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A M Ryder Sep 2018
Coke on my gums makes the whiskey go down like water
And so I feel nothing

I'll destroy myself alone so nothing can hold me back
So no one says "Enough."
I won't blame you for not saying something
I won't blame you for not "saving me"
How I can't be happy that you're happy

My ancestors are all angels up way too high and probably disappointed in what and who've I become
But still I don't care, they're all dead
Those lucky *****

Daylight breaks and the dawn has come
So I guess I've been up all night

These words are the very breath of my demons
And I haven't heard from an angel in ages
Through the eyes of the beast in me
I've become friends with the abyss
And it has politely invited me in

So another for the writer
Another bottle all by myself
To soak my soul
And drench any dream or hope of a happy life
I might have had left
Working piece that needs feedback, I found this in an old journal and I really see a gem in it.
Sara Kellie Jun 2018
Twenty years in the fast lane, speeding
was ecstacy at the time.
Sweet heady bubbles of coke,
buzzing at feeding.
No softeners added, lemon or lime.
My therapy, my medication.

******, my mind on a long vacation.
Knowing this time would
one day arrive.
My restless legs, my tired insides.
My not so central nervous system,
twitching fingers, flickering eyes.
This to me is no surprise.
My therapy, now my reprise.

Peotyr by aKydee.
Drugs saved my life once.
Day Sep 2017
love has always been my drug
what i needed in my veins
and when i met you I thought
you were the dealer of my dreams
but lately
it seems like
you used all the good ****, first
now laced and deadly leftovers you offer
still i crawl back

addicted to my own demise
Luis....please. I need more than this.
Jenn Dec 2018
my soul broke
my love decays.
my thoughts of you illuminate

i want to change us,
but that leaves me with dust
because of my mistrust
of you with other girls

you just want a girl with curls
and a skinny body

you don't love my coke bottle waist
my love for you has been misplaced
Shy Mar 1
With smoke in my lungs
And bourbon on my breathe
I sit here alone
From when you left
Nothing stops the pain
Or could of prepared me
For what you said
As you walked out the door
Mikey Kania Nov 15
take me away from this journey
i am trapped in the land of placelessness

blind / hypnotized
route 36 / bolivia
deaf / treated with ultrasound
simultaneously

scarcely knowing
what all that means

i am feeling the rising of blood
a wave of heat like sandstorms

inevitability: willful / knowing / aware

i am putting myself at risk of dying
long ago i read about the risks and consequences
of my ******* abuse
pervaded them intellectually while

my heart remains deafly because
of *******
bitter
sear
aflutter and in panic

there is just:

one life
one heart
one body one man

man what are you doing?!?!
i am hollering into my inner
embracing the envelope
obsessed over bitterness
numb love
in the dungeon of plotted heavens
lofty as never before
is where i am running away from:
every day

in the 1920s there was a man
who they called coke-emil
he sold ******* in the nightstreets of berlin

the national archive has been keeping
a picture of him doing business with
two girls out of gangland we
can't see the face of the one standing left only  
her back

however her companion typifies precisely
what the drug creates in our souls:
a form that can not be imitated
like the effect of the drug

a form of longing and greed in the
girl's face

longing and greed
balancing each other
not one of
these states predominates

while beholding the girl i am becoming
horridly conscious
about myself
horridly about

my relationship with *******
my affair with *******
my love to ******* this
sounds sick?
indeed it is

we call it
suffering from an addiction

we call it
suffering from a dependency

become clean.
i wish you willpower
wish you strong luck
wish you peace at last

the rate of relapsing
******* users is vast
during the night

when the wind is
breezing mildly

when the stones of the cities
are breathing out the heat of the day

while you are
sneaking over the streets

while every street corner resembles
the very one where
coke-emil used to sell his product

while you are sensing the smell
of bitterness

while you are being preoccupied with
her face: her longing her greed

while you are experiencing
yourself:

more deeply
more soberly
and more knowingly
as before

while you
are reaching out your hands searching
with kidfingers for coke-emil

the guy with the warped corner of the mouth
the reliable /greedy one

the one who is always ready

a salesman has to be available for
every second of your longing
every second of your greed

coke-emil: your world is made of black and white
your hat is grey its bonnet is vanishing as your
shivering hands

hands that spread capsules
hands that grap at bills
hands that you use to brush away your sweat

**** between the lipps
shabby coat

coke-emil your spirit
blows through inner cities like gas fumes
a grin on your face coming from
lurid lights

you became immortal
you underwent rapid decades
you were an addict
you created addicts
you served addicts

the ****** expression of the girl
your child-like customer
remains for

all for everybody with a
*******-addiction

for all and for everybody
who depends on *******

for all and everybody
who is clean from *******

for all and everybody:
longing and greed

rest in peace girl
based on true events
celestial Feb 2018
to love thine own self is a masquerade,
concealing the shrine of hallowed skeletons,
whom we worship, and to whom we sacrifice
our ghastly flesh, as we set fire to our lungs
with cigarettes, to numb our bodies' aching;
pumped full of diet coke and *******,
filling the gaps: it makes you thinner,
and there is no beauty without pain.
i think i'm relapsing.
Purcy Flaherty Apr 2018
I like a little ***,
I like a little Coke,
I like a little Whiskey,
I like a little Dope.

I like a little Gin,
I like a little Wine,
I like a little Pill,
I like a friend of mine.

I like a little something to while away the time.
I like a little something to pacify my mind.
https://youtu.be/OVsdacYuQQI
Sometimes the most simplistic poems are beautiful.

I eat apples because i'm sad, and I like coke too much;

My gums hurt when I bite into the skin of it.
Reminding me that sometimes, the Pleasures of the things that are simple,
are sublimely painful.
like apples, coke in mouthfuls.
It hurts because my gums bleed from chemical burns of stimulates that are lacking opalescence experiances
Jacking my sails  that left me high and dry.
in all odible sensible seriousness,
I'm ready to cry,
hopeing by the end
that I beg
like the children forced to manufacture it,
Hopeing to die.

But I beckon for that pain
Not out of self destructive gain.
But out of recognition for what i've lost.
The identity of the man drowning in Desolate porcelein desserts and tossed into oceans named after the many emotions i'm swayed by.
Sadness leaves me floating,
Anxiety leaves me floundering, Depression has me drowning.
Not a matter of difference but for the sake of juxtaposition.
When Thoughtfulness is chosen.
Happiness lets me see my position.
Then Confidence puts my gears in motion.
Because i've seen bouys floating,
men in yahts gloating,
Survivers floating,
Kids in rags
Not clothing
But like a light house
Your smile
Glowing

I can't think right now because my teeth hurt. From eating apples and likeing coke too much.
But at least I feel alive
Mikey Kania Nov 19
*****
****
coke

don't come
home

here ain't ya place
anymore

mommy forgot you
dad burned all
your pictures
dad destroyed your old
room

i hate you

besides:
got some blow?
i be filling gapz  
i been tizzop
Bryan Lunsford May 2018
With a paranoid soul,
I've been staring for hours and hours out of my peephole,
Where beholds a pair of secretive glowing eyes made of gold,
With it being that of a sinister little troll that's had my paranoia at tenfold,
I feel as my whole mind, here, begins to fold and nearly implode,
With my emotions no longer being able to go with the flow,
I decide to walk away, undress, and then snort a line of coke,
Followed by taking a hit of **** while I put on my bulletproof vest,
Oh, and yes!–surely if it's a fight that these little demons want to see,
Then it'll be a fight that I'll bring outside where I'll make them all regret ever trying to mess with me,
For no longer will I hide and allow them to whisper to me from my lone tree,
No!–For I will tell them all "I'll no longer be the one to carry out their evil little deeds",
And I will tell them that statement with a knife while rushing at their golden-eyed chief,
You know, just so there's no question of my authority,
Though, with a few steps outside, I see no pair of golden eyes within my vicinity,
Oh, and with "Such lies and deceit!" being the words that I have just screamed,
I hear a whisper whispering to me (as it's whispering from my only tree)
Where I decide to scream, "Oh, and you will not be making a mockery of me!",
Though, with nothing but a chuckle (as I know this voice is chuckling at me)
I pick up an apple and throw it directly at my lonely little tree,
There!–hearing with a loud screech and seeing a shadowy creature drop beneath,
It's with the sight of a hundred pairs of eyes lighting up my scenery,
And surely with my paranoia spiked to the highest degree,
I begin to wonder is this all in my mind? Though, I decide to entrust in my feet,
Where I run, and see this beast begin to chase after me,
I race towards my door, with it being "****** ******!" that I scream,
As it's with this peep hole, once again, and just like before consuming all that my eyes see,
I hear that whisper once more, hearing as that whisper turns into a roar,
And hearing as it tells me–like it's told me before,
That "Methamphetamine really isn't fun anymore"
All observation is from a particular point, but
acknowledged subjectivity's better than naught.
Thus follows some comments on their qualitative nature.
Use them as you deem. In this piece everything is as it seems.

Caffeine is unappreciated enough,
Give credit to that stimulant for the things it does.
Coffee has little time to play, for there are errands
to attend to before the light fades.

The amphetamine will spin you until you're spun,
The cathinone will also try you with its luck.
The stimulant is a trickster [touch within]
and a magician never reveals their secret,
Even when seeking it befalls endlessness.

Me and E(cstasy) used to dance all night,
Closer to all your dreams was as far
from the light, we soaked ourselves
in emotionality and I soared high:
Perfection in the dark
rekindled my heart
; 'cause
on pills you love everyone.

******* is always hungry but will never feed you
for it is naught but the scent of pure ego;
because on coke everyone loves you.

There is nothing to learn from an opioid or benzodiazepine
beyond the hedonistic stupor in-between awake and sleeping.
Similarly, cigarettes never taught me anything about myself
much like quick, ***** ***, that's nicotine and painkillers, in essence.

Alcohol is reliable for those sociable
but can hurt the body and scorn the emotional.
Drink toyed with me, then she abandoned me;
Despite that messiness I still reminisce occasionally.

Gamma-HydroxyButyric acid [GHB] requires utmost caution,
One must observe the proper conduct when
wading through such subtle intoxication.

Don't use ket too much, don't use angel dust.
If you want a supreme arylcyclohexylamine
seek out methoxetamine, use it responsibly.
Dissociation, end of line; no[thing is o]ne.

Always be considerate before transcending reality,
Reverence for psychedelics keeps them self-regulatory.
Of all the compounds they would humble and reveal to you;
Existential, being when tripping; every[is]one.

Cannabis I dared to use recreationally
for it often reminded us when one should act sensibly.
That deep conversing with trusted friends
is better than any substance I have ever had the nerve to test
.
I was seeking to be lost,
In that journey I found myself
and composed this journal from said
L B Aug 2016
It was the time of my Auntie Bee summers
   I was small then
   She had a parakeet that landed on my head
   and a bathtub too
   with water so deep!
   and legs and claws!
   **** thing nearly chased me down the stairs!

She lived in slumbery Windsor Locks
   where bugs hung-out in the haze
   of teenage August
   I played in the tall weeds
   with a shoeless Italian boy
   who ate tomatoes like apples
   and cucumbers right off the vine!
   He was ***** free and foreign!
   We played— reckless, abandoned
   behind the gas pump, under the tractor, in the barn   
   and through the endless fields
   I didn’t know....
   His name was Tony
   I ate pizza with him—the first time

At Auntie Bee’s I had to go to bed at eight
   but I could watch night flowers
   bloom on wallpaper
   She came in to say good night
   slippered, shadowy, night dress slightly open
   and I peeped her *******!
   like Tony’s cucumbers!
   I had never seen my mother’s wonders....

Night spread its wings from the old fan—
   a bird of tireless exhaustion
   whipped, whipped, whipped to death in its cage
   tireless exhaustion
   tic-tocking in time to a wind-up clock
   stretched out on the whine
   of the overland trucks
   Route Five through the night of an open window

In the grape arbor below—
tremulous incessant
   crickets    crickets    crickets
tremulous incessant—insides of a child
   a summer child
   not yet ready for the fall of answers

Auntie Bee had a daughter—Maureen
   I followed her everywhere I could
   I was small then--    
   do anything for a stick of Juicy Fruit
I followed Maureen through my dreams
   of being sixteen
   and woke to Peggy’s “Fever”
   while she tied her sneakers
   against the mattress by my head

I followed Maureen (in my mind)
   tanned and bandanned
   to work in the fields of shade tobacco
   with all those Puerto Rican boys!
   She knew where she was going!

I was small then
...do anything for a stick of  gum

“Mauney! Mauney! Mauney!”
   ...through the goldenrod of roadside
   through the smell of oil that damped the dust    
I followed Maureen’s white shorts
   and chestnut hair...to the corner store
I followed the way the boys smiled
   the way the screen door slammed
   on her bright behind
   the way her lips taunted and took
   the coke-bottle’s green
I followed Maureen

I swear, I tried for hours to get that right!

Must have been Peggy Lee’s “Fever”

Maureen ties her sneakers in my face
Flaunts her years above my head
She has that look—
“We kids don’t know nothin”
(Little turds” that we be)

…followin’ Maureen
through the goldenrod of roadside
tic-tockin’, beboppin’

“Fever— in the morning
Fever all through the night….”
Peggy Lee's Fever:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b4hXyALR9vI
I was seven years old and did I ever get this!
Peggy Lee's stripped down performance is the epitome of ***.

Windsor Locks is in Connecticut.
mariamme Mar 2018
she collects thought
like seed pods blown
into untidy hair
by the four winds
that whisper her silenced name.
her thoughts are
precious black pearls
in forgotten oysters, washed
up on a beach somewhere-
and sometimes just as dark-
shining in the heat
of Summer Sun's
reflecting glare.
not unlike a
deer in the headlights
of an absent father's
old station wagon.
and she is as
broken as the
hoof-cracked windshield;
spider webbing
radiates through the glass
as sharp on the edges
as her mind.
coke bottle specs
with glass unbreakable
hide brilliance
or perhaps underscore it.
existence is itself
division from everyone else.
she reads Tolkien
by the empty light of
the distant moon
and words fill up
leftover spaces.
in her face is
the great face of
flower children and
sunlight muted
in the evening hours
spent dreaming up
a life better spent
a piece i wrote in high school <3
Kayla Swails Jul 2018
Can't fathom
The random
Rattle of rain
When I have
So much on my brain
Thinking through all this pain
Waittt

.
I'm not in pain
I'm just trying to rhyme
Sitting in my kitchen
Country listening'
Dandy as a lion
I ain't even lyin
I ain't even cryin
I'm enjoying myself
I'm smilin
How about you?
I hope you are too
Having a good day
Every day
It's the way
To play the game
There ain't no shame
In living easy
In living breezy
Don't take it too seriously
I mean seriously
Life is meant to be enjoyed
Don't matter where you're employed
Whether you listen to Pink Floyd
Or Vance Joy
If you're a girl
If you're a boy
Somewhere in between
Don't matter to me
All I hope
Is that you're dope
Don't do coke
Don't do drugs
Just give hugs
Just give love
And enjoy that life you're livin
That's my advice from my kitchen.
5-4-2017
Samm Smith Apr 23
What if Hell was actually nice?
Filled to the brim with coke and ice
With incense and spice in a little holding device

Cherries
Or is that blackberry?
Oozing
Diffusing
Mixing with sin
Abusing
Seducing

Now - the smell of gin, maybe candy?
He captures your soul with the promise of Brandy

The devil dances
flame advances
Once you're in Hell
there are no second chances

He advises you stay
entices you to play
Hands you a cup with some coke and some ice
"Darling," he says
"What if Hell was actually nice?"
William A Poppen Mar 2014
Fingers wrap around
cracked plastic steering wheel
of the forty-eight Ford
while curved glass bottles
of *** and coke
perch on the crest
of the dashboard.

I cup her left breast,
explore for
another short-lived feel
as my breath wrestles
with the scent of
lavender beneath her ear.

Tingles and beads of sweat
inter-mingle damp
on my collar.
My lips labor
toward her cheek
methodically
like a grandfather
ascending a steep stairway.

Her nylon-protected thigh
burns against my gabardines
kicking static electricity
off of sagging seat covers.

I fumble with the catch
of her bra against her back.

Parked here to spoon
feels better than
playing amateur baseball.
No audience
watches me
drop the ball
or toil to get
to second base.
Thursday night dances at the lake included a break for the band.
Lucius Furius Aug 2017
O Babylon! Your God is a sport-utility vehicle, a VCR, and a two-car garage!
You delight in images of killing and artificially-large-breasted women!
Your arteries are clogged with Big Macs and a thousand pieces of Kentucky-Fried Chicken!
Your God is Technology.  Your God is Progress.

Your skyscrapers rise to the heavens!  Your astronauts fly to the moon!
You clone sheep! alter genes! make a mountain into a parking lot!
Your fields flower!  Your grain-bins groan under the weight of the ripe corn!
But the land of your soul is a desolation.

O God of Henry Ford, the Wright Brothers, and Bill Gates,...
All the nations adore Thee!
(Pretty soon they'll be ordering Papa John pizza by cell phone in New Guinea....)
Your God is Mammon.

After the movies, after the Quarter-pounders-with-cheese, super-size fries, and a large Coke,
after the evening news, the Hostess cupcakes, golf, beers, and swimming 20 laps,
the hunger will be the same as the day you first felt it, O Babylon!
the thirst of the soul, O Babylon!
Hear Lucius/Jerry read the poem:  humanist-art.org/old-site/audio/SoF_068_babylon.MP3 .
This poem is part of the Scraps of Faith collection of poems ( https://humanist-art.org/scrapsoffaith.htm )
KiraLili Dec 2016
From across the bar I watched you text
You'd rest your chin on well manicured fingers
A tall double mixed with coke in front
After every send you smiled then sipped

Happy hour on a Friday and I wondered
Were you messsaging your lover about to come
Was it a friend or many chats
Why did it make you smile each time...
Edward Coles Feb 2017
The distant park
Was a graveyard of dead stars.
Each streetlight a system of worlds,
So many lives between each mote of light,
Indistinguishable in their unique love,
Bespoke hate, and the drama of the modern age.

Drunk laughter behind transparent
Double doors. Another hotel balcony,
Another cloud behind the canopy
Of marijuana eyes
To unsettle me from the crowd.

She points out, when you look closely
You can see the disorder
Amongst all constellations
Of life and love and litter;
Of discarded Coke cans
And temporary highs.

She says this is not a scene
To imbue the ****** of a present mind,
More to baulk at the incompletion
Of one thousand to-do lists;
A million reasons why
You should just stay inside.

She says you can see the human swell
Of ignorance, our city lights
Blotting out the stars
In a black ocean of broken politic
And irretrievable fault lines-
Divisions between us all.
Lives twisted with professional smiles
And eyes lit with stunning indifference.

Still, I have felt charity and warmth
On the doorstep of lunatics and fascists.
I have read the love of life
In faces of those who gave up.
I have recounted countless artists
Who saw beauty
In moments that precisely lacked it.

I have spent too many nights
In anaesthesia,
Fleeing each instance of feeling
And terror; all the tremors
That tell me I am still alive.

Continued to stare at the lights
Long after her voice
And the laughter inside had gone.

Heard waves in the traffic.
A world so large, so expansive,
It can never truly sleep.
Every broken heart,
Every war-torn land,
Every promotion,
Every one-night stand.

I wonder what would happen
If we all stood still.
If we all took one moment
To observe the motion
That unfolds beneath
Our static windowsill.

If we all took one moment
To recover our loss.
The wars that we won,
The feelings, forgot.
The hell we retain;
Our paradise, lost.
C
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