Syringes Poems

Echoes of a Silent Shore

Echoes of the Silent Shore

Garbage, raw sewage, needles,
syringes, food wrappers.
Plastic, cans, bottles, trash,
oily sand, old fishing line.

I stand on the shore and I see
waste and destruction everywhere.
If nothing is done, the only sound
will be the waves crashing into a
silent shore.

What's Cookin' in the Old Crone's Cauldron?

the old crone’s dome boiled
skull scalding, full of trouble and toil
oily face, razorburn neck 
my eyes the type to scan
salamander like
darting here to there
wondering where to next 
where to next?
I tire of the comfort in
mom’s crockpot, I'm hungry
for another bite of syringes
in the soil
slippery like a leech, i suck
blood because its richer than what
I'm loyal to
needlepoints outnumber the steps
I cant walk a mile in these shoes
another affair with the fairy dust
apothecary that swindles all
all i have left is the
nothing that i have to lose

The Recipe

menthol cigarettes / messy journals / propane torches / unfinished poems / 
                 broken promises / black bandana / clock rings /
thrift shops / candle wax / stolen books / peach nehi /
       poison ivy / nicotine gum / ripped overalls /
 leyland cypresses / junkyard blues / gutted cigarellos / abandoned houses /
             tin foil flowers / gatorade / starburst / diabetic insulin syringes /
toy boats / vix vapor rub / red nose pitbull / lemon balm / 
         cutflowers / river stones / wooden crosses / cluttered bookstores /
broken pocket watches / bad behavior / birdsong / bantam chickens /
          spare tires / cartoon band aids / unread voicemails / black ink /
ripped dollar bills / friendship bracelets / dirty laundry / vinyl / 
          chopped firewood / inferno / 70's model trucks / heart locket /
fave pen / soda slushies / free verse poetry / lana del rey / god jesus /

Bleak

It was one of those days again. 
A spoon full of syrup, 
Another needle, 
Sugary sweet. 
Crimson blood, 
White sheets. 
Repent your sins, 
Take a breath, 
For it may be your last. 
White walls, 
Bleach and latex gloves, 
“Stop shaking,” They say, 
“It’ll be over in a second.” 
No pain, 
Mindless abyss. 
Hospital gowns, 
Sweaty brows. 
Back stiff against the metal table.
Syringes full of my life. 
Drip, drip, drip. 
Just breathe, 
Take a breath. 
Discarded plastic cups, 
Fluttering papers held by the clamp of metal. 
The clicking of computer keys. 
Swallow, 
Choke, 
Eyes full of tears. 
Yes, 
It was indeed one of those days again.

Three Girl Bounty

Wishing for a woman or friend
To your corner room, alone, but then 
Creating sins not yet penned:
Infallible rules of fallible men.

For whereas Love seems so bubbly
And see through feelings easily crumbling 
Blanket you with insecurity tumbling
The reflection of a life lived humbly.

Writing your outline
Of perfection in flesh
Thrown back are your shoulders
In Confident judgement.
Less is more and more or less,
We long for a quiet,  petting caress.

Towering above, forever beaming
Swearing allegiance with justice gleaming 
Magnifies your drunken streaming
Until syringes of love start teeming. 

The ice-pick points to the one to blame
Dealing silently a Go Fish game,
For all is wild and none are tame
In the snapshot of when the Messiah came.

In future eternities all jousts find cadence,
Without lance or shield,
Without fits nor radiance,
We settle in for perfect maintenance.
We settle for perfect maintenance.

Anti-Poem Iphone Maniacs

iPhone Maniacs

crankshaft tendencies secure a brace of sly meatballs
truth daggers entice the worm girls with petite pastas
creature lilacs uproot themselves for pink dippity-do gels
white nylon ghost legs roam outer space in latex leotards
metacarpal syringes find porous outcries in the gloaming 
crankshaft tendencies welcome the tilted exonerations
iPhone maniacs fondle frothing bananas mindlessly now
demon spiders ooze inside the crawlspaces wanting meat
cross-eyed priestesses suck on wax candles in the vestibule 
black-robed choirs sing hangover music to the dribbling 
rock music annihilations played by stoned dudes in shades
temples and taverns shake as the truth daggers hit earth
now the worm girls are dancing with the iPhone maniacs

The Owl

A display of giant eyes
But rarely morning flights tries;
Unwanted publicity her grounds,
All CCTV out of bounds!

With ears for the faintest cough,
Their sound-grabbing devices tough,
Also for the aerial steps of wizards
And the dins of far-off blizzards.

Always privy to a discussed murder,
Aware of chose who‘d dared to go further;
None therefore to presume her an idler
Nor for that matter mere Nocturnal flyer;
Such to qualify her for claimed damages…
She really has been frustrating savages,
On roof tops leaking that a family needs
To steer clear of what Omen breeds.

Nicely keeping us out of harm’s way
And specifically from emergency sick bay
From Night Prowlers we never thought exist
And from diseases we aren’t sure we can resist.

The owl knows about a maturing home call,
About every ghastly accidental fall;
The septic syringes we do not deserve
And a misspending of our millions on reserve.

The owl with her translatable hoots
Ahead goes to unearth their roots.

Covid Sad, Covid Bad

It's a new day, a new Christmas eve party streaming live
 when Santa had to drink, Kahlua and cream, tequila to survive
to warm him up, have a little trust that the world is still alive
 as covid-19, coronavirus shiver, quiver all his vibes.

There's the tree, decorated with syringes and vaccines
 goodwill is sparing, feelings and emotions quite mean
but Washington is well and quite alive ringing the Wall street bells
 lying, deluded, and denying the party's really going quite well.

There are Mitch and Lindsay, Jim Jordan and Matt Gaetz
 waiting for the Donald, bowing is never too late, don't hesitate
to do the last tango in White House once hallowed halls, 
 whimpering and shouting, demanding for election recalls.

It's all  unfair, fake news they create to dispute the majority at will
 ready to secure their historic infamous places on the hill
and Santa (he doesn't really exist), don't resist
 as he slips in quiet, cautious as a mouse thru the house
 without a present for these lice, foolish integrity deprived louse.

They bully and they banter slipping in and out of reality and time
 not one Christmas gift beneath the tree will they find.

Miracle Workers

In the dank, dreary domain of leeches 
bloodsuckers swim willy-nilly,
hither and thither in the murk.
Aquatic bloodhounds
sniffing the water, they zero in on lunch,
a warm barefoot or a leg will do just fine.
Like vampire bats,
they numb their bite, so it's painless.
Both the stuff of nightmares
and a prayer come true,
you mustn't judge them harshly; they're most beneficial.
Why else would nature
create such a parasitic creature? 
No one relishes the task
when I ask for volunteers to catch wild leeches;
they all have feet of lead as I lead them to the pond.
My colleagues refer to them as squirming syringes.
And yet, these lowly critters are miracle workers
once you get past their slimy feel and swamp smell.
It takes but a second
for their minute teeth to cut into bruised flesh
helping to restore blood circulation.


(Free Verse)


Aug. 15, 2018

A Team of Doctors Entered My House

A team of doctors entered my house
each one with a syringe on his rear
not one was wearing doctor’s coat
the language they talked were strange

When they began their work by force
I told them I was healthy and strong
the leader shut my mouth with cloth
telling me I was unforgivable vector

They went on with their medical work
I could not figure out activities around me
where they took me was without consent
But I was somewhere among strange eyes

What I saw as syringes were not syringes
for my flesh was stamped with bruises
my eyes were big ripe tropical tomatoes
unfriendly arms chewed me as ritual beef

These doctors with issues in their bottoms
enjoyed parting me in turns to dis-infect me
Whether I was vector carrying fatal diseases 
stars in  heavens that witnessed has answer

The Balance, Dance and Lance of Innocence

Pillored and adulterated
Innocence flies away
Fearing to be underrated
In slimy circumstances for too long kept at bay

Until to her dismay
Innocence uncovers the mask
Behind facades that waylay
Every question innocence dares to ask

To establish the veracity
Banished so unfairly to confines
Where the truth plasticity
In the sand draws red lines

Challenging meninges
Whose yardsticks fall by the wayside
The day disturbances in sapience syringes
Opt to defend discredited personal pride.

Verisilimitude Vortex

Woven in a lava oven and driven into the pit of despondency
Where light at the end of a tunnel dims
Parents explode and implode as darkness swamps ascendancy
Leading parents to wonder if their children curse their dreams.

Challenges in meninges and syringes singe petrified parents
Whose aspirations and predictions that wayward children tear
Their world asunder in the midst of invectives, calumnies and taunts
Drive detractors to wonder why pusillanimous parents children bear.

Influenced, incensed and unbalanced in a variety of ways
Children’s personalities somersault and assault
Parents aspirations and predilections switching off rays
Teeming with hope in a satire scope to brush aside meek manners taught.

A shaft of light sometimes in parents’ shivering shrouds shines through
As parents from their uncomfortable cocoons debunk secrecy
In conversations with sent strangers to achieve a breakthrough
That restores hope, clarity and on their torture tom-tom sprinkles mercy.

Fringes of Soporific Syringes

Arrange to challenge fringes of soporific syringes
Range not to derange organized order
Singe not, whinge not on top of hinges
Binge not, cringe not and wreak not disorder.

Range not to derange organized order
Read but don’t misread signs of torrid times
Binge not, cringe not and wreak not disorder
Lest you should brood and groom uncomfortable climbs.

Read but don’t misread signs of torrid times
When the writing on your wall sends a meaningful message
Lest you should brood and groom uncomfortable climbs
As consequences in sequence prohibit your procrastination passage.

When the writing on your wall sends a meaningful message
Singe not, whinge not on top of hinges
As consequences in sequence prohibit your procrastination passage
Arrange to challenge fringes of soporific syringes.

Addicted

Laying before me, I have twenty two
lined up syringes consisting of you
Each vial holds a different piece of your soul
I'm missing a fragment so can't make you whole
The morsel that's missing, already injected
soothing withdrawls, my body infected
I promised I know, to try'n give you in
Some how I don't know where I should begin
I tilt my head sideways inspecting the goods
Savour the moment like true addicts should
The little glass cages, which to pick first?
To surfeit my hunger and quench my thirst
I want you to dance on the back of my tongue
Cascade inside me so we can be one
Hand to my mouth, I can't keep you steady
No turning back now, too late, are you ready?

The Crowd That Is Me - Mental Hospital 4

It is a strange inner world, if you live there alone. In me eight boys hide, a couple of villains, some discarded toys, screeching birds, and overall a host of an undefined kind.
This is an astonishing accomplishment, largely because I live in a small frame, all the same they fit in there, a strange affair, I admit.

The men in white, with their syringes an multi-coloured pills don't like this. Despite the fact that they are very rambunctious themselves - while doing their chores they slam doors, yell at people, laugh proud at their own jokes - they hate the silent noise of my inside crowd, while no one's loud!

The boring lives they live, they think it can give them the right to interfere, they're only satisied if no one's here but single me...
And so I swallow pills, yellow, white or even green, and in a wink of an eye they're gone, I blink.... poooooof.

If only they would have a pill that will erase annoying people that rule my life, Wouldn't that be great? No reason anymore to debate or argue, such peace... Can I have that today?

Please?

***

May 8, 2017 
Copyright © Darren White

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