Hello Poetry is a poetry community that raises money by advertising to passing readers like yourself.

If you're into poetry and meeting other poets, join us to remove ads and share your poetry. It's totally free.
Gods1son Sep 8
I think I'm losing my chill
I'm considering popping these pills

Too many issues to sweep under the rug
I think I might have to do these drugs

I have too many needs
I might just get high on this weed

Look at me, nothing seems to be on point
Yo, I'm just going to smoke a joint

I have got nothing to flaunt
I will stay indoors and smoke this blunt

Too many things my eyes have seen
I need to slow it down with this lean
Or codeine or promethazine

At the end of it all, they don't solve issues
I'm begging you, stop drug abuse!
Why is it that I have to get drunk
To feel fluid?
Why do I need to get high
To connect to my friends?
The last time I popped pills
I popped the ballon of my sadness
And blew up my future.
Addrral
Klonopin
Xanax
You name it and it’s next.
I don’t have a problem with drugs.
I have a problem with my mind.
I have a problem with the way
It’s always on high alert.
I have a problem with the way
It works.
I have a problem with the way
It tells me I’m never good enough.
I have a problem with the way
It hurts.
I have a problem.
It’s sad but true,
But all my problems
Started
With
You.
You could’ve saved me.
You could’ve helped me.
But all you did was laugh.
All you did was hurt me
And now
You ask me why I do what I do?
Well honey,
It all started with you.
You’ll never see this
And that hurts the most
you are sleeping in a world i can't see:
there are
clouds
holding hands
over my head
and i only ever
dream of you or
nothing

study in a city
smog in my teeth
stale mint air...
...but you're always
in this forest
i keep in my chest -
silence and kissing
there's something
strange and soft
and
missing

dumb hopeful
lonely girl in the mirror
it won't stop
raining

it won't stop
wow i miss him and i'm okay but that doesn't mean i can't miss him
Rambo Jan 2017
Come on and dance with me
It’s easy if you try
Come on and dance with me
Follow my lead and glide

Slip in the mud
Racing through your blood
You’re as good as gone
Drifting away with eyes half-shut

Come on and dance with me
It’s easy if you try
Come on and dance with me
You’re stepping out of time

It’s a living Hell
Cold sweats, puke, and pain
Your skin goes blue
When you drink the blackened rain

Do you want to dance with me?
It’s easy if you try
Come on and dance with me
As we fall down from the sky

Oh, come on and dance with me
It’s easy if you try
Come on now, dance with me
And I’ll shiver down your spine

The warmth is gone
The rush is fleeting away
You’ve nodded off
For the last time

You’ve come here to dance with me
So give me your best try
You've tread upon my dancing shoes
It’s now your time to die

Come on and dance with me
It’s easy if you try
Now, tell me 'bout your dance with death
Was it worth the high?

Come on and dance with me--
Title obviously a play on Poe's "The Masque of the Red Death." Where Poe's piece was about plague and disease, this piece is such for drug use, namely heroin (hence "Brown Death," "Blackened rain" "mud," and other such references). Drug use and abuse is an epidemic here in the United States. It is a disease, it can almost be described as a plague. This is just a quick poem (song) about the true hazard of drug use. The high is not worth the side effects, the psychological and physiological addiction, the pain and suffering, and the effects on others the drug(s) cause.
(You know exactly what drugs we're talking about here.)
Cray-Z...

You know that you are, fucking, crazy?

Think up a new grand goal to meet,
then drop the blotter, -to compete.

Are you movin' on up?
to the top, to a deluxe compartment in your mi-ind?

Lenny?

Saul admired David...

"Admired,"

him.

dissolved him in, David.

You know that you are, fucking, crazy?

Look at the hands, -they swirl in, ceiling paint...
Thinking like this the world is NO constraint.

Fuzzy
Futzy
Fickle
Fiber

Pick a pickle Whitley Streiber.

Gargle,
Gasp, rinse and repeat.

Then Devil for the Heaven's seat,
and find a tiny child to eat,
for tasty things water mouth with treat,
nothing stained by water's meet or tendered strangely as complete.

Crazy...

Carpet fibers tickle my neck.

I am a house.

Household item.

Bleach feels funny on the fingers,
they still won't change color back?

Think up a new grand goal to meet,
then drop the blotter, -to compete.
Then Devil for the Heaven's seat,
and find a tiny child to eat,
for tasty things water mouth with treat,
nothing stained by water's meet or tendered strangely incomplete.

Crazy you know that you are...

...is that wall supposed to be flashing?

*!!!!GET OFF MY ROCKER!!!!
You cannot just dip a finger in the dark because darkness will not let you go. Are you sexually attracted to circumstance? Then I have something for you. Life is easily hardened....those that know, know me.
She sat with smoke in her hand,
holes in her heart,
blood on her wrists,
and pain in her chest.

Noone understood,
noone tried,
noone cared,
atleast that's what she thought.

She had given up on it all,
love,
family,
friends,
life itself.

She was broken and bruised,
simply confused,
lonely she cruised,
day to night, night to day
all by herself.

"What will the future bring",
she thought for herself,
searched for answers she never found,
moved from cigarettes to the needle,
all she needed was one hit, just one hit
maybe everything would go away
It didn't go away...

One hit turned into many hits,
homeless and sick,
cold and hungry,
on the ground,
she was never found,
in time...

The girl who had given up,
soon became a body so cold,
started to rotten,
and now her body reflected how she felt all along,
she was dead, dead to the core.

The girl who had given up,
and everyone gave up on her too.

She simply crossed the border,
the border from life,
and into the grave...
Alison Shulman May 2016
my heart felt black and cold
so I took four little green pills to take the edge off my wandering mind
thoughts of wanting to die
but when those weren't enough I let one more dissolve under my tongue
because they say that gets into your bloodstream
they say that's how to really make it work
and suddenly I was floating into a white light
there was nothing around me
not even my thoughts
I guess I understand now why van ghoh ate the yellow paint
I guess I understand why people crash their cars into trees
and wrap them around poles
when your heart feels like it's rotting from the inside you you'll do anything to feel the light
Before fools began to recycle silliness
or love and sex became a commodity to be bought off the shelves of our desires.
Before muscle outranked intelligence
Or the loose were voted people of the year
Before a misguided girlfriend replaced a faithful wife
And hardwork was kicked out of the door by web scamming
Before intercourse became only rounds of loveless sex
Common sense lived next to sanity on the street called society.
Because we were too busy watering the gardens of our stupidity
Common sense gradually lost all sense and sensibility
until there was nothing left to compose a corpse.
Very few of us attended the burial
Because almost all of us didn't realize it was gone...

Uncommon sense told you how high crack could get you
common sense agreed you were going to feel fly
But like an airplane, you'd eventually come crashing like a pack of cards.
Uncommon sense got her pregnant out of wedlock
While common sense was still preparing a future under a respectable roof.
The same society which kick against abortion
Serves the pregnant teenager a cold shoulder and self-righteous looks of disdain.

How do you ponder a picture without the painting
Or seperate the sea from the Navy?
Downloading apps to help bridge the gap between stupidy and foolishness
As the brain lies unused like an abandon project.
But like Lagbaja and his mask
The more you look, the less you see
The fool will always go shopping but will never put wisdom in the basket.
COMMON SENSE is the theme for Mic Check 2016, an annual poetry and spoken word concert which holds in Kaduna State, Nigeria. This year Mic Check is scheduled to take place in July.
Pauline Russell Apr 2016
The ground beneath her is shaking
Her world again is rearranging
The stars and moon are falling, crashing to the earth
The sun to light had given birth
But the sun imploded
Leaving no motive
So there she stands in the inky black nothing
Eye's wide open, but seeing not a thing
No voices, not even in her brain
It all happened so fast it was insane
One minute a beautiful blue sky day
The next it all lay in decay
Blackness so heavy it's hard to move
But slowly she makes her way, she finds a groove.
In her pocket she finds the pills
To cure the oppressive ills
She finds a place beside a dark shattered star
Lies down beside it, they both are marred
She thows her arm around it felling only coldness
But at lest to something it is closeness
For love brought on this destruction
So from the dark star she will get her fluxion
Because it will never leave her side
As long as she has money to buy
Noah Oct 2015
a thousand eyes follow you from newly waxed floors
and trail after me with form-filled labels, white on gold
take as needed; do not operate machinery; relax.
the shadows follow our steps, vomit and blood next to God’s poster love.
pin it to the bathroom wall: peccavi, peccavi

two years, fifteen minutes, miles of scars.
we sleep through the days, and whisper
of nights before the hurricane

("what happened to those two?")
                                                     ("Deus misereatur, the storm took them.")

I daydream of sinking my teeth into the flesh of redemption,
to rip muscle from immaculate bone.
can we not move on?
copper denial drips from our jaws.

and Deo gratias, they say, you survived.
limbless and naked on tiled floors.
Deo gratias et Deus mortuus est.
survival is in our veins.

I watch you waiting in LCD purgatory
as you see my fingers bleed into the vinyl shielded couches of the 12am ER

perception through observation — I let you reveal who I am.
what am I feeling? how do I act?
breathing through each other with liquor in our lungs.
I know how the bile tastes in your throat,
and you know the burn of the whiskey on my tongue

why do we still reach for walls
where cicada-shell notices cling with scotch tape?
take a number and restore the riches;
leave the room and tear them down.

who but God can build over the ruins of fallen cities, fallen worlds?
and ora pro nobis, He is yet unwelcome here.


we are holy, in our own names we pray, and Hallelujah, we are saved
pretentious shit based on the experiences my close friend Xander and i went through idk. here's to 2+ years up from rock bottom, man. we've got this.
Next page