It is with sadness and long remorse
That we entertain this curse of course It’s most absurd, and that’s the rub Introducing the Twenty Seven Club Each decade we see the number grow And wonder as the we see them go Musicians so young, with hope and fears Meet their demise, after twenty seven years Robert Johnson was early, a master of blues A roadhouse musician who paid his dues Brian Jones helped found the Rolling Stones And drowned in a pool while swimming alone Alan Wilson at Woodstock played with Canned Heat Took too many downers, his life was complete The great guitarist, Jimi Hendrix gave thrills But died in his sleep from too many pills Janis Joplin, with energy and power of force At age twenty seven died mainlining horse The Doors Jim Morrison, one of a kind Extinguished with drugs his poetic mind Badfinger’s Pete Ham fortified with drink Took his own life, another twenty seven link And Kurt Cobain, Nirvana’s front man Died at twenty seven, from his very own hand Amy Winehouse, one of the members of late Perceived a world full of anguish and hate A talent with beauty, her hair black as coal But alcohol toxicity soon took its toll Not mentioned are many members left out There is no time now to give them a shout We hope they gather and sing in heaven The members of the Club - Twenty Seven
So many....so sad!
John Brown died in 2019, it's sad and it's true.
If he hadn't died, today he would've turned 52. We met at Bean Station Elementary School in 1979. We quickly became friends, he was a buddy of mine. But during the last few years of his life, he caused a lot of grief. He didn't want to pay back what he owed and he became a thief. When my back was turned, he swiped twenty of my pills. I wish that it was just a bad dream but sadly, it was real. I didn't know that John would turn to drugs when I was a kid. mark my words, if you do drugs, you will die just like he did.
DEDICATED TO JOHN BROWN (1970-2019) WHO DIED ON JUNE 3, 2019.
Death was California
the final breath in a hundred ways falling all over her atoms darkroom/lighthouse a game of replica back when she was beautiful an end to amnesia then tears before bedtime this is no way to make friends
**** the clock, leave me be
I have an itch that can not be fully scratched a hunger never sated a Jones that never peaks I am a slave, a concubine, a conscript to words they shiver up my spine and are as a Dragon's flame I need more to live like air, and water and love or the wind's subtle touch and my muse's flesh against mine For she has shown them to me Her rings of passion that shimmer in the sun and I swell, hypnotized **** the clock rest your hands I am bewitched and must needs be met Leave me be to our fantasy She waits for me still true and wanting My drug calls my veins throb the words, the words they tell her where I am Here I am still here and the Dragon must be appeased Oh tenderness the sweetness left in my memory for my wild imagination to ferment like wine Drunk now on these visions impaired with temptation I taste their milk of love and suckle to sleep. **** the clock though I can not stay here nestled within her ***** safe from the Dragon's flame Aye, I must leave but a spark of permanence remains a tattoo on my brain of flesh and sun and rings
*as always, thank you for your inspiration*
Tonight I feel as empty as the prescription bottles on my nightstand.
My consciousness has been elusive—
Most thoughts are intrusive. Subconscious stays refusive. I breathe in and eat up nature, hoping it’ll be my savior— Turn all my bad memories into Distorted visualizations and vapors.
This man has lost all twenty-seven emotions
Like a robot - Any whiff of emotion even feels too much Every word this man says is snubbed Every sleep - his heart beats slower From the pain this man suffered The drugs this man used to be So afraid of - Scares him no more For it had almost wounded him Right by his own bed Which he saw as a liberation This man is tired He's ended up becoming What he used to fight against It has consumed his soul To the point of no recovery Which is no longer necessary This man has zero life He lives for no one To be precise - To pay the price - This man shall die tonight At this point, death would hurt less
Note: This poem feature triggering topics (suicide, drug abuse, self-harm, depression). Kindly restrict yourself from reading if you are sensitive to these topics.
𝚘𝚛 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚍?
𝙾𝚛 𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚝 𝚊 𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚌𝚎 𝙸 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚙𝚊𝚢 . .. 𝚃𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚢 𝚝𝚘𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝚊𝚜 𝙸 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚒𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚗; 𝙼𝚒𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚎𝚗𝚍. 𝚆𝚊𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚞𝚙 𝚝𝚘𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚘𝚠 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚘𝚍𝚊𝚢, 𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚘𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕𝚜 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚍𝚊𝚢. 𝚂𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚝, 𝚐𝚘𝚝𝚝𝚊 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚊 𝚑𝚒𝚝. 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚎𝚞𝚙𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚌? 𝚃𝚘𝚘 𝚋𝚊𝚍 𝚒𝚝𝚜 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚘𝚍𝚊𝚢, 𝙶𝚎𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚝 𝚝𝚘𝚐𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛! 𝙶𝚘𝚝𝚝𝚊 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚊 𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚝. 𝙹𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚋𝚕𝚞𝚗𝚝, '𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚕𝚞𝚗𝚝.' 𝚁𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚎, 𝙸𝚝'𝚜 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚏𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝. 𝚄𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚏𝚞𝚗 . .. 𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚏𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚜. 𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚊 𝚋𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚒𝚌𝚎. 𝚈𝚎𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎'𝚜 𝚊 𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚔𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜, 𝙳𝚎𝚎𝚙 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗. 𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚊 𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚠𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚒𝚝 𝚐𝚘 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢. 𝙵*𝙲𝙺 𝚝𝚘𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚘𝚠, 𝙶𝚘𝚝𝚝𝚊 𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚘𝚍𝚊𝚢.
For those battling drugs and addiction,
Or feeling stuck in life. © snoW