"doping" poems
Gendering Woman *******
Beautiful, anatomical part // Ugly, anatomical part
Natural, pleasurable // Burdensome, loathsome
Female Symbolic // Femme Symbolic
MALIGNANT HEALTHY
fearful, tearful, wretched // joyful, hopeful, euphoric,
bereft, wept, grieving // embryonic, rapt, relieving
leaving, loss // believing, gain
m a y b e - d e a t h r e - b i r t h
BI-LATERAL
MASTECTOMIES
Operating Theatre
SURGEON ANAESTHETIST
cleaning/ cutting/ knife/ scalpel // doping/ unconscious/ airway
blood / tissue // hypotension
loss/ damage // shock
drains // sinus rhythm
stitches // pain deadening
tight binding // reversal drugs
POST-OPERATIVE
a l i v e a w a k e
draining, bound & stitched draining, bound & stitched
DRAINED
~ UNBOUND
-- UNSTITCHED –
Empty chest Flat Chest
FREEDOM from Disease FREEDOM from Dis-ease
© M.L.Emmett
May 19, 2016
May 19, 2016 at 12:28 PM UTC
Mind is a super computer they say.
It can think of millions of stuff in a matter of day.
From the bombings in Iraq,
to the hurt in my best friends heart.
From the moment its up,
It never stops,
To stop. Blink or breathe.
It keeps running at night.
The subconscious consumes power.
Often leaving the mind tired at the break of dawn.
When it meets people,
it reads the signs at many levels.
Subject of talk,
Body language.
Positivity of the vibes,
The way the person jives.
A handshake.
A wink.
A hug.
A swiftly made jug*
It notices everything.
In all this processing.
It accumulates a lot of clutter!
And the mind with all the confusing thoughts,
becomes like hot butter!
Sparks fly like an electronic of fire!
And it needs something to distract it.
What works best is a bit of exercise.
A bit of chattering,
Or writing it all out.
Some find solace in Games or Movies.
Why do they work?
Because they engage all senses,
And make the mind groovy.
Smoking and doping do great too.
But reducing the processors of our mind to grade two!
Hallucinating and dreaming 80% of it.
The mind thinks its being more productive that most of it.
But illusions destroy us further.
Making the mind believe it’s just another wonder.
Wonder though it is.
Using only 10% of it we create,
Science, History, Mystery,
But this wonder has a lot on bate.
If it goes in the wrong direction.
Even thinking too much is an addiction!
Original thoughts are like endorphins to the mind.
Making it jump and do cartwheels inside.
Stimulating discussions are named that way,
Because engaging in one makes us jumpy all day.
It satisfies the mind that,
I have done something constrictive besides,
Whiling my days in sorrow,
and waiting for the morrow.
Mind is like a baby that need attention,
if not given that it runs in all directions.
Mind is a super computer that needs,
the dedication of a programmer.
Be that programmer and feed your mind the right numbers,
And see it become the eighth wonder!
*Jug- short for juggle.
Jun 1, 2013
Jun 1, 2013 at 2:51 PM UTC
I woke up one day
And I rode far away
And when I came back
A few weeks late
i decided to shape
up
or else, its a long ride
down
How often do you walk home?
Or should I say struggle
Distances are more attainable
In mixed up situations
I am too deeply rooted in thought
on the topic of meditation
To help this patient
I am inhabiting
Enter: ************* bicycles
I used to find
Walking uphill
And walking downhill
Equally awful
The climb to the top
Is worth the fast ride down
The topic of how many hills
are around
And how often we choose to climb them
Will not play in this ballgame
Because cycling is a sport
blood doping is dope
breaking news:
Livestrong sponsors the pope
Without a helment
You would tell me I look ****
As I ride with no hands
Don’t worry darlin’
I knew my hair looked good too
Drinking whiskey at home you can make art
I made that without you
It all came out of my mouth
And nostrils
Without you
I will puke again
Without you
Its true
Rough mornings aren’t new
their usually rough
without you
Only because my will is strong
And if I didn’t livestrong
My will - still will included you
Only if I died on someone else’s terms
(spoiler no such thing)
In an alternate universe
You could be on my bike
And I’d be ****** cold sober
And when that bus hit me
My mom wanted to give you
what belonged to me - the one thing
That survived the accident
Ask a few old friends I survived a few
Whether you knew
Or not
were on it or off
Always on the bottom
Jake
Was a snake
Before I met him
That’s Kona bike history
Living on
Without me
As I age I am learning
To be loyal
To all sorts of objects
like bikes
And women
that own them.
Withholding
without me
I can't see what it would be
like without me -
But lets be honest
Its not so as much about the bikes
As it is about bliss
i've seen what its like without you
It true
If a bus ran over my *** tomorrow
The first thing it would break is my heart
You could start
The day I stopped
Riding my bike
Apr 27, 2013
Apr 27, 2013 at 3:35 AM UTC
obviously to think and enjoy it
you have to turn your mind
into a mollusc in an oyster shell,
slow... slow... (yawn)... slower...
then you suddenly get electrocuted!
boom! now you're thinking,
you're not as tense as a running
cheetah, hard rock heart muscle,
not too eager on karaoke of karate,
you're the tortoise outrunning
achilles; because the brain enables
such functioning, it's not exactly
an eager heart in the university of
the body - and why is it that domestic
life has completely succumbed to
the gratifications of chemistry with
toothpaste and bleach and other
cleaning materials; i wouldn't
be against doping athletes, i'd tell them
to embrace it... let's synthesise another
world record sprint in the olympics,
because an analysis would mean
talking about 9.58 / 9.51...
and that would be as interesting as looking
at the rosetta stone for clarification
of ancient egyptian: owl, big fish, little fish
carbohydrates boxed;
and still a flea could outrun you,
a flea, yeah, never mind the cheetah.
Mar 25, 2016
Mar 25, 2016 at 5:46 AM UTC
Lee was posted up in in usual spot
back by the stacks,
with his phone on life support.
Its umbilical cord was knotted up like a nest,
and held together by electrical tape.
It sat next to his vape
box and a stack of books
about the GED, twenty-fist century
side hustles and back issues of Ebony.
People come in and out of the library
and everyone says hi to Lee,
He is the man to see,
He asks about their lives and gives sage advice –
How you been, my man?
How’s the kids doin’, girl?
How’s married life treatin’ you, my dude?
My man, you gotta do this.
Babygirl, look into that.
Don’t wear your hat like that,
Boy, ya look silly.
Lee lives in a van
that he parks nearby
so he can job-hunt on the free wifi
even when the place is closed.
If you feel sorry for me, don’t
says Lee
I’m the freest now I’ll ever be,
so, don’t you dare take pity on me
I’m doing all I can do,
being all I can be.
Everything’s temporary.
Tomorrow I could be you,
you could be me
we’re just one bad day,
one scratch-off lottery ticket away
from swapping places, my man.
Yeah, I live in that van
parked outside the library
but if you think I’m sad,
you’re thinking wrong,
Won’t see me moping, or doping
floating along
you won’t see me frowning,
or drowning,
singing a sad song.
I’m happy with all that I got
who wouldn’t wanna be in my spot,
I’m The King
of the Library Parking Lot.
Aug 23, 2019
Aug 23, 2019 at 1:17 PM UTC
Blackest nights and hearts of hearts
As the feeling hits my bones
Vast illusions take their hold
Welcome evil to its throne
Embrace the stars that guide my fate they've often burned when I arrive too late
It seems I'm running in a vector leading myself back to what I hate
I picked the crown from all the roses, chose to drown yet dreamt of floating, spending precious time just hoping, loves a drug so now I'm doping, heart so broken no use coping, all this ink black blood is flowing, spilling from my tongue it stains the ground pollutes the mud
Wasted words, from wasted tongues I think I've fallen out of love and now this freedom cuts me open just to rip out all these pieces, voices, words, and thesis I've been Clinging to this life, God should just hand me the knife, I'll carve myself a new beginning.
Stab myself with a thousand needles to drive it home once more that there is no growth without pain and from me all the hues of red and black come pouring out in a catharsis of the self inflicted damage I've pursued in the twisted notion that accepting this pain will leave me with nothing left to lose and everything left to gain but as it turns out the gods were never so cruel and never so kind as to let me weather the entire storm to prove to myself that I was truly alive.
No.
No.
Take me, break me, shatter my illusions, drive my mind into confusion, take from me everything I hold true and run it through the strainer that's
you, God of wisdom take my hand and drag me through the burning sands, and take from me right as I bleed through every wound you set me free, crush my faith, tear out my eyes, if I don't make it death is fine, gifted wisdom from divine, is worth this anguished mortal life, show me death and show me light, show me plenty show me strife, cast upon I beg of thee, make me listen make me free.
Sep 9, 2021
Sep 9, 2021 at 10:11 AM 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
sheesh
our session is paltry
taking hits betwixt talk
we've taken hits, how many have walked
or just simply dropped
from doping to coke
smoking and joking
over the line with too many tokes
our time's coming too
though we know not when
we'll go too
in the end
Jul 20, 2021
Jul 20, 2021 at 1:03 PM UTC
Caressing, laughing
Cause you felt the stars
in her galaxy
Loving, smiling
Cause you felt your heart
twinkle with happiness
Lonely melodies
Cause you felt empty
without his touch
Sharing, posting
Cause you felt inclined
to open up
Crying, hating
Cause you felt your heart
broken into pieces
Doping, puffing
Cause you felt the urge
to numb your pain
Crawling, running
Cause you felt the need
to move forward
Hoping, praying
Cause you felt God
Pulling you closer
Jul 16, 2017
Jul 16, 2017 at 1:36 AM UTC
I asked the love inside me
to sleep but not to die.
To fly like swallows at sea,
give me peace,
but please,
be homesick.
I asked the love inside me
to relent it’s doping up
like an Indian Luna
discarding the moon
for daylight.
I asked would it be stoic,
Drown the sun for just a day
and hang dark over street-signs
that have anagrams of her name
or point to wherever she sleeps.
I asked the love inside me
to keep the love-bites
in my capillaries
lest they phosphoresce
like the backs of cuttlefish.
I asked would it be patient
to shine them later,
as inkblots, reminding me
of what the softness
of her lips can do.
I asked the love inside me
to remember and not to hope.
Keep our room everlasting
alight with music,
and like my love,
my own.
there’s lipstick kissed filter tips
and roaches made from textbooks
littering the ash-hardened carpet.
The lift of bra strings over collarbone
tracing a mole
meeting like the Saone and Rhone there.
Hungover afternoons
where the heat stays asleep in the air
circulating with our radiance
as if our hearts fill the whole space.
The time moves glacially
like we’re children
having nothing to compare it with
but the length of hair
and the states of cliff faces.
Two stillborns
meeting in the afterlife.
The first time
and the last time
and all the love in between
is alive.
Mar 12, 2016
Mar 12, 2016 at 5:31 PM UTC
Said I was, then I wasn’t
Tossed my photo id
99 on the interstate
Forgot my home address
This or last years birthdays
Cerebral teasing, electrical wheezing
Coughing up candy colored viscous mixtures
Pain pills, strange ills, black tar rapt
Plastics wax kid cradle doping until fatal
Sipping succulent sups from yang’s ladle
Freak streaks bisect mind-framed societies
Claim lives and blind young eyes
Perhaps its an exaggerated fable
More able however an argument for contrast
Long-lived mobile monument smoke stacks
Toothless twelve year old flashing crack caps
Slow know elapse forgotten hats blown home
Always sixty seconds to go, cool clock interlock
Alleyway temple made meek street ever bleak
Folly is an empty spoon, children’s cartoons
Wall starter, void walker, treble swelled neurotic
Creeps dream witchcraft borderline hypnotic
Say it was before it wasn’t
Mar 12, 2013
Mar 12, 2013 at 7:54 PM UTC
I've got the rhythm, but don't look anythang like a Nashvillian soul
Been living on the streets, so I ain't been on any **** census role
I'm not my mother's natural birth child, without any apology
But I’m god’s chosen and gifted, finger picking, guitar prodigy
Sun lights up the whole **** town, whilst it's still night-time
So, save your smoke doping act, 'til the dark of the daytime
CUCKUK, CUCKUK, cruisin' down some unnamed highways
That's what y’all be not knowin', 'bout da Tennessee ways
My Mama once said, just do your music or do something else
So, I'm legally insane and uncomfortable to be with, I guess
I don't actually see myself living anywhere forever
But, how'd ya know, that you've actually arrived, wherever
Sun lights up the whole **** town, whilst it's still night-time
So, save your smoke doping act, 'til the dark of the daytime
CUCKUK, CUCKUK, cruisin' down some unnamed highways
That's what y’all be not knowin', 'bout da Tennessee ways
If they don't ever remember the month or day, since leaving
Families gettin' together, telling lies, now police intervening
I sometimes have to forget that I wrote it, to be able to like it
As long as fans think dope of it, why bother to disable the ****
Hoed fresh corn all day, everyday, been up since the crack of dawn
Pretty plenty of backyard swamp talkin' catfish, have since been born
Sun lights up the whole **** town, whilst it's still night-time
So, save your smoke doping act, 'til the dark of the daytime
CUCKUK, CUCKUK, cruisin' down some unnamed highways
That's what y’all be not knowin', 'bout da Tennessee ways
He'd hit a rabbit a sittin' and killed it with the barrel of his gun
While the dang hammer was a peckin' a wild hog to death
Like gettin' outta control and hardly takin' a shot of breath
Or being a drunken redneck, on a 7 day weekend hillbilly whiskey run.
Sep 24, 2019
Sep 24, 2019 at 10:48 PM UTC
Perfectly imperfect,
I like your quirks.
Hair as smooth as chocolate gelato,
my boy from Montescaglioso.
Skin ain't bright like a tangerine (though you're sweet as one),
but as dark as the moon who married the sun.
Almond shaped eyes,
blaze without doping.
Arctic Monkeys were right,
I could't stop dreaming about you nearly every single night.
And that smile,
that god awful smile that releases like Frank's albums,
without even realizing that you're taking me with the tide.
Sometimes the world forgets to notice but,
Ti ricorderò per sempre
I will remember you forever
Oct 22, 2016
Oct 22, 2016 at 9:34 PM UTC
Where do I begin?
Should it be at the height of fog hours,
doping up infallible images of affection,
among sifting smugness,
end over end in my sun-stroke mind?
Should it be it all tore down from closed doors,
every imperfection, every cyst, reworked by
some sort of Mortician,
consumed by grandeur for his practice?
Or should it be at the exact
moment
that all was realized– astuteness to
how fragile every meter of my unused offal really is?
Second to sick second, and day to well day,
all woven itself into a tapestry thats harder and harder to recall
Sew the squares, and caress the texture with tips of printless fingers
Each inch calls– no, howls –out into the basin where I sit
Howls of pain
howls of stone
howls of criticism
howls of analysis
ripping through the brail that's sung to the bone
Tell to beg, where do I begin?
Nov 23, 2012
Nov 23, 2012 at 12:19 AM UTC
They always comes first
everything comes first
the meds, the doctors, the hospitals
the bleeding, the bruising, the fracturing
the screaming, the despersonalization
the doping, the doping, the doping,
and then me.
why me after all this
why not me before the first medication?
i wonder
and wonder
and wonder
and i've come to a conclusion
that i'm way too ******* selfish
you've got a life &
you need to care take of it
before you try to
call me & notify me
about your
doping
and
your life
and your
pain,
but through all
of this
all i feel
is the pain of waiting
too,
don't you see?
it's me, waiting for you
here.
Jun 29, 2014
Jun 29, 2014 at 4:09 PM UTC
With a thunderstorm at your finger tips
You've peeled the side of my neck with your lips
I've never felt anything like this sin before
I could feel the electricity run through my body
As I realized I needed you..
Like my blood cells need my veins.
Our throats always swollen from fear of yelling more, so we whispered lies as they burned the back of our tongues.
Hoping to heal our decapitated hearts. Pounded by the butcher of love
We were nothing if not completely raw those days.
Now we wish for someone to hold us under the sheets while some ****** movie plays but we can't help being ***** little ****** and tasting everyone the world has to offer, and yet...
I still can help but wish for sleepless nights by your side.
So I'll be doping myself again with pointless regrets, off of worthless memories that mean little more than the hateful meaning I give them.
Now I'm just hanging.... bleeding.
From the barbed wires of life.
Watching
Waiting
Hoping.....
Jan 28, 2021
Jan 28, 2021 at 1:58 PM UTC
I don't have any photos of when I was young
because they look like Chronos holding a gun
I just need slow-mo or time totally undone
or maybe I just need to hold onto someone
because I can't hold on to the before
after bombing all my bridges with C4
so now I walk on the sea floor
wishing I could see more
but all I see is myself as an aquatic gorilla
after spending too much time with Poseidon
precariously between Charybdis and Scylla
as pictures make me look more like Joe Biden
while I feel like I'm the one with the trident
but I'm just Janus' migrant
and that guy is a tyrant
because no matter which way he's facing
he can always find someone to replace me.
So I don't ever take pictures
because they give time a fixture
from which to taunt me like a trickster
showing me the different colors in the mixture
like a lowkey Loki
giving me the okie-dokie
luring me into moseying moping
leisurely leading to rope-a-doping
a mirror-morphed bizarro-me dope fiend
wanting to stay in a Kumbhakarna dope dream.
Time is a sausage link
clogging the gothic sink
of a drain we all would think
seems as fast as goblin's wink
so I try to focus on the myopic pink
but always end up finding reasons to drink
the ambrosia of a nova from Krakatoa
the ebbs and flows come and go with intensity
brought by the power of Jehovah
as well as two cameras with which I can see.
Aug 20, 2023
Aug 20, 2023 at 9:52 PM UTC
It was all love only ..doping
All new sweet mesmerizing
Hopeful fulfilling
Happy Promising
The time twisted the tale
Good proved as evil
Heaven turned into hell
Angel became devil
Now no love just anger
Hurt hurt and more hurt
Disappointment emptiness
Hopelessness n regret
This is my twisted love story..
Yes this is my twisted love story..
Apr 8, 2017
Apr 8, 2017 at 2:15 PM UTC
And have you ever heard how poppies smell?
They are so huge, so wild, so ruby-colored!
They're summer harbingers, the lights of fields!
They are so thrilling, brave and so uncovered!
These poppies easily can put you to the sleep
Or even **** you with no difficult at all!
They're real flashes, doping! They're taboo!
They're passion, craziness and sin in whole!
And have you ever heard how poppies smell?
They are as red as real blood itself!
No? You haven't heard it? Oh, it's sad. You know,
That's how heartfelt and true love just smells.
Mar 15, 2025
Mar 15, 2025 at 5:40 PM UTC
Affection was a game she played better than any other
With perfection inherited from her mother
She was a hard kisser some called a heartless *****
But I understood, she was a sweeper on pitch
She knew how to dribble and show up to the occasion
And did whatever she could to win without minding the possession
But had an eye for perfection that made her look hot
So was every attempt on goal she shot
She never missed her target and always held her gadget
There was this one lad with whom she couldn't bury the hatchet
He was a defender she had never beaten
Whose dimes seemed delicious but she'd never eaten
She wanted to be a cougar but he made her a purring kitten
For each time she faced him she would easily get beaten
Although she believed that someday she'd win
Even if it meant camouflaging in a veil of Gin
Though she feared that would risk charges of doping
The alien emotions he raised within her were shocking
He had a way of rolling his tongue making her feel young
And with hardly nothing like air in her lungs
She was the best player she had ever come across
But he was a rambling bridge she dared not to cross
Nov 3, 2015
Nov 3, 2015 at 4:18 PM UTC
the Übermensch anomaly was short-lived
in Europe, it was never going to be an
idea with a survival instinct for longevity
in Europe, just like Copernicus became
defamed by Galileo...
the Übermensch idea was prescribed to America,
what with their Superman and Batman,
and Spiderman... Nietzsche didn't
include America for a reason, you could
speak of Emerson as the zenith of American
intellectual output as the reason,
but that's hardly a reason...
tourists to the Caribbean will know,
Americans think they're super-human...
i hate the American accent, it's like a mosquito
buzzing in my ear, i just call them
the spaghetti swindlers of tongue, gluttonous
harp players... and because Nietzsche didn't
mention America, America is his most fertile
and therefore most arable landmass...
i mean... Nietzsche reached pop culture status,
just because he didn't mention American culture
in his writing... and that's how the Americans
see themselves, the righteous inheritors of
the post-Nazi mindset... Übermensch Staaten Amerika...
hence the reason they're on the gold medal leader boards
at the Olympics... i.e. if those ******* aren't doped
then i'm doped...
not doping athletes makes chemists redundant,
dope the whole lot of them, let's make it fair.
yes, i know it should have been written as staaten,
but i like my diacritical arithmetic, and given the
umlaut, i count that as a hidden extra a... so from
staaten into stäten;
oh yeah... and **** your "perfect" teeth;
or the Penguin cover for Philip K. Dick's
man in the high castle, the red & white stripes
with 50 swastikas.
Aug 18, 2016
Aug 18, 2016 at 8:21 PM UTC
It doesn't matter how many days
Pass before my eyes
I find new, better ways
To let myself die
I quit smoking, I quit drinking, I quit running, I quit thinking
Tomorrow finds new time
To keep my *** alive
I'll search a hundred lifetimes
Before I let it go
I find new, better ways
To carry on the show
Started joking, started laughing, started crying, started doping
Tomorrow finds new time
To bury my *** alive
A cause is a substitute heartbeat
Keeps the way pure
I find new, better ways
To develop a cure
Quit loving, Quit fighting, Started Sleeping, Started Writing
Tomorrow finds new time,
Don't make me stay alive
Jun 19, 2013
Jun 19, 2013 at 1:48 AM UTC
From stars to cars and bars of all kinds,
I snarl of wreaths that paraded mankind,
Which once gargled me in a brawling growl,
But it will no longer howl
No more.
Forgotten
Sootened,
They lay in
Blackened
Lying
Ice of Cold and Tremors
Murmurs of sore nerves
Of Cold chills
spine-wrenching curves
I have no remorse.
Whining groins to pawning reigns,
I gwaah at sheaths made of chatoyant neighs
It once skewed in me a featherly meow
Lest I forget the breeze
And howl into that ol’e reprise.
Mar 11, 2018
Mar 11, 2018 at 3:06 AM UTC
You be like my tats under my skin, complaining like a ***** because that's exactly where you been, chilling with ******* and you irritating me, got the Ralph Lauren on move, so vicious, doping down with girls who like the swish swish, rolling up my wood, blow an ounce to this as we all should, pull up on you, with brr brrr from in the skrrt skrrrt doing as I do, ***** I been a promo, keep it on the low low but I can't never not be your homie, let's roll up dope go out back and take a smoke, and now you trashass ******* keeping up with me but I'm making no switches, drop top out for burnt out count, but I never make a fuss, ***** I ain't never make a sound, try to never flex out more, you out looking like a clown, you wanna silence me, well good luck with that I'm still to be found, other rappers see me blowing gas as I surpassed you, you see I take that feeling and I cut it through, I'm always on the go, always on the move, and I got the champagne flu, we mix it with the orange juice, pockets so big but can barely hold my brews, taste of mango, lost in the polo, now I'm rolling solo, to you I blow over, never stop the best work working on it 24/7, pimping my fakeass motor, still looking for my heaven, now I guess it's gone, head back to my residence, try find myself out, I'm the counterintelligence, ballin like a laker, like a baker, but I ain't cooking dough, nothing for now but check my flow, can work this like it's nothing, all you ******* can't mess, I'm strawberry fluff'in, have a 1000 ******* and I never bluffing, rocking my shift cos I came from nothing, now I got on the gucci socks in the bathtub, everyone lil bit jeason but that's the thing, you know it's 15 years and that ain't no discussion...
Aug 17, 2018
Aug 17, 2018 at 2:04 PM UTC