Long Junkie Poems
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SUDDENLY SOMETHING
Have you ever spent a night in a six by ten foot cell?
Well that’s where my FESTERING fears dwell
And no one with a prescription pad will write for a junkie born and bred
Did you ever wish more earth dwellers would all suddenly be dead
Look, there’s a pretty little miss, oh it’s daddy’s little girl
She dances on my feet when she starts to whirl
I told her to hold down her pleated skirt when she begins to twirl
My little girl with a smile and every tooth a perfect pearl
In silent supplication I’d sneak up to hear her prayer for that eve
I just wanted to hear daddy’s little girl pray and then I would leave
First she blessed the Almighty, his spirit and his soul
Making prayers come true was her sole and only goal
It could be a league of angels advising her on the right thing to do
Or sprites to make all things look like new
It might be little singing stars, from above came they for you
So your daughter can ignore an errant and off key dove pleased not to coo
She looks completely comfortable in a cloak and coat of cashmere
S**t, I’d trade an arm for her body no matter what she may wear
Whatever happens next is only though fate to be willed
And if you listen closely one can hear the breeze being stilled
Alas she grows nigh with hips swinging and lips moving
And then those loquacious lips emitted “would you care to have a tea”
I knew she could hear by heart from across the table
And then it was only silence, lovely her and me
“Look, me and that lady over there are wearing the same dress”
And so whatever she was going to do it may have to be under duress
“that lady has the a copy of my original,” and she was enraged
Something tells me your friends have never been caged
I’ve been penned up with a pen, pen pals and ten pencils, but only one isn’t too dull
You’d think out of all those pencils there’d be one sharp one to cull
So you’re daddy’s little girl no longer my sweet
But I’ll let y’all know when next we can meet
So when I first talked about being caged in a cell
if asked for the truth my story would be difficult to tell
Because each eye a gem, each tooth a pearl
So tell me sweetheart, are you still daddy’s little girl
© 2011.……free cee!
And s.b.---if you are gonna ask me, so where’s the nexus from one thing to another I
say go have another glass of vintage brandy.
I see so many wrapped up in rage,
it consumes them all despite their age,
anger not caused by crimes they’ve suffered,
but by ideas that some have proffered,
brought about by those malicious lies
that a person must ‘identify,’
then rant and cry as if there victims,
and some how absolved of any sin.
Brought about by scorning tradition,
and making choices supremely dumb,
not finding solace in family,
but believing they’ll ‘change history.’
The crux of it, of their angry fate,
is the need of humans to feel great,
we all feel it, but how it’s fulfilled
leads them to talking a bitter pill.
Rather then having kids of their own,
to take pride in when they are grown,
rather than build their abilities
and achieve greatness that all can see,
they instead proclaim that they’re ‘heroes,’
off fighting the power, don’t you know,
and when all the world seems ‘villainy’
it’s required that you be angry.
When something can make you feel that way
you’ll do anything to make it stay,
like a junkie seeking the first high…
the things you will do to feel alive…
Say man is woman, and women men,
take a whole sex and disparage them,
say one skin is fine, all others jerks,
pillory those folks who dare to work,
cling to ideas that killed millions,
wish your own culture to be undone,
ignore all the truths you plainly see,
to feel righteous from being angry.
This is what makes them feel good in life,
loosing that cuts worse than any knife,
they’ll proclaim you should lose all your speech,
then they’ll tell you what to think and preach,
what you should eat, and do for a job,
and dictate to you your thoughts on God,
convinced they’re elite, they’ve got it right,
that utopia is within sight,
making politics substitute faith,
so all not onboard ‘deserve’ their hate…
and their lies the great hypocrisy,
their anger is warmed up tyranny.
Their false righteousness won’t turn the page,
you can’t go backwards to a ‘better’ age,
leaving them stuck in an endless loop,
making them angry and lifelong dupes,
with little chance of finding some peace,
their addiction offers no release,
they’ll scream ‘anti-fascist,’ roam the street,
looking for random people to beat,
they’ll double down and will never find
that they are trapped in childish minds,
it must suck hard to be so PC,
forced to forever be so angry.
Goodnight to our Rome with all your garrisons
and your streets that have become
as loveless as empty barracks.
For you I will never weep.
After all,
your Senators
Who made the deals
To keep the last
Last
And the first bored
and lost in ennui,
govern the burning ruins
of the human city which evicted the cobbler
and used the electorate as a weapon
With unforgiving recoil
Which guarantees
that
the bottom will stay at the bottom
and dance to the music of the
midnight carousel.
2
Now that the middleman has been cast
To the prairie grass
With his own middle cut away
His fate was decided over lunch
The legal apparatus has fallen from its hinge
Leaving only the greatest felony
Unnamed.
And who are our neighbors
When we’re sentenced to the
Four year winter hotel?
Will they be the nameless ghosts
Evicted from their bodies by those
Who are afforded the right to escape the tombs
With kept wives in cheap furs
And Upper eastside penthouses.
And in all those apartments
All the beautiful people
Wash down oxycodone with fine wine
While bitching about the junkie below.
“Send the cops to clean up the drug
Problem,” they cry.
“All addictions should come with a ‘scrip.”
It takes a truly trained country
with few alternatives
to put a knife to its own throat
or hand it over
to an orange buffoon
with a poor hair cut
in a loveless room.
He always
lines up his bets
on what con will turn the American heart
into just another dead
theater
where it was all the show of shows.
And when the decision is made
The worst one is chosen.
The decision has certainly been made.
For what other country
Choses a landlord so crooked
All self-respecting cons
Walk past him
Never stopping at all
For fear he will pick their pockets clean
For he is the biggest con of all,
Who now has to do a sometimes honest man’s job.
Those he loved the least
Ignored all the papers
Who for once
Didn’t celebrate
The game of chance
But cried out
With the urgency of a siren
During an air raid
to pick the other.
While he spoke as one of the mob
His heart was that of a landlord
Looking to evict
All his useful idiots
From their lots.
For now he can expect nothing in the end
But to stand on the stairs
Or escalator
When all your Senators approach
smiling
with drawn knives.
“Et tu Sessions?”
Here come try this you will have soo much fun.
You will loose everything you have every material posession and every loved one.
Up all night riding bicycles and treasure hunting through other people’s trash.
Cuz ya don’t make any money getting high but have to come up with some ing cash..
Every day ya wake up same ing bull same routine.
ing someone’s stolen your how you wish ya never did this and ya were clean.
Chasing after something that doesn’t give a about you but your jonesing needing to get high.
Eating what ya can and selling what ever ya can to get by.
Alienating loved ones cuz ya don’t want them seeing you this way.
Til one day they are gone and your still stuck reliving each day..
Cuz they will eventually get sick of your and you will blame them cuz they turned there back on you.
You burned bridges more than just one but a few.
Depression will creep in there is no more fun to be had
Wishing you had listened to your mom and your dad.
if ya only knew then what ya know now you wouldn’t be on this course you would be straight.
But that ain’t the truth ya knew deep down but ya decided this fait.
Too big of a coward to face your problems like a man.
So ya drown out the pain the best that you can.
But the closet became to full of bones and the doors were pushed open.
You can’t hide no more you cant be fixed your too broken.
So you go and try something stronger to help you to cope.
No one to listen your only friend ya confided in was the dope.
And it’s turned it’s back on you it won’t help hide all those tears.
Your stuck all alone to face your past and your fears.
But this all started out one day with a choice you knew ya shouldn’t have made.
A choice to do something stupid ya were told not to since probably first grade.
But I can do what ever I want nothing controls me.
If that was the truth everyone would be clean and there would be no one unhappy.
But hey what do I know I’m just a junkie looser with a finger And a screen.
Typing away about he knows nothing about and things he’s never seen.
I wish this was true cuz this is my ing misery every day .
To lost to ask for forgiveness and to proud to get on my knees and pray.
Hate who the I became and barely recognize myself anymore.
But hey can’t ing wait to see what tomorrow has in store.
*Holly (Vault Dweller)*
Hey bartender,
Who's that girl over there,
The one nursing the whiskey in the corner,
She has that press hat one that makes her look...strangely debonair.
*Bartender*
That'll be our little Ms. Piper Wright,
She runs the local paper,
Spends all day looking for a story then types the rest of the night,
Bit standoffish at first but quite the looker.
*Holly*
Hahah I'll say,
Just look at that red trench-coat and suit,
And that piercing stare,
Comes off tart as a mutfruit,
But it just bounces right off her wavy hair,
And goooosssh those lips,
Their silky sheen betrays the steel of her gun,
Dangling from her buxom hips,
Armed with an unabashed tongue,
Clearly her deadliest weapon,
Complimenting her feisty spirit perfectly preserved in an hourglass figure both fair and young,
Fully stocked with an arsenal of wisecracks, worthy armaments for free speech's most sensuous bastion,
Avid journalistic endeavors personify her inquisitive nature,
Reporting the most controversial conspiracy or the latest Publick Occurrences,
With jaw-dropping headlines fueled by her insatiable determination not even the mayor can escape her snooping typewriter,
How this vixen has eluded both the aging of time and voraciousness of lovers is beyond me,
And I think I'm allllmost drunk enough to go over and talk to her,
Should only take me another couple of rounds before I'll have the guts to...ah who am I kidding,
I'm over 200 years old there's no way she'd ever go for a pre-war relic regardless of who well preserved.
*Bartender*
News flash buddy, she's single,
Read today's headlines and you might find the subtle hints,
Listen to her playful comments of life and lust weaved in-between the innocuous babble,
The words may take their place in the articles but her true message is hidden underneath the paper's yellow tint,
She's young and lookin for love just the rest of us here in the Wasteland,
So what've you got to loose hotshot go get her,
Or do you need another round on the house give you the upper hand?
*Holly*
Well damnit bartender one more round it is,
If you don't from her till morning it'll be one of two things,
Either I've been utterly rejected and lying in a ditch,
Or I'll be too busy ignoring the world trying to make her mine.
Dear Molly,
For you, I feel nothing but anger, contempt, and disdain, because you made me believe that you were the cure for all my psycho-emotional pain. I surrendered my heart and my soul to you Molly and I even let you take control of my brain.
At one point in time, I didn't know who or what monster you turned me into. But one thing I do know, Molly you made it impossible to get through my days and nights without you.
You had control of my body now Molly, and if I didn't choose you, you would make me feel so sick inside to the point where I was helpless not knowing what to do.
Molly, you made me fall in love with you, you are my smoove, silky slim! What did you say Molly? “To hell with my wife and kids.., I ain't worried about them!
I was so messed up about you Molly, I started doing things I swore I would never do, lying and stealing from the people who meant the most to this KID. Molly, they say, for a junkie to get what he has to have, he will do things he never did!
Molly, you had me convinced that throughout my whole life you were determined to stay, and I didn’t have the strength to turn from you and just walk away.
Before I knew it Molly, everyone I loved had seen this side of me that was hurting them inside, every time my family or my counselors questioned me and asked me to confide, I did what you taught me to do Molly.., I looked at them straight in their eyes and I lied.
I wanted to let you go so bad Molly and get you out of my way, but I was so scared to even tell someone.., so fearful of what they would say.
Molly, I didn’t want to be judged like that, so it was a decision I would have to make, but I've wasted so much time with you Molly, it might be a little too damn late.
Incarceration was a curse I knew it was going to come down to, but Molly the blessing is that it made me free and emotionally relieved, knowing that I could not get to you.
Dear Molly, it was a struggle, but it was a worthwhile fight, because now I’m in control again and today you are out of my life.
Being sober turned me into the person I've always wanted to be, and Molly, I know it was the one day you were praying I would never see.
Now I am doing all the good things I never imagined myself to do, and proudly I can say I am doing them Molly.., without you!
I can't seem to concentrate or even get my
mind right. I'm losing sleep and suffer
from a sudden loss of apetite. I'm shakin'
in the heat and sweatin' in the snow and
all the while this is happening, this girl
don't even know that she haunts me in my
dreams and I wake up in a sweat. She's like
an old recurring dream that I just can't
forget. I'm feeling like I'm ill, like I've
caught some sort of flu. I feel like I could
faint when she steps into my view. She's
out of the ordinary; nothing like I've ever
seen. It's like my heart plays the puppet
and she's tuggin' on the strings. She's
knows that she's a beauty and she's
probably sick of hearing about it. But that's
the drug that gets me lifted. Like a junkie,
can't live without it. It's like an unspoken
agreement that this girl is such a hottie.
And the talk around the cooler is that man,
she's got a body. Her hair flows for days
and her eyes could cast spells. Soft skin
like a pearl just released from its shell. Her
voice is like a song sung only by those with
halos. Plus she's got a booty similar to that
of J.Lo's. But the thing that's really crazy is
that we've never really spoken. We're still
strangers and the "ice" has never really
broken. There's this mystery about her
that not only appeals to me, it makes me
want her more because it feels so real to
me. I pray that at work she's the one that
works beside me. Then maybe I could
reveal these feelings I have that eat inside
me. But I don't wanna jump the gun or get
ahead of myself but she has brought out
all these feelings that for so long I haven't
felt. I've gained a little wisdom as to how
relationships go but I still wanna go old
school and write little notes. I'll tell her
that I like her and ask her if she feels the
same. Check yes or check no. Don't forget
to sign your name. But I gotta do
something because I'm losing to much
time. Before I know it she'll be gone and
I'll be left wondering why. I just gotta say
more than three words and things should
be cool. I just hope that I don't stutter and
end up looking like a fool. It's just when I
look her in the eyes my mind starts to flip
and all I can think to say is "uh, what's the
code for chips."
Form:
It's gettin' late and
we couldn't wait.
Me and Ma just downed 12 cold beers.
It's seven o'clock
and we both are crocked.
And my drug dealer’s fi-nal-ly here.
My ole Dad’s a stinkin’ like
a skunk who’s been binge drinkin’
as my poor Mom slumps in her chair.
My sister looks hot
after smoking some pot.
I’m hoping that she’ll surely share-a!
OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! –
C'mon and give me some medications!
I've had it with your saccharine!
Whoa! Saturday Night's alright for sleeping.
Getta little shut-eye in.
Gonna be as sleepy as Van Winkles brain.
Gonna set my clock – yeah, right!
Cause Saturday Night’s tonight, goodnight!
Saturday Night’s tonight – Goodnight…Goodniiiiiiight!
Woooooooh!Oooooooh!Ooooh!Ooooh!Ooooh!
Well I’m whacked fairly tight
and feeling light.
Taking one more Percocet will do me right.
I may slug some Robitussin
and suck-in some weed.
Popping three more oxycontins will be
all I’ll need!
A couple-of-a drugs that are really keen
Are Sominex and Nytol
with doxylamine.
I'm a juvenile junkie who hasn’t any class
Watching Motrin PM tablets
fizz in a glass.
OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! –
C'mon and give me some medications!
I'm tired of potassium!
Saturday Night's alright for sleeping.
Getta couple Zzzz-Zzzz’s in.
Gonna guzzle Ny-Quil ‘til I feel no pain.
Pullin’ down my shades real tight.
Cause Saturday Night’s tonight, goodnight!
Saturday Night’s tonight – Goodnight…Goodniiiiiiight!
Oooooooh!Oooooooh!Ooooh!Ooooh!Ooooh!
Saturday…Saturday!
Saturday…Saturday…Saturday!
Saturday…Saturday…Saturday!
Saturday Night, goodnight!
Saturday…Saturday!
Saturday…Saturday…Saturday!
Saturday…Saturday…Saturday!
Saturday Night, goodnight!
WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
For: Mr. John Heck
Dear John contest - Elton John (music)/Bernie Taupin (lyrics)
Sung to the tune of: Saturday Night's Alright For Fighting
At the cradle of my nightmares,
My future is a horror film,
I track my ghosts,
Like a junkie in withdrawal.
I am a true clandestine calamity,
A mass grave of silent suffering,
A candelabra of pain soothed by dirty money,
I hate the human race,
And I will never have a pet.
I am a loner addicted to silence.
I only write in the dark, to deathly sounds.
A mix of gloomy feelings,
I walk in the darkness of my imperfections,
My hands are no longer innocent,
Since I’ve handled weapons of war.
I am a child of the slums of the third world,
I know perfectly the orifices of misery.
Another damn sleepless night spent monologuing in the darkness of this cold room,
The devil covers his ears to the atrocities spilling from my confessions.
I’ve already used gunpowder
For a firework on the edge of legality.
I never agreed to sleep on an empty stomach,
I’ve risked my freedom since I was ten.
I’ve learned to walk among hungry beasts.
I’m already at war with my demons,
I know I’ll end up in the flames.
I know I have no right to trust a human being,
Being a slave to shine is impossible.
My enemies squat in my imperfect flesh.
I don’t smoke crack,
I don’t smoke cannabis,
I don’t snort cocaine,
I don’t drink alcohol,
I sometimes burn a few cigarettes.
I avoid psychotropics,
I’m not a poet,
Just a tormented mind,
Prisoner of infernal loops,
Where murder scenes repeat endlessly.
My tears stopped flowing down my cheeks
Since I saw my friend crushed by a logging truck.
I am an angry man with murderous impulses,
I commit suicide each time in this same nightmare that has repeated since my childhood.
I’m approaching fifty,
I’ve stopped meditating on the whims of the reaper,
I’ve stopped wandering in graveyards.
Let the universal force show mercy on my impure, tainted soul
By the poisons of lust,
I accumulate transgressions to have a throne in the furnaces of hell.
I don’t believe in paradise, but I know I’ll burn in the abyss’s celestial flames after my twilight.
A deep philosophical reflection in the ramblings of my delirium.
I hate the spotlights like those criminals on the run,
Too many regrets hidden in the closets,
A clean criminal record like the entrails of Christ’s mother.
I blaspheme to darken my divine fragment.
In Truth, He Lies, She Cries
"Kevin"
Drug buy,
for one it went good.
Drug buy,
for one it went bad.
You see Kevin,
wore high heeled sneakers.
You see Kevin,
was his junkies' keeper.
But one day;
the junkie didn't have it,
so Kevin didn't give it,
but the junkie had to have it,
but Kevin didn't get it.
So when his beeper beeped beeped,
the Junkie popped popped.
And when his beeper beeped beeped.
his heart beat beat,
"Stopped."
______________________________________________________________
“Kevin’s Funeral”
In Truth, He Lies
Preacher screams,
"He's goin’ to heaven",,
Kendra cries,
"Wake up Kevin",,
Momma sighs,
"Baby, don't cry",,
Grandma weeps,
"Kevin's asleep",,
Grandpa states,
"Resting his eyes",,
But when Momma screams,
"wake up Kevin",,
Grandpa weeps,
and then we all cry,
But to me,
It don't matter none.
Whether Kevin's in Hell,
for what he's done.
But the truth is,
Kevin lies.
In that casket,
before my eyes,
And the coffin keeps,
such still remains.
But will the coffin keep,
what still remains?
______________________________________________________________
Kendra’s Cries
(Kevin’s Baby Sister)
Is Kevin destined,
To rest in sleep?
Or Kevin alive,
When Kendra weeps?
Drive down Main st.
At the stop light,
Stop! Then go right.
"Right?"
Right!
Onto Grief St.
"Onto where?"
Onto Grief St.
Drive down Grief St.
At the stop sign.
Stop! Then stare right.
"Right?"
Right!
Into Kendra,
"Into where?"
Into Kendra.
Her Kneeees,
Grounded on the concrete.
Her eyeees,
Focused on the concrete.
Her tearrrs,
Falling on that chalk line.
Her hearrrt,
Broken by his outline,
Kevin!
Butttt,
Put the pedal to the medal,
Try to say "See ya",
Go from zero to sixty;
But I'll still see ya.
Cuz I'm always there,
When Kendra cries.
Cuzzzz,
Some walls got ears,
But mine's got eyes…
___________________________________
Kendra’s Eyes On the Wall {Limerick}
Eye once had a brother named Kevin,
Who got shot and went up to heaven,
He left home one day
And got blown away.
So Eye don't see him no more.
NoelsArt
Comments: Above is a poem about Kevin, a drug dealer. Added this week a poem about Kevin’s sister, Kendra. FEEDBACK WELCOME