Short Opiate Poems

I covet to seize
An iridescent opiate
Waltzing within yonder canyons...

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Marine blue smokey eyes.
Encompassing smile.
Liberterian of the inner voice.
Opiate for my azure soul.
Delightfully deranged.
Youthful in mind and spirit....

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You rain upon my senses.
Your ruby-dark triangle
an opiate of drenched blooms.

Lost now
in a blood-warm memory,
saturated
by your ghost.

I turn my sightless face
to a blank wall....

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Artistry seeps ripe

Bearing pine

An opiate gem


A seasoned refrain

Sound evolves

E-sugar delight


Quite a lovely flare

A scarce gift

7th world pixels


Mementos I chase

Span a void

Download...

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Give me Pills to cure my Ills,
As ev'ry ache I contemplate
Drug me 'til my pleasure spills
When I'm over-dosed on Fate
Barbiturates, my Conscious lit-
Valium in my Mind to split
Round and round 'til Peace is found
Inside an Opiate...

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A golden fortune
lingers along the patterns
of my palm; a opiate suave
the mere touch; a picturesque
symbolic of greed and dishonor
thousands of lips taste
swiped corporate rhinestones

By Glenn McCrary

© 2012 Glenn McCrary (All rights reserved)...

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AS I WALKED.

As I walked through
The wilderness of the world
There were voices under the sea
Trying to dig through the earth
The dirt opiate on the shores
Where mud smeared broken nails
Crying out to the wilderness
Where the poet walked alone....

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Although brandishing clandestine discoveries
everyone figured geographically
how intertwined 
Jeremiah Kline
lived 'mongst native 
opiate producers.
Queer results 
speculatively tarnished understanding,
validifying worshiper, 
Xavier Young ~ Zealot...

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Take my heart and take my pain
Leave me with the opiate of blame
I've suffered the consequences of love
And now I must rise above
Lock the door and throw away the key
I've suffered enough since you left me
Bind my wrists and cover my eyes
I'm sick and tired of your spiteful lies...

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~

soft
petals
of warm skin
I taste their tang
sour.

your
nectar
like honey
my opiate
sweet.

~




~ 3rd Place ~  in the "Light Up The Page" Poetry Contest, Joseph May, Judge & Sponsor.

(Syllables counted at HowManySyllables.com)...

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Opiate of delusion…

Tempted by the flesh again,
Insanity, on mind descends,
Fools are made, where love transcends,
Opiate of delusion,
Give your heart, your very soul,
Estatic  mindset,  does take hold,
Another’s heart, yet you control,
Opiate of illusion…

Don Johnson...

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Waking up,
Never asleep to begin with-
Rather hazy daze,
You could see the clouds in my veins,
When I woke up-
Vomiting morsels,
I came to the idea,
Perhaps a thought,
Though these things passed,
I found a way to free myself,
From the liquid opiate world where I had vanished to....

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This is a poetic response to Colin Mitchell Williams's poem, Broken Back.

The opiate for the 
Mass.

A promised rebirth
Sapped the
Life
Breath
From
Beggars and Kings alike.

She died once again
And will
Continue
Dying

Death
No fiend

Romanticism,
Ibuprofen for
Broken
Backs...

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Daniel’s Song
Tears shed for
A life cut short
A beautiful child
Who was loved
By
Many
But
Confusion set in
And pain reigned long
We loved you in spite
When hope seemed lost
You were stilled loved
[This poem is dedicated to those suffering from Opiate addiction and their friends and families]...

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I use make-believe
overwriting memory
to bring me some peace

The fiction I’ve weaved
you’re at the store - you wouldn’t leave
is a fool’s relief

So I take mine neat
sweet opiate of self-deceit
my strange trick or treat


*a play, in 3 Senryus*

.
.
.
ps, I write short stories too...

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Sheltered beneath her veil of tears,
Amsterdam calls to my heart.
She follows me
through golden dreams and opiate sleep
to tempt me away from the true path in.
She is the wind on the water
filling my sails
with a quiver as soft as a sigh.
For no words
were ever quite so breathless
as Dutch whispers at midnight....

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ST*RBUCKS

Steaming extremes
Flowing vain brains

Coercing candid collaborates

  Outrageous opiate orders

    Foamfaced flavour floating

      Failfaded fortune faking

        Endless empty entities

          Erasing epic eulogies



Steaming extremes
Bursting brain veins


© Kim van Breda—16 November 2015...

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You return in sequences;
peripheral memories nod
like wire-sprung dipping birds.

Your ruby-dark triangle
the V of your asking,
an opiate of drenched blooms.

I am reprising scenes
cut from any official showing.

Senses lost in a long darkened cinema,
and I cannot make it back
until unscented by your ghost.

Scenes whir on
under closed eyes....

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The bottles of gin are all empty,
The pipes have long since been lit:
Where is the Lethean water that can truly make me forget?
Where is the perfect opiate that can stem the tide of regret?

You were the colour in autumn, 
You were the light in the lamp-
Your caravan moves on without me, taking the goods from the camp.
Now I am left here, forgotten: a gypsy, a wretch, a tramp....

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I cry for you with poppy tears,
My lover somniferum, sleep-bringing wonder,
Dreamer.
For the sweet, delirious Heaven
Of your pure, red rock heart,
And for the black tar incense of your opiate
Lips, laced with midnight oil.
You're the White Lady's gold dust;
My own brand of Mr. Blue.
Poppies will put you to sleep, like a seed,
You taste like addiction, drawn into me as indigo smoke.
I feed off the essence of you in my burning dreams....

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There is a thirst
of many days
restrained in our body,
chained words on lips of dreams...

I think of her
the smell of oak essence,
memories of magnolia,
the salty wind of the sea returns...

She says she will be here
in just a few days,
her presence floats for a moment,
I wrap my whole being anxiously!

At that moment of full sensation,
my hands are sunk in grapes,
and my body feels surrounded
by her loving arms...
~...

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I can see through my eyelids, lies
the color of indigo-
worn on the sleeves of the world.
And when they crawl through lips

I will know.

I can melt the world into ink
with heat-
from the sun that swallows indigo.

And we can either hold our breath,
or breathe the color of violet
like air.

The answer should be clear
as starlight
sprinkled over blackened sky.

And I-
am the opal moon,
emperor of peach strained dusk

You don't know what I can do....

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You are my sun. 
My every action gravitates, orbits, revolves around you. 
Pulling me closer and closer your rays of light are magnetic,
and I can't fight the temptation. 
I am blinded by what makes sense, 
hypnotized by the warmth so near, 
and deceived by the beautiful mask you wear. 
For what lays inside the golden yellow of your exterior silently waits to destruct, explode, and erase every memory of the entrancing star you used to be....

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You return in sequences;
as a bit-part in my movie.

Peripheral memories nod
like wire-sprung dipping birds.

Your golden triangle 
the V of your asking,
my mouth to lips intoxication
is an opiate of drenched blooms
that are still not dry. 

I am reprising scenes
cut from any official showing.

I live now in a distant camera lens
and cannot make it back
to those moments
nevertheless,
some scenes whir on
under tightly closed eyes....

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Heavy, golden days of August calling,
Wisper to my first age: a garth so sweet,
A blasted orchard with petals falling
to Earth corrupt, where dust and love may meet.
I stop there, in an endless summer's day,
Safe in Demeter's fruitless garden.

But I must remain in this siren's hell,
Shut up in Eden by Keats' lie.
This opiate past is Morgana's spell,
So etherised in a hollow I die,
Deceived and mad a Merlin base,
The idiot bastard of a shameless race....

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