Long Overdose Poems
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Fifth dose, same overdose
I've got a nasty habit of gorging on low hanging fruit
It's fruit, right? Gotta be sweet
But these grapes are sour and apples bitter
But a rotten orange is a delicious feast
For those starved of the taste and sensation of being full
Yet that same rotten orange
Cannot be a diet unto itself
Yet for eight long years
I've satisfied myself with rotten, sour fruit
After all, I am the Sun of this greenhouse
And skin cancer awaits all who bathe in the light for too long
It's never enough and can never be enough
So long as this cycle continues
Eventually, someone is going to overdose and die
And leave the entire farm with blood on its soil
These are my familiar trappings
An addiction to touch and the need to belong
And to shoulder the weight of two lives
And break beneath it, leaving us both hollow
I don't claim innocence
As I promise far too much for one human to deliver
Yet if given the chance to be excised safely
I'll bear my weight solo gladly
Some people are not meant to be united
My role is ever more abundant as the days bleed together
To deliver content and entertainment from behind the screen
As a benevolent God that cannot be met
Many tragedies are born from gods interfering with men
And thus, he hides in his Heaven where all can be alright
And as a frail man clinging to a title for power
So too shall I hide.
The 27 Club is but a myth.
A lot of pop rock stars die also young
and in their 20’s; by coincidence,
four biggies of the Woodstock Era died
just years within each other, and their age
just happened to be 27, so
because of tragic deaths, these are the ones:
Joplin, singer of “White blues” was lonely.
Guitarist Jimi Hendrix was too reckless -
like wild, brilliant Doors’ Jim Morrison
and Brian Jones, a singer with the Stones.
All four did drugs and did them foolishly!
Years later, Curt Cobain in ‘94
used drugs and shot himself. He happened to
be 27; thus the term was coined!
A final truly tragic figure joined
the 27 Club by overdose:
Singer Amy Winehouse, who like Joplin -
imprisoned by her image - was so lonely.
Though many famous actors and musicians
are listed in this legendary “club,”
the focus goes to six iconic figure.
The club should be renamed “The Tragic Six.”
*Note: I was reading the history of this club and some have suggested
that in reality, this club is mainly about the "tragic Six"
Sept. 17, 2022
For Anthony Biaanco's The 27 Club Poetry Contest
Drugs is part of our everyday life
Whether it cure our wife
Or give us the ability to strive
Children don't no good from bad
So they take drugs as a wild card
They smoke they drink they laugh they cough
Thinking its a new craft
Destroying they health
Striving for wealth
Drugs that will melt
Sometime it help
Curing the pain understanding the game time's its insane
Overdose to the brain
When you start its hard to contain
Running wild taking our life this is the youth in our era
We know its not good
Death would be for sure
Drugs that lead us to jail
Society is frail
Death to your parents in a mail
Once wired, now tired
Of the rummaging through
The barrage of promised threats
That have yet to come true
A pounding drum, inside my skull
Still refuses to relent
Overdose of legal remedies
Are sure to kill me, yet
I lie awake, most every night
Consumed by legal speed
But I'll never cope, without the hope
The very light that lets me see
Not more tough, no dose enough
The benzos soothe my shakes
Every month, my share goes up
I block out the toll it takes
To assume I don't care, would not be fair
I loathe who I've become
But the lack of tricks, to feed my fix
Keep me pleading for a crumb
One day we will be, forever silent.
Where would we be without poetry?
As a child, I buried my heart,
drained from games death would play -
in adulthood, it still refuses to resurface.
Grim Reaper hides in the corner of my eyes.
Is there such a thing as an overdose of sadness?
Because sometimes pain has no metaphor,
so we bleed the seeds of dormant blossoms.
I stare at a forgotten photograph,
at a boy I once knew from my past,
scruffy curly hair with tense, timid, tired eyes.
His life is a fuzzy blur, but I feel his misery.
Some memories are merely reflections,
some reminders, returning within season.
Unwanted souvenirs of how unfair life can be.
When skies are clouded like ashen smoke,
all I hear is untuned violin strings, screeching -
violent, like tangible bursts of thunder.
An orchestra of lightening forcing an
explosions of unerupted emotions.
Like pain placed in a paper bag,
scattered like a dead man's ashes.
I've come to terms with people
not seeing beyond the smile.
Still I search for love in freezing rain,
to prevent from numbing sensations.
In the darkness of death,
I still remember the white lights -
and my mother's rainbow love
maybe that's what saved me.
I realise the reality of adversity.
I'm an advocate of its lessons -
because, i'm a definition of each battle,
yet I know the war is far from over.
Poetry is the perfect way to release suppressed emotions.
My heart desires to beat like a flutist's musical notes -
like a kite floating higher and higher against brutal winds.
Silent One
4 December 2020
This is an example of my current contest called catharsis poetry.
I attempted to use poetry techniques like light alliteration and assonance.
In shadows deep, a tale unfolds,
Where innocence and darkness molds.
A daughter's heart, just ten years old,
In desperate worlds, her fate is told.
Her parents gripped by heroin's vice,
Their lives entwined in sacrifice.
She's thrust into a role untold,
Preparing poison, hearts growing cold.
As mother falls to overdose,
Her daughter's pain turns to feigned.
Imaginary friends her solace find,
Dolls become her guide to leave behind.
Reality and dreams thus entertwine,
A refuge from a life maligned.
In whispered voices her truth persists,
Through broken dolls,
reality such as this exists as she goes back and forth her world is this, she loves them both.
Mirror mirror on the wall
Would you still care if I break or fall ,
Would you still be there to console me through it all ?
After the drugs fade , memories take place and now it's hard too stand tall . I ran out of alchohol now I can hear your judgment pass through the empty hall ,
the pains getting deeper should I overdose on tylenol?
See I'd hang myself but I've already been hung up on the wall .
You stare at me you feel my pain but you never call , the stress is weighing on my brain , I'm done playing games , my soul full of pain but I'm just too weak to end it all !
Now mirror on the wall I see the cracks are they outside or within, are they both, which side am I living in? All u do is mock me you ain't my friend , forget you and your friendship this is the end . I got a bullet with your name on it , I may be too weak to end it all
but I can start by freeing the man who was hung up on the wall.
Form:
A war rages on, on two fronts,
three or more.
The world is a wave
crashing upon swords,
or so I am told.
Yet the tea in my teacup
does not tremble
to the thud and scream of shells,
my easy chair is not stained
with the flesh of the slain.
In the garden songbirds
do not shake with fear.
Headlines bellow.
People are marching
to God knows where,
a passionate ignorance
betraying their cause.
Those wars never draw near,
this talk of blood and death
seems but a talking point,
a furfure over spilled milk.
A rap singer dies of an overdose,
a beloved cat falls ill but recovers.
Fools are still fools.
The price of bacon is outrageous,
another Bachelorette's heart is broken,
yet her made-up face and life carry on.
Slippers still warm my feet
just the same as they always do.
So, what's new with you?
His hand is strafing the castellation on his trumpet, the valves moving up down up down like deranged pistons under the random machine gun fire of his fingers. Each note is a projectile that concusses the air, chases the one before it, nudges it from behind, bleeds into it, and is itself tailgated by the next one, all the way down the line in unrelenting succession, until all the distinct notes fuse, compacted into a single, furious, careening soundscape that leaves the ear always half a beat behind, struggling to catch up, out of breath, high on an overdose of heard adrenalin.
sounds supersonic
air graffitied with contrails of soaring notes
solo flight
Still they come, the notes, jostling and pouring from the bell of the trumpet glinting in the small cone of spotlight, the man’s puffed cheeks like a magician’s hat from which all kinds of disparate, crazy things - playing cards, rabbits, ribbons, doves - appear and instantly cohere into a hyperventilating sonic dream. You’re caught off guard by every note: you never heard it coming, then you hear it, and you’re snatched by it and all its brethren, and carried into the kinetic night.
ears beguiled
vibrations collide, collude, segue
harmony
I Quit
Pain hauls inside my heart.
My head feels like exploding,
So much self-hate eluding the little love I have.
Thought that I was finally in love and at rest,
But my heart was shredded into pieces.
Indeed love hurts, I feel unworthy of love,
Why do I always love the wrong people?
A question that I can not find answers to.
Maybe I should just take my life away,
Maybe there is more peace afterlife.
Tried to poison myself with alcohol but I failed,
My heart beats in reverse and all is misplaced.
I am in tears, tears not evident can't even imagine,
Lost in a place of anger and sorrow no one vision.
Such a sad world we live in, where love no longer matters.
Pain is growing inside of me, happiness has vanished.
Joy is what I hoped for but now I am torn apart in darkness.
I wish I could escape this pain but I can't do anything about it.
What if I was never meant to fall in love?, what if I am meant for tears?
Maybe an overdose would be a solution to the problem of my life,
Maybe what awaits me on the other side is much better,
Please understand why I did this, I am not selfish.
I just need peace and happiness, nothing here gives me that.
I am drowning in sorrows and tears that I can not hold back.
I am sorry but I quit.
I can not continue living like this,
I am sorry but the cruelty is too much for me.
Best I just quit and find the perfect place to be.
Please don't judge my action, be at peace.