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 have known you because of Time, and you leave me because of Time. Time wants me to forget you, but Time says ‘No’ because I do love you. Time gives me strength to endure the pain, and Time encourages

Before the lights go out And the world stops hearing music One last song, Let’s sing the blues away…. Before the day dims out And people stop believing in magic, One last picture, Let’s paint the pain away….. Before the

Poetic misfortune, justice, and timing, at times fall flat on their faces, The beautifully cruel climate of the world, at times, Stomps on the head of logic and then turns around, Only to error on the side of tenderness, Dust

’tis a playing field for many kinds out in the arena, to discern the companionship of the puissant sun ’tis a hot, new summer day , blithe and sound maketh thou run, run, run… syrupy voice of nightingale, fills candied

I’m sitting and looking at a door A simple door, that is closed I contemplate opening the door but I don’t think I can “Stop second guessing yourself” I say I stand up and take a step towards the door

A is an apple, shot off of your head B is for beets, they’ll turn your pee red Cantaloupe with ya, I’m too young to marry D is a date, with Tom, Dick or Harry Eggs if they’re large can

Oh My “I’M Turning FIFTY” I remember as if I was just a little girl and did not have a care in the world. I saw myself and said gee I cant wait to grow up! I went to middle

The space behind my lids is empty- A void that I wallow in, Till the dawn of a new day. Wrapped in my delirious loam of comfort, I tranquilly lay, Wafting in the highest of all heavens, Nothingness and escapism

Two souls come near Without feeling any fear Think about no other Including father and mother Sister and brother May often offer Little help In getting letters Replies are sent later Love game is in swing But it is in

When shoulders are in dearth whereby to cry, And frozen tears would stab with loneliness, A smile I dare that unto heaven try, For wish, my prayer speaks with holiness; The dirge that grieving lips would sadly sing, On hollow

So many nightmares too many nights where I’ve woken gasping grabbing at something anything to tether me to reality to prove I’m no longer dreaming knowing I’ll soon have to fall asleep again slipping back into the grasp of rapists,

There was a time where one once told me There’ll be moment when you’ll be who you’ll be I didn’t know it then but I know it now That sometimes you have to choose between the good and the bad

The wind’s whisper rejoices, The oceans roar with praise, The sun magnifies Your glory, And the earth below is filled with glad tidings. Before time even began, You would know me intimately, And yet, I cannot help but to still

She is Most Beautiful She is an Angel She is a Sweety She is Adorable She is Marvellous She is Stupendous She is tailor made for me I am lucky These are at “love” stage” She is Homely She is

Rain shattering, sunlight beaming capturing loneliness, wonders in the sea of tender love Close your eyes and think about the quiet moment and the quiet years. Pray for forgiveness Pray for strength, pray for love Pray for courage Awaken desire

Occupied prior to my existence, did not know my state of trance, inside the mother’s womb, the seedling was like a pulp, in just nine months it grew in shape, to be delivered to the world outside, floating inside the

Lips pursed like a camel readying to spit Eyes squared beneath a rippled brow and the words cartwheel out in a venomous stream clipped phrases of newly mown grass dismissive invective heaped atop shrugged shoulders in a pile of dead

Measuring mantra to the drops falling from tap a visitor to the abode of Khwaja suffers pushes from the crowd and yet remains thirsty: the Khadim promises prayers Gharib Nawaz feeds the soul he returns to the Sun City through