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A drink; a drink,
Another for me!
And one overboard
For the God of the sea!

A drink; a drink!
Another for me!
A vision of ***,
A truth for me!

A drink; a drink!
Once more for the gods!
O, safe keep our ship,
From the men of the odds!

A drink; a drink,
Poseidon, he falls!
Dionysus insists;
His brother; he calls!
A poem I wrote once while thinking about drinking on a fishing boat. When I get a chance, I like to go out on boats. Being broke as I am; that's rare. But still, there's something to sea out there... plus I love the old gods. Here's a drink in tribute for them all.
Kris Fireheart Nov 2019
When I retire,  often late at night,
When the drink and the smoke have awakened my sight,

I close my eyes, and clear my mind,
And just drift away,  leaving earth behind.
And as I pace,  in my silent room,
I journey far beyond the moon.

I see all the stars,  and I've given them names,
And imagine that somehow I'll get there one day.

And then it appears, a desert so deep,
Two suns shine upon me; the sand burns my feet.
This place is familiar; I've been here before.
The sand,  a deep scarlet,  the color of war.

And as I go deeper,  my room disappears.
My eyes are still closed, but somehow I hear.
The voices are faint,  but I follow the sound.

And watch in awe as it rises from the ground.
A city of sand,  of steel,  and stone.
I stand at the gates of a city I've known.
Surrounded by peoples so unlike our own.

A figure approaches,  in patched leather clothes,
Red scales,  and a dragon- like snout for a nose.
He flashes a smile,  his fangs are all stained.

He says "I'd always wondered if we'd meet again. "
He extended an arm and clasped onto my own,
And said,  "it's good to see you home. "
A recurring dream slash fantasy I have often while getting lost in MY head.
Kris Fireheart Feb 2018
It's Friday night,
And it's almost ten,
So I've hit the ***** streets,
To meet with some friends.

I've left my car keys,
"Forgotten" my wallet,
And taken the Metro
To where Main Street begins.

I found them at "Deans,"
Up a floor and a half,
Smoking some Black Magic
In the elevator shaft.

My new best friend
Is about to perform,
But He's got stage fright,
As such is the norm,

On a Friday night,
On Main Street...

Before they start playing,
They take one last drink,
Then the music begins,
Before I can think.

When it's over,  they're happy,
It was a nice crowd,
But now it's time to pack up,
And get the hell out.

So we left their guitars
In the bass player's car.
To go for a walk,
But we won't get too far,
Until we see shadows
And signs of life,

On a Friday night,
On Main Street...

They tilt from the corners,
And lean on the walls,
Their palms are held open,
Their gaze always falls.

They ask for a dollar,
Or something at all,
A smoke or a drink,
A simple phone call.

On Fridays like this,
I so often give thought,
To those unfortunate souls
Our "fair" city forgot,

In this land of  the plenty,
They have nothing at all;
Just a lonely spot,

On Main Street...
I wrote this after meeting some friends including my then fiance,  downtown for a show. The stark contrast between the cheerful partygoers of a Friday night,  coupled with the desperation and poverty within the inner city is often quite striking.
There's an emotion,
It's deep inside;
I think it's buried
Somewhere I can hide.

For plenty of action,
There's no satisfaction;
No want, nor a prayer
Has brought me inaction;

Still I fill my cup,
And I drink from it deeply,
For nothing but sleep
And a fragile peace keep me,

From doing the things that
I see in my dreams;
Acknowledging that
I'm the monster I seem;

With a shrug of a shoulder,
I'll say that it's over,
I'll tell myself I can lament
In a dream,

Yet something so violent,
As real as it seems,
Leaves me with a silence
As I intervene...
I am not a good man.  Let's start with that.  I also have a lot of prophetic dreams. It apparently runs in my family; my great- uncle,  my grandma's younger brother, is an actual Buddha. My great-grandfather apparently was beaten with a broom by his wife for telling her that my grandmother was going to be the first of our family to leave Vietnam during the war.  I've written about these kinda of dreams before; but now I'm just gonna say ***** it and go personal. This is what I do to deal with mine.
Kris Fireheart Dec 2019
I woke up this morning,
My body so cold,
Not even blankets
Could warm me.

But I had to rise,  and
Somehow I know,
A day of sadness
Is upon me...

To think of my life
At seven A.M.,
Emotions so endless,
I don't think I can,

I've lived my whole life
With invisible bars,
My cage is my own,
My rage is the cause.

My one only secret
Is doubt and depression,
Twin shadows who
Follow at my heels.

But I still feel lucky,
Since I have my friends,
And they understand
How it feels.

As I swallow my coffee,
And breakfast of pills,
The weariness
starts to fade.

And now I am ready,
For frustration and ills,
As I don my black leather,
And pocket those pills

No matter what happens,
I'll be there,  and chill,
For life is a river,
Which flows where it will...
I hate waking up at 6. This is the routine which gets me through it all.
Kris Fireheart Aug 2023
Another Anniversary,
Where I find myself
Alone...

I think upon the memories
We shared when we
Were one...

A once important part of me,
I lost when you
were gone...

Another anniversary,
I dream I'm in
Your arms...

To turn the clock
Reversible,
To feel that touch again...

A love I won't allow
To leave,
I'm yours until the end....

I curl up and I
Try to sleep,
Upon my empty bed...

I cry and grasp upon
The key,
And hear the words you said...

"I know our life isn't the best,
But you're the one for me.
And one day when We've
Gotten free "

"I'll buy you a ring..."
Today is the day I met my departed fiancé, Chucky,  who died of a ****** overdose on October 16, 2013. We both took a shot, but i woke up and he didn't... So tonight is for drinking, tonight is for thinking, and remembering how we lived and loved.  "We're so free, you and me... We even share the stars..." -- Chucky  Mallon, August 12, 2010, Eleanor Tinsley park, on the hillside. I remember and I miss you.
Kris Fireheart Feb 2018
This morning I woke up and reached
for the knife,
Cause I thought for a second of ending
my life,
Then I took one more minute
and thought about them
My Father, my mother,  my family
and friends.
That **** you come up with real deep
in your head
On those mornings you wake up
and wish you were dead.
I said "**** it"and reached for
My whiskey instead,
Took a shot, Lit my Cigarette,
and
hopped out of bed.
I'm pretty depressed this morning,  so I took to pen and paper when i woke up.
Kris Fireheart Jun 2020
It's been the longest time,
Since I've felt this alive.
So many years gone by
Since I've seen all these guys.

But on this day,  I rise,
When I was granted life,
To find my eyes surprised
By all their smiles and cries!

"Hey, happy birthday man! "
"It's been a long-*** time! "
"We planned ahead, and decided
To grab some whiskey and wine! "

And that was all it took,
To get it through my head,
That when this night was over
We'd likely do it again.

See, I'm a man with good friends,
I have a thirst I must quench,
And when Bacchus calls for me,
I always let the games begin!

And once these parties start,
They rarely, if ever, end.
And when the bottles do run dry,
Someone carries some more in.

"And every glass I take,  I do it not for me;"

"It's for His Majesty!"
"It's for His Majesty!"

Now it's the third warm night
And all the wine is gone,
The whiskey comes along,
And they break out in song:

"Another cup for mine!"
"Another night survived!"

"It's for His Majesty!"
"It's for His Majesty!
My birthday parties can get a bit long and wild.  I turned 30 June 2. Yay me... bah,I'm so old...
Kris Fireheart Dec 2019
I've felt the cold,
Of winter midnights.
The things you see,
Upon the streets.

I've lived through guns,
So many fistfights,
And all the things
They did to me...

It ain't the same,
Every morning...
Somebody new
Wakes up as me...

And I don't know,
Just where I'm going...
All I know,
Is that I'm free!

There are no chains!
Upon me!
There are no chains!
Upon me!

Well, I can see,
The stars now,
And I know what lies
Beyond...

Cause only glory
Waits for me there,
And all the things,
Of which I'm fond...

Another glass you
Raise to me!
For when I'm dead,
And when I'm gone...

But you remember
What I say,  now!
Cause we'll be friends
Long when we're gone...

And I can see it...
That gray day.
And I can smell it!
That horrible rain!
But I don't feel it...
There's no more pain.

And nothing,
Will ever be the same...
A bluesy freestyle I recorded  the other night.
Kris Fireheart Feb 2019
I still remember,
That special first time.
I was young, and
IMMORTAL.
I wanted to FIND.

I wanted to FEEL it,
That FREEDOM of mind,
Where PEACE and SERENITY
Leave troubles
Behind.

At first I felt nothing,
No SHOCK or REVEAL .
I asked my best friend;
He swore it was
REAL.

But then, a tingle.
A SMILE; a LAUGH!
My mind filled with
MEMORIES, thoughts
Of the past.

I couldn't believe it;
So much; so fast!
No longer depressed,
I rose from the grass.  

I felt like a scholar,
Or philosopher of old.
I walked to our table
To tell what it showed.

Of course, they were laughing,
But I didn't mind,
I knew what I'd FOUND.
I'd seen the DIVINE.
This is a quick one about my love of cannabis. Enjoy
Kris Fireheart Apr 2023
Can you feel
The way I feel
When I think of you?
Or is it a feeling
That leaves us both
Reeling
When I'm apart from
You?
I wonder if my friends and lovers feel the same way that I do when we're apart...
Kris Fireheart Feb 2018
A feeling.
A burst of light.
A desperation.
A cry for help.
A hint of joy.
A ray of hope.
A sadness...

Haggard men in tattered clothing
On the concrete sandbars
Of the great black stone
Rivers.
Thirsty.  Starving.
"Thank you and God bless!"

Can you help me?
Do you care?

Pastor sits in his wooden box.
On your knees in your
Private prison.
Pass the collection plate.
Glory,  hallelujah!

Can you help me?
Do you care?

High school kids shoot ******.
One long row of
Slack bodies.
Deep nods.
Where am I? What am I doing here?

Can you help me?
Do you care?

A new government,  built on
Bad decisions.
For the money,  of the moneyed.
Blinding white hair,  trading blood
For precious oil...
"We, the people of the United States..."

Can you help me?
Do you care?

A sadness.
A desperation.
A cry for help.
A burst of light.  
A hint of joy.
A ray of hope.
A feeling...
I don't remember exactly when i wrote this one.  Sometime last year.
Kris Fireheart Feb 2018
Straight from my hands to my nose.
Numb from my head to my toes.

Take a deep breath,  'cause its not
Over yet,
When your heart starts to pound and your head starts to sweat.

The denominations of your conversations,
They turn to elation and full demonstration,
It rings in your head like a radio station,
This rushed and egregious euphoric sensation,
This white lubrication for socialization,

This is what I call *******.
One of my inspired ******* moments from my early college years. I did every drug in the book before I turned 25. I wanted to "feel" it all... Three years of ****** addiction later,  I finally started to realize that maybe that was a BAD idea...
Kris Fireheart Apr 2020
As I walk in the sunset,
Through silent, empty streets.
They peer through their
Windows.

People are afraid of me.

The virus has arrived
This newest of disease,
And with it comes the worst
Of humanity.

"Stay away from him.
He's Asian. They have
That coronavirus."

First off, I'm American.
I have to live here, too.
And yes, I'm scared,  I am.

I swear,  I'm just like you.

But don't look at me different.
Don't walk across the street.
Don't lift up your collar or
Tighten your mask
When I smile and wave to greet.

I am human. Not a monster.
I am not your disease.
Don't blame me for the mistakes
Of man.
I'm just trying to be me.

I just want to believe...
Coronavirus has brought out racism against asians in a way that I haven't seen in years. I wrote this to address that. Please support this poem and spread the word about this silent cruelty.
Kris Fireheart Aug 2023
I spent another evening
In one corner of
My mind...

My conscience is
Left bleeding,
And I don't know what I'll find...

My future hangs in balance,
I'm too nervous
To sleep,

But still I keep my chalice,
I fill it and
I drink...

The courthouse is
A palace,
Of justice and of
Peace,

But when I walk inside it
I shake from head
To feet...

I beg the gods I
Don't believe
To grant me just
Some peace...

Please let me enter
Into hell
And walk out
On two feet...

Oh, let me enter into hell
And walk out
On two feet...
I'm going to court tomorrow for my first felony charge (yay) let's hope my lawyer does this job and I walk out of there free. I always get the shakes when I have to go to court; thank gods Xanax exists...
Kris Fireheart Oct 2018
This mournful sky,
An endless grey.
Mother nature knows how I feel today...
My kindest friend
Has passed away...

His gentle smile,
The largest heart.
It's hard to believe you're a world apart...
What I would give,
If you could stay...

But what to do?
What can I say?
Every time we met, you'd always brighten my day.
We'd laugh and cry,
We'd drink and play...

With shining eyes,
You'd be my guide,
A part of me was lost on the day you died...
I hope, in sleep,
You find some peace...

The nicest man
I've ever known,
Taken too soon from a love- filled home,
The prime of life
Before your eyes...

But one day,
We'll meet again.
We'll share a drink and reminisce,  two best friends.
I'll see you there,
At heaven's end....

There has to be,
A place to see,
Somewhere they take in people even like you and me,
To keep us safe,
And set us free...

But just tonight,
I think i'll cry.
I'll say a little prayer and I'll whisper goodbye,
To a gentle man,
A friend of mine...
This poem is dedicated to the memory of my friend David, who passed from this world last Saturday.  I'll be missing you, big guy.  You have no idea...
Kris Fireheart Feb 2018
In dryest desert
Lay hidden jewels,
The monuments of days gone by,
Beneath the holy
Sands of Time,
Where altars to the Old Gods lie,

I found myself
Without my faith,
And could not pray, for I would die,
When I awoke,
Beneath the palms,
At the temple of the Ceruni.

To see their Gods,
Such power and fear!
For I've felt no presence as I have felt here,
So strong,  so pure,
So rich; Alive!
The Gods have felt so near this night.

I wandered in,
Through sacred gardens,
Which no other man had yet seemed defy,
And came upon her,
Her robes as the snow,
The Goddess of the Ceruni.

She beckoned me
From silvered dome,
Where she was seated,  upon silver throne,
I passed the great hemp
And red poppies which shone,
To lay my eyes upon her.

"O Dear Goddess," did i cry,
"Have the heart to tell me why,
When I have spent my days and nights,
Not quite dead, Yet not alive,
Am I shrouded in your Holy Light? "

She gave no words,
But simply smiled,
I, gripped by silence all the while,
Could find no speech
Nor pause for thought,
As she whispered lessons which one time, were taught.

You may think me mad;
I swear I am not!
I'll point out the towers if we find the spot,
Such silver and gold,
Such wonderful shine!
To be in a place where the Gods would recline.

I've witnessed the spires
Of fallen empires,
So proudly they stand in desert dry!
But I've no recollection,
Upon sudden reflection,
Of where the Holy Temple lies.

But when I die,
O, take me there!
Where hemp and poppy kiss the sky!
And on my slate,
Let them write,
"Here lies the last of the Ceruni!"
I love Samuel Taylor Coleridge, and I've always thought about experimenting with the extremely visual and often ***** tinted Romantic style.  I think it came out pretty well. After all,  I DO know my subject quite intimately.
Kris Fireheart Mar 2018
A shadow rises in the morning,
A sudden darkness through the trees.
The sun is shining through the doorway,
The spirits whisper on the breeze.

I found myself a lonely island,
A place, I felt,  I'd find some peace,
I missed the cliff as I was driving,
Missed the warm rush of the sea.

Another night on my horizon,
I stole a candle for some light,
I'd never thought much of surviving,
But I feel sure it'll be alright.

The lizard greets me in the morning,
The scaly messengers of kings.
And life is anything but boring,
when all that's left is empty streets.

The bells are calling them to mourning,
The ones who march in silent sleep.
A field of poppies beckons for me;
A shallow grave but three feet deep.
I wrote this poem to a friend of mine doing time in prison.  He said he wanted something he could "see"and "feel."
Kris Fireheart Mar 2018
It's three A.M.,
I'm still awake...
Everybody's calling, but it's way too late.
So I decide,
to take a ride...

A hanging fog,
no license plates,
I don't know where to go, but I can find a better place.
I'll  park my car,
inside this haze...

Faded...
Faded...
I know I'm gonna find no peace tonight!
Just make a plan,
to stay awake...

And I'll be fine,
if I can find,
Another way to live without another white line,
without *******,
or Dexedrine...

With how I feel,
I need some pills,
I'll stimulate my brain,  hopping on the 'D' train,
And we can ride
And see the sky...

It's six A.M.,
I'm still awake,
Everybody's still calling, for Christ's sake!
But I don't care,
And I'll be there...

I've stayed alive,
since Friday night,
The week has only started but I know I'll survive,
This isn't much,
It's just enough...

Faded...
Faded...
Just another day when I can ride or die!
Just watch the sky
And nevermind...
this is what pulling all nighters really is like. kinda stressful, kinda stimulating,  never boring.  ever.
Kris Fireheart Feb 2018
The mind is a trap house,
With too many rooms,
And infinite closets,
Which hide
The secret skeletons.
Ten thousand white doors,
Which lead only
To darkness,
And so many
Crusted windows
Where shadows
Shine brightly.
Part of my short "feeling"series.
Kris Fireheart Feb 2018
Rain...
From her perch
Above the sky
Our Mother Earth
Feeds her children.
And with her
Rain,
She watches us
Grow.
Our large and
Colorful
Family.
Another one from my short "feeling"series.
Kris Fireheart Nov 2019
I'd been searching,
For my freedom...
Won't you come,
Upon a day?

Can you find me?
On the mountain,
Feel the wind,
Caress my skin...

Hear the whispers!
Upon the water...
Freedom flows
From her song...

No more masters...
No more chains.
No more darkness,
No more pain.

O, Freedom!
O, Freedom!
Won't you come...
Upon a day?

Hear the voices,
Rise above them,
They all have
Much to say!

O, Freedom!
O, Freedom!
Won't you come,
Upon a day...

Feel a tremble!
Down below you.
Have no fear,
Of what's to come...

Dream of starlight!
High above you...
We have come,
To take you Home...

O, Freedom!  
O, Freedom!
Won't you come,
Upon a day?

Revolution!
Revolution!
Can't you hear
The people say?
A poem on freedom, revolution and peace. One of my few personal drug free works. It can even be sung in a deep, slow,  sad-like way
Kris Fireheart Apr 2023
This morning
Is cold.
Shades of
Grey.

It gets better
I've been told,
Sun will shine
Today.
Sitting on my porch with my vape, waiting to go to work. The sky is Grey  but it's supposed to be Sunday.
Kris Fireheart Apr 2023
So many people walking by,
So dead,  but still alive.
They're all in a rush to
Get in line.
Familiar faces,  with their smiles
As blank as mine,
Open eyes and empty minds...

Stuck in their patterns,  day and night,
With no release in sight,
They live and die inside their hives...
From nine to five they keep their
Masters satisfied;
White collared slaves who don't realize...

They drown their pain in
Beer and wine,
Illusions of good times.
Just leave your hopes and dreams
Behind...

Check your emotions,
Leave your happy at the door.
Drowning depressions while they're lying on the floor.

I see the sadness in their eyes,
The truth behind their lies.
See, they can't laugh,  
and i can't cry...

They form the pieces of the same machine,  and I?
I'm standing by,  

Watching your world through

****** eyes...
This is actually an older poem that I once posted here, which somehow ended up deleted. It was written by me and my fiancé during the best and the worst times of our lives. I was a ****** addict for 3 years during college; we both were. After losing him to an overdose in 2013, I finally managed to get off the hard stuff. But still I miss him every day.
Kris Fireheart Feb 2018
She had everything she
needed,
To make most men fall.
Mindless zombies,
Men like me,  so oblivious
To it all.

Smelled her cooking,
So sick and
so sweet
A poison that's all her own.
****** swept her off
Her feet,
Now Holly
Wants to be alone.

She slithers down my street
At night,
A needle in her hand.
One more shot and ****** Holly
Fades to neverland...

In her eyes,  I see
Her past.
It's all so dark and sad.

Under her bruises,  I
Can see her light.
The only hope she
Has...
about a girl i used to know.  Sad story.
Kris Fireheart Dec 2019
It's Saturday night,
There's people out dancing.
There's people out drinking,
But here I am sitting
At home all alone.

Is that even right?
I mean,  what am I thinking,
Just sitting here and shrinking,
Not taking my eyes off
The screen of my phone?

My friends haven't called me,
To drag me to parties,  
Or some crazy dive bar,
With two dollar drinks.

It's these kinds of weekends
That make me feel sorry:
I guess I'm just too gone
To party with, me.

But sometimes I hear it,
A knock at my window,
And i know that they
haven't forgotten me.

My circle is precious,
So few and so little,
But my friends are all
I've got,  you see.

So when they bring me
Gifts of whiskey,
Beer and the joy of
Conversation,

I'm always the one to
Respond in kind
And usually with
Much stronger libations.
I'm lonely tonight.
Spent half my life immersed
In starlight...
Outside the windows
Of my room....

Was raised to think
Everything was alright...
But I found out the truth
Much too soon!

Oh,  howl, howl,
Howl at the moon!

Oh, watch the midnight
Blue,  and feel the
Lights surrounding you!
And never wonder if
You'll ever be afraid!

Oh, howl, howl,
Howl at the moon!

We find out our truths much too soon...

Oh, bring me a bottle ,
To bury my worries!
Oh, load me a pipe,

And I'll tell you a story.

A story, a story,
A terrible story,
My life for a story,
Of honor and glory.

Oh, howl, howl, howl,
At the moon!

Either drunk or
Hungover, or waking
Up Blue,

We'll fight till it's over,
Till battle is through;
Till we're beaten and Bloodied,

And covered in mud,

And we march home while
Weary, and spotted with
Blood.

Oh, howl, howl, howl,
At the moon!
A poem that I wrote for some friends of mine in Ukraine and Russia who don't want to fight, but are forced to.
They love the personification of the wolf, and so I made it my job to show people how they feel.
Kris Fireheart Nov 2018
I am broken;
A broken man.
Something important
Has died inside.

I swore to myself,
That I would never again
Lose control of my senses,
But now, here I am...

I drank so much liquor,
I poisoned myself.
And now, every day,  
I awaken to hell.

And one week later,
I thought I'd recovered,
But then came the pills,
And calls from my mother.

There's twenty-four hours,
In each of these days,
But for those lost moments,
I lived in a haze.

Too scared to seek sleep,
For the nightmares would come,
I wished to high hell
That I still owned a gun.

I opened my eyes
And a full day had passed.
The last I remember,
I'd fell to the grass.

The cop took some pity,
And instead of jail,
He took me to detox,
It didn't end well.

The sixty-four xanax
I swallowed that night,
Still give me the shakes
And I wake up in fright.

It may not have killed me,
But it might as well,
For someone so "blessed"
I feel broken as hell.

It's been two more days,
And I can't help but think
What may have happened
If I'd stepped to the brink...

No cliff is too high,
No bayou too small,
Even now, I imagine,
Of ending it all.

My friends have all left me,
There's scars on my hands.
It serves to remind me,
I am a broken man...
Sorrow, depression, overdose accidental arrest real regrets
Kris Fireheart Mar 2020
Ah, yeah, there it is...
It's been years; too long.
The memory has faded,
But the desire remains.

It's that feeling I've missed;
Such sweet, silent songs,
Such emotions debated,
No more clouds in my brain.

Just a painless, empty bliss.
I can smile, and fantasize,
And feel the warm sun's kiss
As I breathe and close my eyes.

Such a blanket never sewn,
Can bring me this warmth.
Confidence I've never known,
And some feeling of worth.

Finally,  I belong!
I'm here! Can you see me?
Nothing's wrong; not now,
I can just stand here, and BE.

Tonight, when they watch me,
Their eyes open in wonder,
I shall stand and deliver,
And quiver no more.

I am here.  I exist.
And I am not afraid.
A poem I've been waiting years to write. Today,  I deliver a presentation for my master's class. Wish me luck.
Kris Fireheart Feb 2018
Shiny shards of slowly death
Rush,  cough,  and take a breath..
Its all they can to re inject
Another night on Tina's breast.

I watch them from afar, disgusted
My two best friends went homeless,
Got busted.

See,  I might do some coke or smoke ***** all day,
But i can't understand this game they all play.

Always crystal or ***** or ****** or yay,
One more way to make my fiery heart fade.

But i told them i wasn't going back to those days,
I'll stick with my greenery, downers and stay...

Alive.
this is a drug poem. Everyone i know does ****, and I hate the changes i see in them.
I've grown up and out of hard drug use,  looking towards my future.  So many i know have not...
Kris Fireheart May 2020
Summer is here...

But I can't feel it.

The sun is shining...

But it's not real.

There's something broken,

Inside my heart.

It began with the words

"Be together apart. "

Locked in my room,

I can't take this pain!

But I will endure. For my strength remains.

I will tell you now...

About the rain.

How it washes away,

Such abominable stains,

And comforts dearly,

The most stained of my name,

For I want for nothing,

But to see it again.

For even now,  our leaders,  they lie.

And could give less than we know,

If it's us who dies.

In these desperate times,

It's enough to be alive,

But every day now,  we're left

To ask why...

Oh, let the rain wash over us.

Oh, let the light of heaven shine.

And let the pain begone...

It was never mine.

Oh,  only now can I feel the rain...
I hate this... I hate ALL of this... but we'll get through it. After all,  we're only human...
I know not my worth;
I am worthless.

I live only for pleasure;

And nothing worth less.



I know not my goals,

For one who has none,

No purpose or privelege,

Only but fun.



I know not my sins;

I'm sure there are many;

And to all my kin,

A drink for a penny,



Of thought; enough

Or to raise up a cup;

Forgotten, besotten,

Yet still I wake up.
A little bit of depression and honesty mixed in one. It's all true.
Kris Fireheart Apr 2023
Is there something I can find
Buried deep in my mind,

An allure which ensures
Me of hope?

So pure and unadorned,
So naked, as was born,

Just a light, just a spark,
That which pulls upon
The heart,

To awaken, and allow
Me to see?

Is there something, buried deep,
Among the feelings I keep,

Is there hope for the one
Who has none?

No more sadness,
No more pain,

No more for a stain,
For a shadow of
What I once had?

No more crying,
No more lying,

No more wishing
I was dying,

Is there hope for the one,
Who has none?
Just a feeling I had tonight.  I wanted to share it, for everyone who wonders if tomorrow is worth waking up to. It's there hope for people like us?
Kris Fireheart Jan 2020
Somehow, I get myself in these situations,
Where all of my efforts can end in stagnation,

But sometimes I manage to find inspiration,
In my concentration and intoxication,

I've had so much beer i should be in my bed,
But there's too much to think of,

It's all in my head.

There's ideas and there's music,  there's joy and there's death,
And there's realization that there's nothing left.

See tonight I got word that it's working for me,

My whole life is decided,  I know what I'll be.
I'll write and I'll speak,  I'll get high and I'll teach,

And I'll be grateful for every mind that I reach.

But I'll always remember the path I once took,
Before novels and poems and college and books,

I'll remember the streets in December,  '09,
When I hustled for China and needles and wine,
When I first learned this world had two sides to its face,

There's the side that you see, then there's one other place.

And it's dark and it's *****,  but sometimes,  it's kind.
It can give you that shelter you've been trying to find.

But now after living in both of these worlds,
It honestly hurts me to have to decide.

Because one path will lead to respect in their eyes,
And the other will grant me that sweet peace of mind...
I lived in two worlds. I still do, as a matter of fact. But I have no regrets.
Kris Fireheart Sep 2019
Yes I can,
Take your hand,
Smile like a fool,
And say "Isn't life grand?"
And we can plan,
With Lady Xan...

Stressful days,
Sleepless nights,
Can't catch a wink
For the sweat and fright,
When I feel like,
I've lost the fight...

The pleasant sound
That bottle makes...
I toss it in my palm,
Like an old mistake,
And wonder how
Many should I take?

A little here,
A little there,
A little in the middle
Of my Anywhere,
And I can breathe,
This stagnant air...

But when she's gone,
Oh, trouble brews,
Feeling such a pain
I never thought I knew,
What to do?
Oh, what to DO?

With Lady Xan,
The lowest hand,
Feels like a gift
From a wonderland,
And yes I can,
With Lady Xan.
Xanax.  My bane,  my curse,  my savior.
I'm all alone,
Once again...

My empty home is
Devoid of friends.

Still, some,  they call,
Or show at odd hours,
To share a few drinks,
Or maybe some flower.

It's been a year, or
Nearly two,
Since I've left this house
With something to do.

My skin has gone pale;
It's deathly white,
It's been so long since
I've seen sunlight,

The sun feels so bright,
That star from afar,
Still I shun its gift,
And it shows with the sight.

Of me.

I can't explain why I
Simply stay inside,
Instead of living life,
Taking things in stride.

But still I rise with dry eyes,
And unlike some,
I feel a peace.

A freedom to choose
Whether to rise,
Or follow my
Wild heartbeat.
This poem is literally how I've been living lately. I rarely leave my house; when I've gone outside, I notice that my skin is so white I can see the veins now.  Yeah.  My mental issues have gotten worse; I can't work. Dealing with people is pretty hard, meds or not. But I still get up every morning, and sometimes, there's still friends who support me.
You grew up hard in
The streets,
Using pills and powder
Just to make ends
Meet...

At the age of eighteen,
You felt a panic build inside,
On the day you said
You felt me come alive.

You were nervous as hell;
Just trying to get ahead,
Then dad ended up in jail;
Two people were dead...

Now I can understand
How you felt,
Because I put myself through
The same hell as well.  

You handed me
To your own mother,
While you cried,
Said you'd love me forever,
And you never lied!

By the time I was
A teenager, and things
Changed,
We built our own
Relationship;
We were both the same!

Trading stories,
Trading lives
We were getting high,
We'd always end it
With a hug, when we
Said goodbye.

Now we're getting older;
We've finally matured,
We both knew this
Kind of life
Could never endure.

Now we leave the broken past
In the dark;
We have a bowl of pho,
Cigarettes in the park,

But there's one thing
To say, that I know will
Never change,

It's simple.

I love you, mama...

And happy mother's day.
Note: This can be sung to the instrumental of 2pac's "Dear Mama."
She's always been a Pac fan.


A poem for my mother that I wrote yesterday. She laughed and cried, as did I. Though she may have been absent for most of my life, I will always love and respect my mother. We've both struggled, and we continue to do so day by day.  But one thing never changes. I love you,  ma. Stay true,  and stay you. Don't ever change.
Kris Fireheart Feb 2018
My two best friends,
They've changed so much
Since we first met.
We once were close,  
Though really,
Who isn't?
These are my
Two best friends.

I still see them often,
Each morning
Or evening.
When I drive home.
They always stand
On the same corner.
Not quite dead,
But not alive.
These are my
Two best friends.
Too sad to even describe,  really.
Kris Fireheart Oct 2018
Nevermind,
It's never mine,
What I've never done;
Never left behind,
I'd never thought,
I'd never find...

Broken,
Shaken,
Never had a thought;
Never crossed my mind,
Never thought I'd know,
Never thought I'd mind...

Shotgun,
Rusted,
Never thought twice,
Filled my veins with ice,
I've never lied,
I've Never died...

But never's fine,
I've never twice,
Played a game of never mind with my life,
I'll never find,

I'm never fine...
Meh...
Kris Fireheart Feb 2019
Doctors said,
"Kid, you've got problems.
Not to worry,
We can solve them.
Take this pill twice,
Every morning.
Here's two more for
When you crash. "

I was stupid,
What did I know?
Fresh in high school
Fourteen years old.
Life just seemed to
Pass me by,
Then I took one
And got high.

Freshman year,
In ROTC,
So on point, no one
Could beat me.
Then one day,
They caught my eye;
"You should probably
Meet this guy. "

Fifteen kids stuffed
In a closet,
Huddled around our
Technical sergeant,
In his hands,
Like shining diamonds,
"I've got stuff that you
Should try, man. "

Lortab, norco,
I'd heard stories.
Ritalin just didn't
Do much for me.
Tylenol 4 and xanax bars
Made me picture
Crashing  cars.

Everyone knew that
I had Addy, I drank beer,
And I smoked fatties.
They said,
"What do you want for go-pills?"
I said,
"I'll take ALL of THOSE pills. "

From that day,
My life was over.
Never again would I
Be sober.
Still I pulled through,
In the end,
With some help from
My 'new friends. '

Let's fast forward,
On to college,
Rich kids with their
Parents' wallets.
Track me down with
Midterm chills,
"Hey man, can I maybe
Score some pills? "

Hydrocodone, my
Best friend,
Stays with me until
The end.
Empty bliss that's
Like no other,
Gifted by my
Lovely mother.

Every month, I'd
Throw a party,
Young and stupid,
All invited.
Smoke some ****
And drink and chill,
Waiting for those
Luscious pills.

Talking smack and
Starting drama, waiting
Till we hear my mama,
Twist the **** and
Step inside,
Bongs and blunts were quick
To hide.

I said,  "chill, guys,
She's not stupid.
My mom's cool with how
I do ****;
Sure she likes to take my pills,
Still, she's brought me
All my thrills. "

"Twenty norco, fifteen xanax,
Pill for pill,
Understand that? "
Then she sat,
And smoked our joints,
"Oh my adorable
****** boys! "

Travis said,
"Dude, that's your MOM? "
I said,  "why, man?
Is there a problem? "
He said,  "nah, but ****,
She's cool! "
I said,
"Only since I've been in school. "
This is one about my relationship with pills and how they seem to connect all of ny friends and family together.
Kris Fireheart Apr 2023
I dream each night
Of  prophecy

Of things that might come true.

I dream each night
Of prophecy,

Of fate,
Or what have you;

I dream each night
Of things
That can't exist or
Can't be true,

But every time I
Dream of fate
And always dream
Of you.

And when I wake,
From the light
through my
Windowpane,

I know it's happening,
The dream repeats
Itself again.

I dream each night
Of prophecy,
And all my dreams
Come true.

I dream each night
Of prophecy
And wake and cry
For you...
They say that 20 percent of your dreams are prophetic; of events that have Yet to happen. They say that dreams are simply memories of your days,  but that's not true... sometimes your dreams lead you to deja vu,; you have them, and they happen; the dreams have guided you...
Kris Fireheart Dec 2019
No, I've never felt
Such calm and such peace,
As when I have walked
These crowded streets.

With nods and smiles,
They call out to me,
To offer me greetings,
Or something to eat,

"Do you need a smoke, sir? "
"Hey,  I've got some ****, "
"It's always good to see you
Here,  Mr. C."

I just smile and I nod,
And say nothing at all,
I just give them a wave,
And remind them to call.

The dealers,  the junkies,
The sets and police,
They all know my name,
On the cracked Houston streets.

I know it's respect that
They're showing to me,
For all that I've done as
Who I used to be.

The scars on my knuckles
Still have yet to fade,
I carry my violence
And two deadly blades.

And those who once knew me,
As I was before,
They bow and they nod,
And they offer me more.
About a typical day when I walk the streets
Kris Fireheart Dec 2018
Feeling...
Ceiling...
Crush another can,
Something wonderful!
Wasted now,
Broken house...

Yeah...

Defeat,
Concrete...
Take another hit,
And it's all complete,
Just **** me,
Oh,  **** me...

Yeah...

Can't you see?
It's my creed,
Blood red seas,
So permanently!
And this is me!
Oh, this is me...

Yeah...

Sunlight,
So bright,
I think about a day,
I've never had my rights!
I'm Equal,
And Unequal...

Yeah...

Shadow ball!
Oh,  shadow ball,
Tell me why I never
Had faith at all!
Just let me sleep,
Oh, let me sleep,

Yeah...

Oh, Hashish,
And *****,
I can't imagine when
I've ever felt so numb!
Just guide me,
And hide me...

Yeah...

It's something new,
And something *******,
A form of happiness
I never thought I'd brew,
But still, I knew,
Oh, I knew...

Yeah...

Shadow ball,
Oh, shadow ball,
Tell me why I never
Had faith at all!
Just let me feel,
And leave me be...

Yeah...
About my favorite combination.  I call them shadow *****.
Kris Fireheart Jan 2020
It's another one of those sleepless nights...
All alone here in my darkness.
The blanket stops above my heart,
But I still can't close my eyes...

There are no more dreams to covet inside,  
No visions of wonder or gore.
That time has passed, so long ago,
And now I can't "see" anymore.

And so here I lie in my bed, wide awake.
Wondering why, and counting mistakes,
And silently hoping that somehow,
One day,

Somebody will hold me,
And ease all this pain...
I hate being alone... ever since I lost my fiancé, I still have Yet to find love again... but I can dream. I can hope...
Kris Fireheart Apr 2023
There's something
Over when you're
Sober

Something missing
In your mind.

When you've
Passed on,
And starting
Over,

There's something
You leave
Behind.

And now it's
Over,
Now I'm sober
And I'm supposed
To be fine....

But I'm not Over
What I found
When I was lost
In my mind...
68 days sober, trippy *** dreams, and I still feel like I'm missing something. No more coking and smoking for me. Seeing what it does to my roommate made me never want to do it again. That and my court case, of course.
Kris Fireheart Feb 2020
There it is...
I can feel it!
Something great
Is happening...

Better than any
Pill or shot.
It's so real; it...
Feels so hot!

What's this feeling?
Such emotion!
Senses reeling,
Such devotion!

No more guilt
Or remorse,
Or regret!

Finally,  my
Insanity
Is something
I GET.

Sociopathy.
I have no regrets.
But I still feel
Depression.

There's nothing left.
Just this
Aggression.

If I go to sleep
I wake up
And I weep.

But you disrespect,
And you'll wake
In the street.
Literally,  I have fought and bled for my gay rights. Do I feel anything for the guys I've laid out? Nope.
Kris Fireheart Feb 2018
On lonely days,
when I feel broke,
The kind of day that feels like I've lost
All hope,
It comes to take
Away the pain...

It splits the sky;
It clears the rain.
It sends a ray of light into my
Shadow -filled brain.
For just today,
It'll be okay...

But sometimes,
Sunshine,
It clears away the fog and it helps remind,
That I deserve
This gift of life...

And sometimes,
Sunshine,
Means another day when I can
Let it all out,
And I can smile,
Without my doubts...

On days when I
Sit locked inside,
Feeling so depressed I couldn't laugh
Or cry,
I'd close my eyes,
And step outside...

And sometimes,
Sunshine,
Like a memory from another
Lifetime,
A warm embrace;
My kindest friend...

On endless months,
Or brutal weeks,
Those times when even sleep never
Brings relief,
No drink or pill
Can give me peace...

I lay awake,
Beneath the sheets,
Begging for a dream that doesn't have
To be sweet.
Just let me fade,
And end this day...

But when I wake,
It covers me,
Brightest of them all in the Great Black
Sea,
It seems to say,
"Come out and play. "

See, sometimes,
Sunshine,
Means another day when I can
Never mind,
And leaves me free,
To just be Me...

And sometimes,
Sunshine,
Makes me think about why I
Doubt myself,
This gentle breeze
Can set me free...
I wrote this earlier this evening while watching the sunset at the park. It can be read as either a song or a poem.  The colors  of sunset  always have a way of making me smile,  no matter how ****** I feel that day.
Kris Fireheart Mar 2023
Somewhere,  out there,

There's a place where

I belong.



Somewhere, out there,

There's a face that

Sings a song,



To my mind,  

And it's mine,

And it's something

Meant for me,



'Cause somewhere,

Out there,

Must be a one

Who waits for me.



But deep inside,

I'm feeling blind,

There's so many things

That I've left behind.



I've loved, and

I've lost,

And still have

Yet to find...


But somewhere,

Out there,


Like a dream I

Can barely recall,

I know there's hope,

Even for somebody


Like me...


Broken,  insecure,

But somewhere, out there

must be a cure...



Somewhere, out there,

Till that day,

I'll endure...



All my loss and my pain,

And all the fear in

My brain,



Till  I find he who

Reminds,

Me of that joy,  

Once again...


Somewhere... out there...

I hope to dream again...
It's been almost ten years since I lost my fiancé Charlie to a ****** overdose on October 16, 2013. Since then,  I still wear the silver key he used to propose to me around my neck each day...

But maybe it's finally time to move on for me.  Maybe it's time to hope for a future. Hope for a love that I can call my own again...

Hope... but never forget. Rest in peace my beloved Chucky Mallon, born sunrise August 9, 1985, passed from this world on October 16, 2013. I still dream about you. I can't ever forget...
Kris Fireheart Mar 2018
Full moon on a
Friday night,
sipping whiskey and
watching sky,

Howl, howl,
at the light,
The wind is pure,
Conditions right.

Southern Comforts I
hold dear,
Seasons won't
affect us.

Peace and harmony,
right here,
In the heart of
Texas.

Light my smoke,
unleash my dog,
A friend is cooking
his dad's wild hog.

Sipping whiskey,  and
making fog,
Full moon on a
Friday night.

A little more ice,
A little less beer.
A little more light,
A little less fear.

These Southern Comforts
I have here,
These friends who sway,
Around me.

The whiskey flows,
The fire glows,
These guys start talking
about old "hoes,"

And everyone knows,
how that **** goes,
Full moon on a
Friday night...
This is tonight, plain and simple.  Tuning out my "frat boy" friends and just enjoying my buzz again...
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