Overdose Awareness Poems

I can’t see through every lie The only truth I know is dying Isn’t that a sad thing to say But anything is hard to believe When everything isn’t what it seems what I used to know doesn’t matter anymore

Abstraction has become a constant routine. Contemplating not knowing what to do or who to become, had became a life’s affair. Coming up with disparate possibilities on what to do in life, I came up with: Nothing. Nada. Zilch. Zippo.

In this timeless ethereality where silences build converted assonances and gravitational elapses, I breath your unspoken space within my pollinated reflections… Petalled essences of your insights swing the Eternity on the edge of my second… Echoed Time graciously bleeds rainbows

They are money hungry actors Greed has them all backwards They get richer every time your back hurts They are ruthless heartless bastards So they disregard all the hazards Gain money, power, and control is their mission In hopes that

To entice by charm – Princess Ana, My teenage beauty. Never meant harm – singing Hosanna, She really is a cutie. Both met in a church – In her fairness, I wished her for a mate. She was in search

The Sun on my hands a shaft of light from somewhere. I first felt the warmth then the heat, the hands perspire the ray lights up countless jewels Diamond crusted gloves on moulded clay. Hands caressed each other, for time’s

” If you wish to make an apple pie from scratch, you must first create the universe.” —Carl Sagan It’s all in there, waiting, just waiting in the time before time, the universe, our universe, packed unimaginably tight, indistinguishably tight,

This morning at the town square, little orphaned children gathered to listen to stories and lies left behind by last night’s lovers. On one of the benches by the fountain, one of the children, a little girl with a clogged

Atop our heads, we place a special hat, We pull it off and that’s where verse is found. We look to Sklyark’s flight if we fall flat, Then link our words to pictures that resound. The muses visit us and

Their fingers gently interlocking, each clasped the other’s hand. In silence whilst they slowly walked, on the soft, warm, evening sand. Just an occasional inquiring glance, into the other’s eyes. Spirits in a romantic waltz, such depth of feeling a

I fell asleep at the wheel of my life In somnolent slumber I slid Cruising on blindly my eyes off the road While I from reality hid Days had no meaning, events left no mark Each breath unconsciously taken Smiling

It’s the basics man Blue car with a spider lawyer Lights on a swimming pool at night She speaks French when she cheats Green chiffon ghetto lit with blow Orange face on a palm tree Have you quit looking for

It was that wicked drug, Not some contagious bug, That caused a goodbye without a hug. We certainly cried when you died, And our tears eventually just dried, Because your potential to shine was denied. Even though you are dead,

I write beautiful poems in my quiet times, Sign that the universe delivers in silence – Great inspirations about love and crimes – With a poetic virtuoso ,I build my intelligence- Which I use to extract imaginative awareness- For the

Shedding the wholeness of negation you arrive: fear was sweeping the floor when smoke screen of love was hung on blue morning, you groped for a hidden coin, lost in the woods of mania. Distinguishing a chaste word, without thought,

Words have power to light fires of passion in the soul, making unsaid words waltz in unison of the hearts. Words are breath of life, a narrow line between, the real and declared, within one’s awareness of subtle meanings. Words

Life’s daily cycles: Mind thinks, feels, dreams. Intellect reasons; Heart craves; The “I” deluded, thinks it acts, It enjoys, it suffers; Waking, dreaming, sleeping cycles. Each in Cycle their own, revel; In the dim background; The silent ever Wakeful Awareness,

An idea aroused again In the very hope to become li’l sane An idea has aroused again As a solution to this disordered mind or brain the plan is to write some rhyming line with figure of speeches just quite

Repentance of things past and presence, and anticipated misdoings shall be of utmost importance. I shall be more open and vulnerable, being more willing to “Be Wrong”. Evils that are both subtle and also blatant shall be exposed, fought against,

Let your voice be your chosen weapon. Not guns that cause destruction. Pursue objective through negotiations, Sorrow’s not a solution. Speak, do not become destructive. Stop destroying and burning buildings. Respect life; don’t take it from others. Drop your weapons;

The snow fell quietly on the little hill with the softness of swan feathers, blanketing the ground around the tiny log cabin. Wispy drifts cascaded down the roof and gathered around the windowsills as if to cradle the tiny abode

Whirling discus thrower controlled precision, spinning presence concentrated energy coiled awareness for that one release Watcher sees and knows at the moment of letting go this one will be good same dynamic for shot putter, javelin thrower conscious complex actions

A look past the glass I can see my past Now freed from the disbelieve One can start to relive Though what can I gain? Still I am in pain Maybe with just a wish I’d change my accomplished dish

I told-told you, I-I want y-you The sunshine blinded me but I thought an angel was talking to me So I started to, to stutter, because of your, your nice little voice And I didn’t care where I was, I

Sleep becomes an enemy, Sadness a close friend. Hiding pain so eagerly, Trying to see this till the end. Sorrow builds in her chest, Pain is left in her bed. Her nights so restless, Sad girl left for dead. What

I saw a hope, hope rising up in the air or was it a wish wish following someone’s prayer? I traced it to the point point till it disappeared pondered there for a while then another one appeared. I also

The Holy Bible so hard to understand but I hear people say that’s part of God’s Master plan. If you read and do what it say, it will bring the dawn of a brand new day. How do you read

We are all in a race, the race for being first, From childhood we have been told you have to come first or your life will be as meaningless as dust. People are struggling to be appreciated and be known,

It came without warning, no early whisper of fate Your body released you, there must be some mistake In the fury of loss, the mind and the heart are enemies Silent screams steer the wreckage on the forbidden quest for

Every brunt she has to bear. Every music she has to face. Learn to value the word ‘she’ my dear. Because she is the whole humanity’s base. She encapsulated you when you were a homogenised matter. She bore the dreadful

Tears, the salt of our soul, overflow Between life and death, recalling sweet Memories and dreams of the past, Flushing out from eyes, cleaning dejection And depression, to rejoice fulfillment, With battles, hazards and agony we had. Recalled my old

When a song for you sings my mouth why the stars start twinkling at night when cold waves blow from the south why the moon hug the stars very tight When I search you in the rock caves why candle

My memories have become nomads, And they come back all at once. Like strangers from myriad surreal lands, Or a thousand prodigal sons. How far from home, we have strayed mother! From that sunny dreaming hearth, So my memories seem

With fruits and flowers bound There stand the mighty trees Bent with the touch of nature And covered with the beauty of love As when upon a trance summer night You are seen as a green of peace Tall oaks

We always glorify the bygone days We refuse to believe the present is as beautiful and worthy as past We Live mostly in past and dream only of the future We tend to overlook the past sufferings and only remember

You are the fountainhead because when you speak, the river speaks and it delights us with its continuous whispers and it surprises us with its rapids: Acute, frequent, inherited from you You are the fountainhead Because you deliver the caresses

Life is so much like a ship in a stormy sea, Always dicey and hard. You have to become a smart sailor, In order to make your way through those thunderous yet subtle waves. It checks you time and again,

There’s a solemn ” Castle in the air” sometime.. Yes, sometime there is…. Phantasms of that vignette takes me to a chronicle of memories….. & it’s twinkling there like a shooting star.. Let me hallucinate with that dream again… Let

I sat at the table with rotted drawers scribbling the April green drawing spirals with a French curve when sunshine was there drawing straight angles with the set square because clouds were needed too I learned flowers’ shapes by heart

Last night in dreams , met me an angel . And asked what I wanted I said that three questions That always annoy my soul First , who am I and what is my identity Answered the Angel You are

Dog Soldiers of the secret Scottish regimen Go in op of your creatures that lurk in The shadows I know you’ve found more Monsters than the world knows and the Labyrinth of your coven remains legend Since many hundred years

my mind is going to blind But It still working till night No tension, no mention It is still can surprise you ee My mind is going to blind Whatever go over It don’t mention more It don’t think that

Up and down we go, Up and down we flow. Like cars on the main road, Racing through cross road. One is getting rich, another is becoming poor. Mr A is elected in, Mr B is elected out. Someone is