WOW
W~O~W
!!!WOW!!!
W~*~*~O~*~*~W
Eileen
I was just playing with words here. Please feel free to comment. If you find the content offensive...please let me know, and I'll remove the poem. I know drug addiction is NOT something to taken lightly. I know what addiction is. Please give me feedback. Hugs to one and all...My daughter informed me that LSD is not something you shoot up! Ahem....well, for the purpose of THIS poem, it is! ;)
…Before: DIZZY INDEED
Afflicted… ailing due to drug addiction
Bum he had become
Chained to conceit’s cage
Dysfunctional driven by delusion-dizziness…
-----Now: DIZZY NO MORE
Enveloped by God’s love enormously
Freed from addiction fall toward faith’s flight
Guarded with goodness grace
Hoisted along heavenly hope…
Instilled with the Saviour’ righteousness-imputation
Joyous new creation* he experiences midst jeering judgment
Kindness showing with Christ’s keeping
Love of the Lord sharing; leading others to His light.
*2Corinthians 5:17 Therefore if any man be in Christ, he is a new creature: old things are passed away; behold, all things are become new.
September 3, 2019
3rd place, "Bring a character to life" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Richard Lamoureux; judged on 9/7/2019.