Addiction poems have been a favourite topic of poets. Too much passion, love, fascination, desperation often leads to addiction and time and again poets have dealt with this topic with such brilliance it floats between being a virtue and a vice. Explore this wonderful collection of poems about different types of addictions and their impact, be it physical or emotional. Some poems are written from the perspective of the addict while others are written by those who are close to them. Each poem on addiction encompasses a phase of life in itself.
With precision we have destroyed Particles of ourselves impossible to recover With fate and lives we toyed And our bodies, souls smothered Families, relationships distraught Was something experience should have taught Yet with logic we always belie That on our
I know,I just know… ..If I abuse I will be gone gone gone gone. More than a junkie, you can’t see it. I crave worse than narcotics. (I would trade this for being an alcoholic) Tragic? yeah it is tragic.
What human values have we today, Than just seeking a helluva lot of Happiness for the notifications When the virtual defeats reality Am I too in same cage? To forget my Man and Sons and Daughters And care about gadgets
All alone sitting on the edge of my bed My hands covering my face A moment when I silently pray to be invisible Moment when I feel like crying… Not many, but yes there are few such moments Appearing in
Love is a nicotine, hurts but, it’s mine. The angry pulse feels like a needle tussle, ain’t no relief, drunk in your memory old monk. Blood rushing in cold, as the moment unfolds, Mind, all numb, noise of the silent
Numb at noon and thoughts adrift He takes another sip The turmoil in his head, confused A twitch..and then a clumsy shift A snap of fingers, “Another please” His bloodshot eyes seem lost Fumbling for his change, he finds A
He knows the place Its depths, its visions, its dark illusions And the face in the mirror Opaque with age The wispy beard now snowy white Clouds snag on the mountain peaks Fingers of rain stroke the earth Tracing their
They came tired and torn, weary and worn They came male and female, straight and gay They came high and hooked, homeless and hungry They came addicted to alcohol, drugs, and crime They came for one last try, for freedom
‘Twas the month before Christmas, I was feeling quite pleased 16 days since I smoked, 16 days since I wheezed The ashtrays were stashed, my lighter long gone The cravings more tolerable, not nearly as strong I reminded myself. “don’t
Her favorite French word despite She hated the devices themselves Gutless spiders, she’d say, all legs Appetites for unwary heads, lop them off. As a compromise she didn’t own any hats Just a few holdover rain bonnets A pair of
Pharmacist’s pantry or landlord’s larder, choices aplenty for a mind so disposed. Maximum dosage to test the boundaries, roulette wheel silently spinning. Senses slither away like an exposed serpent, seeking the shapelessness of the shadows. The comforting numbness of certain
You’re my personal brand of cocaine, surely you should suppress the suffering and numb the pain. My rose petal lips are engulfed in your kiss of death. I worship at your feet, when I have you, who really needs meth?
I need Any need to stitch an acid, bare designed, in endoplasm, when moon was walking like a full-breasted bride? The synthetic feat was neat and clinical, yet I want to turn back and talk about something which heals the
Thinking, contemplating my current situation. Scared. The lights of the city are turning down. From this view I can see everything. I’m watching her come down for the night. Helping me to not come down alone. Slowly, dying together. From
I’ve blown some rocks and now I’m chillin’, An’ around my head my thoughts are swillin’, It’s a warmin’ cool without a doubt, So good when lighten’d up an’ mellow’d out. In dear drugs I find solace, not cheap friends!
A spoonful of sugar melts into his tea And how perfectly made they are My nurturing soul is utterly satisfied While his lungs let go of the tar “If that balloon pops, I shall cry I already feel just like
One womb Snip it One shame Snip it away Umbilical residue Stains the birth Of a sinister soul That won’t be tamed His tears of hunger Venomous Burn his mother’s skin The incipient evil Amplifies and flourishes Having inherited it
You tried to drop by yesterday, So sorry I wan’t home, You left a note so you could say, I don’t have to feel all alone. I have to admit it’s probably true, Nobody understands, Nobody “gets” me like you
Our conversations are like kisses to me. Your mouth opens and closes in tandem with mine as we share emotions and intimacies, translating incomprehensible feelings from the hearts of our hearts. I feel you more in your absence than I
Love, what a beautiful addiction. Drug, with no prescription. Throughout life it is used, limits easily abused. Aroma, oh so sweet. Looks, sometimes a cheat. Yet, we take what we can get. Our greatest asset. With drugs come side effects:
Drowning in glass and aluminum Seduced by a sadistic lover A nickel for your thoughts And a penny for another Self worth turns to self pity As the shimmering facade is drained Expressions once so full of life Have become
(1) A cigarette is a green tale inside a white coffin; Her shoe is a hat, its end a line of smoke. (2) A cigarette is milk falling from breasts; Mouths are swings hanged on Oedipus complex. (3) A cigar