"amphetamine" poems
This is the colour of my anger:
A white hot searing fever
Tearing through my veins like amphetamine;
A surreal dream that keeps replaying in my brain
Over and over again...
Life is pain enough
Without other people
Making it tough. Guess I ran out of luck:
Top of the class and surrounded by dumb *****
Whose only qualification is knowing how to trigger
The ticking bomb I've strapped on
In my anger.
This is the colour
This is the colour
This is the ************* colour
This is the colour of my anger:
This weird red mist with its fingers
Coiled around my brain,
Blurring my vision as I allow it
To make my decisions
For me. Again, it hands me the gun, then runs,
Leaving me to get the
Damage done. Well, aint this fun?
Three, two, one, and it’s time to take cover
I won’t get any sleep
Until I’ve shown you the colour
Of my anger.
This is the colour
This is the colour
This is the ************* colour
This is the colour of my anger:
A smouldering orange lava
That laughs at the wrath of the sun,
And I feel like the risen Son
As it pours out of me, heavenly,
Reducing everything in its path to the
Sum of zero
But this is just a fraction of what it’s capable of.
Hot and full of hell is my fury. Shit's getting gory.
It's time to remove the canker.
No more bluffing, I’m all in -
Let the games begin
With my anger.
This is the colour
This is the colour
This is the ************* colour
This is the colour of my anger:
The cloudless blue of my eyes
As I admire my workmanship,
Reflecting upon the new ********
That I have just ripped for you.
My smile spreads from ear to ear, like a slit throat,
Beatific in my ecstasy as this anger drains out of me.
The adrenaline that pumped so furiously
Now dumps its load in me, bringing me to my knees.
Enough, I say, as I see how small you stand there;
Let's call it a day, now be on your way,
Just remember the colour of my anger.
Don’t ever
****
With me
Again
Jun 25, 2012
Jun 25, 2012 at 10:40 PM UTC
Nobody feels any pain
Tonight as I stand inside the rain
Everybody knows
That Baby's got new clothes
But lately I see her ribbons and her bows
Have fallen from her curls.
She takes just like a woman, yes, she does
She makes love just like a woman, yes, she does
And she aches just like a woman
But she breaks just like a little girl.
Queen Mary, she's my friend
Yes, I believe I'll go see her again
Nobody has to guess
That Baby can't be blessed
Till she sees finally that she's like all the rest
With her fog, her amphetamine and her pearls.
She takes just like a woman, yes, she does
She makes love just like a woman, yes, she does
And she aches just like a woman
But she breaks just like a little girl.
It was raining from the first
And I was dying there of thirst
So I came in here
And your long-time curse hurts
But what's worse
Is this pain in here
I can't stay in here
Ain't it clear that --
I just can't fit
Yes, I believe it's time for us to quit
When we meet again
Introduced as friends
Please don't let on that you knew me when
I was hungry and it was your world.
Ah, you fake just like a woman, yes, you do
You make love just like a woman, yes, you do
Then you ache just like a woman
But you break just like a little girl.
Feb 25, 2015
Feb 25, 2015 at 12:03 AM UTC
To Ezra Pound
These are the names of the companies that have made
money from this war
nineteenhundredsixtyeight Annodomini fourthousand
eighty Hebraic
These are the Corporations who have profited by merchan-
dising skinburning phosphorous or shells fragmented
to thousands of fleshpiercing needles
and here listed money millions gained by each combine for
manufacture
and here are gains numbered, index'd swelling a decade, set
in order,
here named the Fathers in office in these industries, tele-
phones directing finance,
names of directors, makers of fates, and the names of the
stockholders of these destined Aggregates,
and here are the names of their ambassadors to the Capital,
representatives to legislature, those who sit drinking
in hotel lobbies to persuade,
and separate listed, those who drop Amphetamine with
military, gossip, argue, and persuade
suggesting policy naming language proposing strategy, this
done for fee as ambassadors to Pentagon, consul-
tants to military, paid by their industry:
and these are the names of the generals & captains mili-
tary, who know thus work for war goods manufactur-
ers;
and above these, listed, the names of the banks, combines,
investment trusts that control these industries:
and these are the names of the newspapers owned by these
banks
and these are the names of the airstations owned by these
combines;
and these are the numbers of thousands of citizens em-
ployed by these businesses named;
and the beginning of this accounting is 1958 and the end
1968, that static be contained in orderly mind,
coherent and definite,
and the first form of this litany begun first day December
1967 furthers this poem of these States.
December 1, 1967
3.8k
Listen to this @ https://soundcloud.com/spiritbarehear/the-living-instrument
PRESSURE - like animal skin stretched over the head of a drum,
my heart,
BEATING, like ancient hands, BEATING
an even more ancient rhythm, BEATING. BEATING.
tribal eyes wide, pupils bare, BEATING
with ayahausca or psilocybin, ibogain or some sort of villlage speed
BEATEN. BEATEN.
with dirt and herbs, a lion's adrenal gland to make the Super Amphetamine,
royal in it's derivatives
and it makes the heart BEAT BEAT BEAT
like a prisoner in the straight jacket of lungs it BEATS and screams blood into bursting vessels
it BEATS like the misunderstood youth of the 20th Century, the frenetic spirit HOT and LOUD
and lost...
POUNDING HEART BEAT NO MORE FOR THE NON-SHIT GIVERS!
leave it to the liver to filter out those toxic connections that evoke those dire emotions
arresting both the heart and the breath
IF I AM TO FEEL CLOSE TO DEATH
let it be because if I were to live any longer in a happiness, it would just be unfair to the rest
that if I were to live any longer in a happiness
the whole of my being would fold into the openness of my chest
IF I AM TO FEEL CLOSE TO DEATH
it will not be caused by a PANIC, a PANIC caused by a PUSH, a PUSH caused by discontentment, discontentment caused by impatience, and impatience caused
by the resounding WUBwubWUBwubWUBwub of a beating heart.
THE LIVING INSTRUMENT.
living instrument, sing to me what is meant
living instrument, can you forget
what once made your strings as heavy as led?
what once made you wrench?
living instrument, twice as large as the machine in the skull, why do we bother with loving?
living instrument, are you solid enough to take this fall?
Dec 5, 2013
Dec 5, 2013 at 10:33 AM UTC
Elevate the sound
Slowly and surely
you have to listen
smell, taste and touch
the music
Alcohol? Yes.
Drugs? Yes.
What kinds? All kinds.
60 people in a room w/ worn out walls
an unwanted male is followed by hecklers
the matriarchs have had enough
and bull him to the door
He doesn't want to leave
the party is just beginning
The clowns follow him
like wild hyenas
He fights like a lion
targets the clan of the matriarch
the young and weak
is it correct to aim the violence on the weak
because the strong is of the opposite gender?
Is it right to abuse the rule
Woman: the untouchable
People being to watch
w/ their dying spectators eyes
in another section a large male confronts the house owner
They begin their violent dance of limbs
Swarming bodies collide
violent outburst
chaotic music to accompany
I scream a devils scream
fighting everywhere
Another matriarch
she jumps on the crowd
using a whiskey bottle for a club
dancing on top of the twirling bodies of energy
A pit-bull barks aggressively
people start to jump out windows
everybody is way too high
The fighting stops
with the arrival of cops
nobody listens
their vision of authority thwarted
nobody is arrested
narcotics present
amphetamine fuel
We burned a cross in a large fire half an hour earlier
Jun 29, 2013
Jun 29, 2013 at 10:48 AM UTC
Let's go grab the money
Hidden in the Christmas Tree
Shoppe mason jar with the
Frosted stencil designs,
Ornate and resembling flora.
Let's take that money,
The three separate wadded
***** of once crisp
Green pieces of paper
That somehow reach the
Arbitrary total of one
Thousand, three hundred and
Twenty dollars and
Fifty lonely cents.
Let's take that 1,320.50
And go see the desolate
Stretch of sprawling
Humanity deferred between
These hiked peaks and the
Dangerous mountains
Separating the west
From the rest.
Let's go there!
Let's go there!
We'll make it across,
Be sure of that,
Be sure of nothing
But that!
Let's use the remaining
Seven fifty
To buy some
Seven Eleven sustenance
To have while
We walk backwards
Down backroads edged
With the encroachment
Of the wild back into
Negative space some
Long-ago engineer
Carved and paved.
Let's tell the driver of
This beat-up
Time-worn down
Overcast grey
Buick LeSabre
That we can pay her
Ten dollars to replace
The juice necessary to get
Us back to our sick aunt's
House in Poughkeepsie.
At the gas station
We'll tell her to stop
Real quick
And hope she leaves the
Auto to go
Pay the schlup at
The teller's booth
And jack the beater
And hope we won't
Have to bolt
Again if she doesn't.
Let's call my cousin
And find out who will give
Us four hundred dollars for
The stolen used parts store
And take that four hundred
And buy:
Two (2) greyhound tickets to get us
Back to our ****** apartment
In Stamford: 64.50 American
Three (3) damp-bunned flimsy
Beef patties glued between
Pieces of government-issue
Yellow American cheese
With all the fixins we please: 3.24 American
One (1) zip of dried out
Seeded and stemmed breaks
From the boredom of
Our own conscious
Processes: 120 American if lucky
At least eight (8) servings
Of amphetamine based
Pressed little buttons
Of confused energy: 200 American
One (1) bouquet of
Red yellow and oranges
Mixed on the petals of
Your mother's favorite
Species: whatever's left American.
Oct 2, 2012
Oct 2, 2012 at 12:40 AM UTC
i miss that light
i might die
buzz that I used to have.
it wasn’t the amphetamine high--
it was the empty stomach
i don’t have to eat
high
every meal skipped was power
as if we were otherworldly creatures
whose stomachs would only contain naughty water and faerie food.
we were hollowing out
and i loved it.
the lightness of my bones, the way my cheek bones were shining through
and my ribs were getting
e
a
s
i
e
r
to count.
& i miss that heart exploding dilated eyes
rush. not for the high
but for the simple matter that i was bird thin
empty.
not thin enough, but on my way.
i miss it, and it misses me.
i am strong enough…aren’t i?
i could do it again.
and this time—
i wont need the pills.
self loathing is fuel enough.
i want that power— every bite I don’t take is a boy who
told me i wasn’t good enough.
every skipped meal is a small triumph against myself.
i can do it.
it would be easy and no one would notice.
but i wont.
Nov 12, 2012
Nov 12, 2012 at 5:18 PM UTC
our love making is an
amphetamine
coming together,
crack ******* this stunning pleasure
wilding dreams,
mescaline pretense too real
daily life,
the modulation high of a flotation device,
some call it cannabis-like
gentle drowsy,
a glass of tea and
she...
May 30, 2015
May 30, 2015 at 1:15 PM UTC
-
today,
I was offered the chance to buy
two 40 mg Adderall pills.
At first I though,
"Eh, a nice dime bag sounds better to me"
But then I remembered my school's mandatory drug testing,
and then I remembered this horrible writer's block that has been plaguing me.
I had heard from friends in the past that the amphetamine-salt combo worked wonders for students.
I had heard that the wonder drug made you do stuff. Any stuff. Anything.
You can not sit still after popping over the dosage of Adderall.
You clean your room, you read a book, you write an essay and for me, hopefully, write.
Enough with the ********
It's been about forty minutes since I swallowed one and half pills and ground up and snorted another half of one. Okay.
I feel as though I maybe breathing louder than normal.
Also, I'm not writing one line and then switching over to tumblr as I usually do.
Also, my room is really *****
Also, I've drunk two sprites and ate some leftover Chinese food.
Also, it's really ******* quiet. It's eery.
Also, yesterday in my English class this really nice openly gay kid named Connor walked across the class and as he did so this other kid sitting next to me whispered quite loudly ****** and I did nothing but sit there and angrily stare at my desk.
Also, it's been eating me up inside ever since.
Also, about an hour ago my mom took my (half) baby sister so see her **** of a) father. She said she'd be home around seven thirty and it's seven twenty eight but she's usually late.
Also, I wish she would buy me cigarettes.
Also, it's Thursday and I have a D- in Biology.
****
Also, I might hangout with my friend Ryley tomorrow.
Also, I might become a methamphetamine addict.
Also, I spelled that without using spell check.
Jan 31, 2013
Jan 31, 2013 at 10:29 PM UTC
in an ancient temple
under a taurus moon
you showed me your feathers
with pride, as if my flaming hair
could not consume them.
today you brought no water but
flew from it, you betrayed the
constellation that ascended the
horizon at the moment of your birth.
and how did you convince
a priestess of fire to offer you saline
streams amidst your drought?
it must have been aphrodite crawling
in skorpios, it must have been ****
amphetamine mania, it must have been the milky
way my owl mother raised me.
and if by chance it was your fingers commanding
chords, if it was the scar upon your
chest, if it was your moth-lust, your
keen prose, your wolven lunar howl,
then i have been stung once more while playing
in the poison. it was likely just my
horns itching for your ex's over
powdered eyes. it was probably my god of war
demanding human sacrifice.
you ill-fated soul, how you must thirst now
in glucose starved darkness. don't you know i float
freely in deep lakes beneath the caves?
don't you know a python chokes a whooping crane with pleasure?
Sep 23, 2013
Sep 23, 2013 at 8:32 PM UTC
So is Physics now in trouble
Because neutrinos too fast fly
As clever troglodytes with white coats
Measure once again the psi
Could it explain the dopamine injection?
The amphetamine of just one kiss
Underpinning organic chemistry
That can make me feel like this
But No - it goes much deeper
It might give credence to the thought
That sometimes things just happen
With a cause that sums to nought
So Einstein wasn’t wrong
He just did not say it all
He knew that physics has its part to play
In explaining why we fall.
Sep 25, 2011
Sep 25, 2011 at 4:57 AM UTC
whiteness is GMO
genetically modified genocide
like and from fascism
psychologically modified
historically modified
purely incestuous
time loop
amphetamine
attention span
Dec 25, 2016
Dec 25, 2016 at 5:49 PM UTC
Miss Amphetamine,
It's been two weeks
Since I bowed down
to speak in tongues
To worship you.
**You ****
You told me
That you'd see me next Tuesday
When I felt my soul
wasn't enough.
But I met someone else
She sets my soul on fire
sings my body electric
and keeps my
electro-magnetic heart
stimulated
Attracting the opposite
of what you held together
and selfishly beat
with chemicals
Miss Amphetamine,
you were my soul's
straight jacket
A cuckold of imagination
you got off
on watching me
**** myself
May 24, 2014
May 24, 2014 at 5:57 PM UTC
They say that if you're not doping you're no-hoping
but without it I can say that I'm more than coping
maybe sometimes I might take a Polska beer
be careful - even that might make you feel queer
I tried hash but then started running short of cash
when you suddenly need something you make a mad dash
there's always speed, coke and amphetamine
but if you don't surface, you'll know what I mean
You just can't beat a decent ***********
to give you good head and instant elation
I took all these aids and put them in the bin
be sensible and don't even try to begin
If I want ecstasy - then I'll just make love
it's the best feeling from heaven above
May 28, 2016
May 28, 2016 at 12:05 PM UTC
Nicotine and amphetamine cure my loneliness and longing for attention,
hours spent scrolling through fake news and useless ploys for attention,
maybe they're just like me
I think as I watch their exasperated cry for help.
All they want is some attention or someone to give it to them,
But they can’t have it
It’s not that simple
I whisper, as I scroll through what's been recently posted.
Everyones either sad or single,
And I fit both categories.
So why is everyone always coming for each other?
You see no matter how much we ask,
No matter how many times we ask the world for help,
They wont answer our cries
Because we’re pathetic?
Exactly.
See the human mind likes to judge everything,
Whether it be ourselves or others,
We are constantly judging.
Whether it's not done right or done too well,
The world has a problem with it.
They call this Twitter
Nov 18, 2020
Nov 18, 2020 at 8:19 AM UTC
Transcendence and unity was always my friend
I know,
Something that doesn't exist yet always lingers
a man in black, everywhere, always filling cups
and know I'm staring into the face of that man though he no longer exists
There's an undiscovered idea or concept, nobody sees it but it's here
with me over my shoulder always
Do you hear those voices on the mainline when the shore is out
why do you see today, when not yesterday, was blind
a certain sense of paranoia, uplifting
Behind the lamp post on the corner there's the man in a black overcoat
and on the roof, over there
and in trees behind brick houses
everywhere
I see him
How can you escape these walls when captive men's lives linger on
Sighing again, it's morning, did you cry today?
Those headphones passive pass no mas but moreover we're dying
cerebral disconnect
everything changes
creativity dies when the keyboard intervenes
and the blackness of one turns into itself and everything dies before being reborn again somewhere else
somewhere different
Erratic thoughts but these are dying words when they come each night, the terrors
Is there anybody or anything anymore?
Resistance to life now is dull and over. Done.
heavy lungs still breathing but detached
Where the ghosts of Saturday night roam in pilfered streets
and numbed limbs crawling
re-percussive Robitussin and gushing percussion, oh the jazz-hall bells
swing la
swing
oh its yellow in nightlife fever fervor forever
Gábor!
Tell me these sweet dreams again
great white flags on the shoreline as the ships arrive home
and the war is done
Did I import the brown in past lives?
Jeer jazz man jeer!
and this wild hair is the sea, swim with me forever
the guiding hand on my wrist is not my own
the door slams shut in echo chamber corridors and the tension in the neck is incredible
but the end is never that, it's only the beginning in disguise
I am constantly haunted by my psychosis
Amphetamine dreams
and Sunday dawns
the hazy yawns
- to sleep
Dec 1, 2013
Dec 1, 2013 at 9:18 AM UTC
you enter my dreams with such audacious curiousity;
examined the void with intellect- deprived precision,
inspected every crevice painted in colour.
you left the blue for last because you say
the amphetamine matches my eyes.
you sample every syllable ever borne from my mouth,
denude the metaphors to their unchaste nakedness,
reach inside for unfleshly meaning.
you say all my filthy secrets implode into
ugly saliva bubbles on the brim of my tongue
and that is why you bite it off.
you make the drain spin out water. you make reverse hurricanes.
you euthanise my suffering mind with vulgarity and sliver-veined chalks.
i like it when the moon is yellow and not white.
spread me across your bones, you make me cold
**** in flesh. you wear me on your head as you would a stubborn fever.
you lick the lily, burn away its petals and
then you use the ashes in your next drag.
there are ghosts in your hair, they want idiosyncratic judgments.
they want anatomised angels and amputated wings.
they want ribs, signals, vessels and chlorine and aileron segments.
and electric ***
i am thinking of lexemes and lycoris, the vulnerability of artlessness,
prosthetic fingers and cigarettes, the umbrella under metal rain.
i only remember realities when they are expired.
the ribbon between cognition and the ventriloquist.
the psychology in undesired sentences.
this is the only immortality you and i may share; amongst ourselves
like teenagers filching answers before algebra, like dealers exchanging
eight-balls, pipes and profanity, like animals in chemical heat.
this vanilla immortality that we no longer need.
i'm watching the end of the world
from underneath your clothes.
Nov 1, 2010
Nov 1, 2010 at 6:42 AM UTC
vyvanse, at last, my chance to be
alive, to do, to finish all my
projects, **** I love this job,
I want to dig it all day long
ritalin, my only friend, you'll be
there till the very end, I know
that I am happy now, I
think that I have meaning now,
I wish you wouldn't bring me down, I wish I weren't
running out
adderall, yeah that's my ****
when addie's there, agree with it,
I'll never stop this addie binge, I know that
I don't have to quit,
my doctor tells me "this is it",
my dealer tells me "this the ****
I'm happy now it's safe to say the
war on drugs will end today,
amphetamine's the bread we break, the
wedding band that's been exchanged
between this government-sanctioned
pharmaceutical cartel
and the DEA
May 20, 2014
May 20, 2014 at 8:43 PM UTC
little peach colored amphetamine
allows reality
to be a dream
uncertain if it prohibits meaning
or stifles raw creativity
it's hard to decipher when without it
there seems to be no purpose
no motivating factors
are present in its absence
naturalistic existence
e x t i n g u i s h e d
by addictive dependence
lacking attachment to actuality
solely pieces of speed can calm me
Sep 6, 2014
Sep 6, 2014 at 6:07 PM UTC
Something would come of it yet
The last cocaine-wild, cosmic amphetamine eyes
Howled down the eastern hills
To the city’s beckoning lights
Tramps and harlots light fire from their palms
Blown pupils dark in love sick, longing eyes
Growing with the wild, restless wind
In lustful, glamorous disguise
And there the angel of the evening
Sat upon the sultry heat
As troubadours gaze into the mirror
She pours them pills in restless fleets
And as the city settles
And the western wind starts to blow
The dizzy euphoria sinks away
As their vision starts to close
So dawn breaks the singing night
The buzzing high leaves the blood
The poets and painters
Let their stream of consciousness flood
Torn rhymes cover the wall
Where artists and addicts have met
Where splattered tunes had brayed
Something came of it yet.
Jan 9, 2017
Jan 9, 2017 at 4:52 PM UTC