Long Heroin Poems
Long Heroin Poems. Below are the most popular long Heroin by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Heroin poems by poem length and keyword.
Hers was a complete change of personality, moods, and friends
Her joyful happy self, turned rapidly sarcastic, mean, and secretive
Her eating habits changed; she did not need food any more.
Stopped eating with the family, painted her room black.
Threw her flute into the garbage. She had outgrown it.
Scoffed that she had ever been a cheerleader, calling them names.
Her friends stopped coming. She made new ones, they were in and out.
None stayed long. Just a few minutes.
Her family saw glimpses of her unhappiness as she ran in and out
Of her room, slamming doors, playing music, not doing her homework.
Her A’s and B’s nosedived into D’s and F’s, and she laughed about it.
Rapid distrust toward her siblings. Name-calling, which had never happened.
Stopped going to school until it was nigh onto impossible to keep up.
Sneaked out of the house at night; they never knew where she would be.
Left in cars with people she did not know. Parents blamed her friends.
It was their fault, not hers. She was their princess. She was perfect.
Secrecy became the norm. Her laughter became loud and ugly.
Her prettiness was gone; her hair was dingy. She stopped wearing deodorant.
Grandparents wondered where she was at Thanksgiving and Christmas.
They were given many lies from parents and her siblings. Everyone covering.
Not my child! They said when the possible truths were pointed out.
That does not happen in our neighborhood.
We are not that kind of parent.
Our child would never be an alcoholic or a drug addict.
The entire family circled the wagons,
refusing to join neighborhood barbeques.
The children were taught that the people at church
were do-gooders, and look-downers.
The children were taught that the neighbors
they once adored were now the enemy.
They were protecting the princess,
who seldom came home, sneaking in and out,
When they were asleep. Not in our family! They said. Not in our family!
The do-gooders and down-lookers were prominent at her funeral.
They had raised children also who had been lured into
the terrifying swallow-up world of drugs and alcohol.
They had so many stories; horrifying real life stories
they had never shared even though they had innumerable
opportunities at church functions and bar-b-ques.
Snapping fingers, a low hum in the microphone)
Hey, It's Café Jazz/ But we ain't just sipping black coffee and snapping our fingers in polite applause/
Talkin' Bop/ first idiom where being white wasn't the fast track to success/ Yeah, dig it/ Bop was the soundtrack/ To anxieties, to late nights, to dreams deferred/
A nervous tremor in the rhythm/ Hard to play/ Man, you don't even KNOW. Only Bird, Diz, Miles...a constellation of cats burning bright, digging deep into a new conception in jazz/
A new hip way/ The hard Bop LP Clifford Brown and Max Roach, Study in Brown, 1955?
Got heads blown right off/ This isn’t just music, see?/
It's talkin' 'bout you, talkin' 'bout me/ talkin' 'bout life getting ready to take on a new form/ Be-Bop Creating a dialogue in Blending ideas, twisting sounds, birthing a style from the after-hours jam sessions at Minton’s Playhouse, Harlem/
Extreme virtuosity/ blistering speed/ /dissonant chords/ chordal substitutions – a vocabulary of rebellion/
Offbeat piano action, more action, SUPA DUPA HIGH VOLTAGE, MAN! Scorching tempos mirrored the doped-up lives...the pain... the desperation...of some Bop masters/
Even the beat poets... yeah, they copped the style/ the wicked mix of horn blowin' break-your-freakin'-neck speed, the Bop notes bleeding into their verses/ Jazz poetry on fire/
Did Bop influence Lenny Bruce? while doin’ a A-bomb of Heroin and Marijuana in the back of the room of his late night gig/
Is you black, or is you white?/
That question still under the skin of Jazz America/ still inching, scratching, Racism out of jazz/
Where are the jazz lords of the in-between at?/
What's the jazz world like today? Well, your ride is way clean, man/ got the chrome shinin', the leather gleamin'/ but… your gas tank is on E. (Silence, save for the click of the microphone being switched off)
Rainbow Nation
Blanca is white like beautiful snow in the Drakensberg Mountains
she snorted star powder past the perforated septum into her brain
Black as coal from the underworld mines in Mpumalanga Melanie
had her stomach pumped and purged while sleeping off darkness
Amber is coloured mixed race in the Rainbow of Nations her work
still paid in dop cheap vine that slaves her away in alcoholic trance
Arnav of Indian descent was hooked on dagga grown by the ocean
converted to heroin sold her frail body and skin for brown liquid sugar
Jacobus Bandele Lungelo and Bhavin shared needles and comfort
on the streets of Johannesburg flirted with disaster drug related crime
and their dealers cracked at the dawn longed for dust in the dusk
Drugs do not respect colour gender ability social class and religion
all druggies are equal with craving dependency not restricted to some
Now united in rehab like the state of the nation they all stood at the
table of mountains with one foot in the grave at the cliff face of habit
One day at the moment they now battle their demons resist the temptation
for only the time being from one morning away from the devious mourning
one drug line not taken one fall off the wagon shunned and avoided for now
They have all chased the dragon for far too long and imbibed with the devil
for so many wretched days and nights of delusion torment addiction and pain
Again once more each day anew their only chance to abstain one day at the time
STILL LIFE
flowers for a friend,
he still holds.
a silent pause.
holding his breath.
he stares at the cold
gray stone,
as if, it was all alone.
his eyes are numb,
no tears yet flow.
heart squeezes tight,
remembering this young man
he grew up with.
tortured by his friend’s descent
into the demonic control of heroin,
and how he pushed him away.
~
but in the end he cried for help,
strapped to a medical table,
unable to open his eyes,
surprised by the prayer -
so loving...so kind.
~
his friend lost his fight for life,
too far buried beneath his infirmity,
his body could not survive.
but he prays that his friend’s soul
found solace, at last,
unfettered from the flesh.
he finally lays the flowers down
on bended knee, tear drops fall
upon the grass, and walks away.
9/16/2017
Poems That Paint A Picture - 2 Contest
Playtime in the bone-pit.
Sanctified ritual amalgamates
sawdust savagery with infantile hunger
and births a blank recognition
within the eyes of the disbelieving.
What is it?
Praise be to the Geek.
Empty, gone and automated he devours
his daily bread of chickens and rodents with
a dry heroin mouth that grinds and chews
towards infinite sideshow pay days.
Strange but true!
Mister, he was made for it.
Humiliation sets in the veins like road tar,
inducing another bite of feathered neck
and flapping wing as his eyes fix on a
deceased, interior landscape that was once him.
All Alive!
The saint reflected.
Beyond self, he is indestructible.
Through tooth and stomach, he has
relinquished the facades of love and hate and
in his mouth they see themselves.
And they’ll always pay to watch him eat.
This a story of Lisa
she was born In south of Nigeria
Papa was a young dealer
her mama was high of Santa Maria.
Daddy said go to church everyday
But the pastor was tryne get in her.
Put his tongue in her mouth
When she told her dad He slapped her “Lisa”
Dumb girl Don’t be lying here
She was dumbfound like mama
They called the family pastor started deliverance on her matter
Took her back to the church and they left her home alone with that pastor
20 abortions later she was filled with hate for her father.
Crying to God on her knees everyday
and she looking for a single answer
Only silence came Took her bags and ran
Then she ended in the house of a gangster
So wait
They Told her she beautiful
They Told her she really cool
They Told her to take clothes off
Let them photograph nudes
Flashlight on journey to ****
Heroin coke and the Molly she’s done
Drowning in darkness Drowning in darkness
There’s no light at the end of the tunnel
How many nights unpaid
How many nights of sex
How many nights of rape.
She looks at the sextape and cries out
This for my sisters that been abused and live sad
Stuck with a memory of the past so they relapse
This for my sisters that need God but feel bad
There’s a light at the end of the tunnel so don’t give up
Lisa became the biggest pornstar at 24
Fast money Fast Life
lying on her pretty fours
No shame white eyes daddy’s girl was living raw
Since he didn’t play his role attention was her daddy now
The comment section and the million followers got needier
She learnt this love ain’t real cos all they wanted was that nastier
Gangbang threesomes she’s breaking every mirror
She gained the world and lost her soul the drug abuse was deadlier
overdose and found herself lying in a hospital
A picture on the wall says “God loves you” and she’s crying out
“Why did you leave me,” She wept
“Why didn’t you help me, you left”
She felt a hand on her shoulder and a soft voice say
“Forgiveness was the answer
Forgive your past first Forgive yourself next
Pain is a guest That becomes entitled
when you let it stay longer through shame and regret”
(Part Two, Continued)
The better choice of the two, I believe is clear enough even for the ignorant.
Everyday a new adventure in human psychology, pain, and suffering.
allowed the privilege to interact with an endless array of human variety.
This disease knows no race, gender, class, sexuality, or political affiliation.
afflicting far more than the deranged few, as some would have you believe
a stereotype of persons with addiction, to create distance from the disease
It is possible that every living human, knows, or is related to someone afflicted.
Denying to acknowledge their loved ones condition, is the definition of ignorant.
It seems only fitting that the cause of our modern day's massive rise in addiction
Heroin, so numerous in its effects, stronger than any before, and more addicting
Is the direct descendant of man's original addictive remedy, the Opium Poppy.
The worlds percentage of heroin addicted persons, passing epidemic proportions
nothing in our lifetimes has possessed this level of destructive power.
society barely managed to subdue and heal from the international Opium problem
The fact an implication of how difficult this new epidemic will be to stop
A terrible time to be an addict, but prosperous for entrepreneurial persons
Maybe this is my chance to increase my level of success in my current hustle
I have the ability, knowledge, and connections to be a true kingpin.
However, one constant continuously holds me firmly at my current level of success
Held back so long by addiction, I finally realize the extent of my enslavement
If I didn't have to support an immense and ever increasing drug habit
Long ago, I would have reached the level of extreme wealth and riches
I am embarrassed to admit the expense of my extremely costly past time
But, I will say with honesty the number spent resides in the millions
And, that is at distribution cost, purchasing quantity at a wholesale discount
Unaware and not wanting to know the true cost if bought at street price.
An entire lifetimes of earned yearly salaries, injected into my plump veins.
More money has gone into my veins, than into many millionaires bank accounts
If they hadn't been used to chase a short and fleeting sensation and feeling,
I would be among one of the richest individuals I know, without a doubt.
There was a millionaire inventor
Who was fatally wounded in the Vietnam war
An explosion from a bomb made shrapnel
Embedded in his heart
To save his life he encased body with a iron suit
Fought off the Viet cong
Game back home as the invincible, invincible
Ironman
But alas now a hero
So many villains rose up to kill him
And one day this was finally done?
But before his mysterious disappearance and death
He found a young intern an apprentice
Her name Riri Williams
And she's a genesis
Sooner or later maybe called iron heart
A college student out of MIT
Made her own suit of iron
Now a hero, no she's a heroin
A genus African american teenager
She's the new
Ironman
written by James Edward Lee Sr.
10/07/17
My Spellbinding Obsession
Written by D.W. Breidenthal
Like all obsessions,
I feel regret for getting
Into fantasy
Like all obsessions,
I think about my crazy
Fantasies...my mind's spinning & spinning...
I'm consuming ideas
Bliss - I'm a victim
Of my imagination
And my magical...
Spellbinding...desire
T'wards the Harry Potter books
J. K. Rowling's cool!
Kiss reality
Goodbye! I embraced fiction
In my childhood nostalgias
I'm brewin' up ideas
Like all obsessions,
They can be unhealthy
Or rather bizarre
Like all wild children,
I'm honestly curious
Of what lies ahead & its mysteries
But it's buried far
Below our feet...I'd rather
Drive a flying car!!!
Dedicated to my unhealthy obsession towards the Harry Potter series written by J.K. Rowling (one of fav. authors like evahhhhhh), but it was my childhood heroin (it got me hooked till this very day).
NO FEAR OF MR EXCESSIVE FORCE PRAWLING THE CITY FOR VIOLENT FEMALE OFFENDERS MEETUPS IN THE MOST NONSUSPECTING PLACES HIS FAVORITE MEXICAN MAN DIE HE PAYS HER FOR PERSONAL FAVORS WITH DRUGS IRONICALLY SENDING HER TO COMMIT HOME INVASIONS WHILE SHE'S AN HABITUAL REPEAT VIOLENT OFFENDER HARD DRUGS MANUFACTURER FRAUD IDENTITY THEFT MR EXCESSIVE FORCE PROVIDES A REVOLING PRISON DOOR FOR ALL HER CRIMES FEEDING HER COCAINE HEROIN AND MARIJUANA FROM POLICE LOCKERS SHE THEN GIVE FALSE STATEMENTS TO FRAME ENTRAP INNOCENT PERSONS BECAUSE SHE'S JEALOUS SHE ACTUALLY HAD RELATIONS WITH MY EX ABUSER HE ATTACKED HIS FAMILY ON CHRISTMAS EVE MAN DIE BRUTALLY BEAT HER OWN CRIPPLED UNDOCUMENTED MOTHER WITH HER CRUTCHES AS HE GATHER MORE FEMALE VIOLENT OFFENDERS FOR HIS TWISTED CAUSE HE STOMPS AND ON THE STREET HE IS LABELED THE SPECKLE PIG MEETING MAN DIE IN SECURE PLACES WHERE HE SHOULD BE PROVIDING SAFETY SECURITY GUARDED BUT HE CAN'T BECAUSE HE IS BUSY WITH CONJUGAL VISITS ON ELEVATTORS HALLWAYS BATHROOMS IN LOCAL BUSINESSES MAN DIE BRAGGS ABOUT HER POWER WITH MR EXCESSIVE FORCE ALLOWING HER TO CONTROL THE LOCAL FEMALE STREET GANG AS QUEEN PIN OVER MORE REPEAT FEMALE VIOLENT OFFENDERS FINALLY GIVING HER A NOTHER EARLY RELEASE FOR GIVING FALSE STATEMENTS AND COMMITING ONGOING HABITUAL REPEAT VIOLENT CRIMES NO FEAR OF YOUR SCUM SPAT SPAT TRULY SAD ABUSE OF POWER HAVING CONJUGAL VISITS ACROSS THE TOWN ON THE ELEVATOR IN LIBRARIES HOSPITALS YMCA TRAIN STATIONS APARTMENT BUILDINGS
GOD BLESS AMERICA