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

My thoughts of which I let known Were nothing to me all left alone Some slipt away while others pondered In which mostly all were left squandered Or maybe it’s just a hobby of mine To throw a few words

The stains upon the bar tell of many sad tales of love, loss and tragic lives; and drink to drown out the wails. Another washed out soul seeks the solace of the glass, to wash away the memory of another

You make such lame excuses because you want what amuses hanging out with friends praising on what they find you promise to start life from a new page but like seasons it changes promises from your mouth continuously flow but

I dipped my hand within my soul To stir the ebon ink And placed a smear upon the scroll Where loathsome mem’ries sink And write the script of heart’s lament With words from blank abyss In colors mixed with aged

Like most men in the past, Death eludes my ample frame. Though he strikes up Fascinating conversations, Helping me soar to newer Flights of fantasy. Sometimes he watches me From across the table as I empty Satches of caramelised sugar

Poetry wound and a large schism starts an invasion. Numbness pours out. You become nobody; depart without a farewell. A crazy word is lost and a delirious search is initiated. Bit by bit coexistence is found between the sheets. Unwrap

Every morning The sun rises afresh, I forget why I was so sad The night before. Why there was so much Pain and blood And loneliness In the darkened Speckled night sky. Every morning In my bathroom A determined Toothbrush

What is it that speaks, before lips can say, Caress and feel, before the hands can touch, Stabs without daggers, without swords can slay, And betrays a love, that has grown so much? It bares the soul, and manifests sorrow,

If My Face Was Deformed, Would You Say, That I Was Ugly?  If I Was A Little Over Weight, Could You Still See My Beauty?  Does Beauty Have Anything To Do With My Complexion?  Can Beauty Get Me A Job,

Douglas the dog was a cute little chap with a nice blue collar and spots on his back, with his puppy dog eyes he would make you smile and give him a hug every once in a while. He was

Be with me in this zone of pain. My poems was walking through me. The flute I broke, in the river of silence. Someone was whispering to me in sleep. Why this desire of awakening in darkness, when light was

I had a dream once, One where I flung my arms back And felt a caress so tight. I couldn’t help but feel at home. A place I haven’t been in so long. Night comes as I close my eyes.

hear my manifesto, dear heart in meditation from late morning bleeding larded beads of sweat a recluse’s hideaway a mobile home sealed against weather drum tight baking in the Florida sun cross legged on the cheap rag mat so thoroughly

What would you name a relationship- Sans lust Sans sensuousness Yet so cherished that it leads to a big smile. What would you name a relationship- Illogical Unacceptable Still so desiring that it ignites the soul. What would you name

You start abbreviating the pretention, caring for the end of a perennial revenge – of slain truth, finding depth in arguments which will spawn more violence. Come my friend, come. Sit with me. Let us search together the solitary death

Instead of pain sublime in body of death and bracing a hailstorm of bullets you embrace a white phosphorus to burn for whole life, as a reminder of collective suicide. Like my lost children I am collecting the words to

The beauty of the world is captured in a glass bottle,all the good,the bad, and the ugly. On one side it storms and love is a lost art form shipwrecked on the coast of loneliness. It’s where guilty pleas are

I wish often, to be a free bird, And swoop along the far-flung skies, Flying high, cruising the worlds, Lavish with engaging exotic aria. Could I be perchance, that first rain, That creates emotions, so light, The earth enjoying the