"dosed" poems
Beneath the bracing maple tree
Awaits a beau, pursued heart's key
Cold sweaty hands, timid was he
As if he's dosed with ecstasy
To woo this beautiful princess,
Hath played a fiddle effortless
Heart beats loud beneath pastel dress
Mind's been puzzled, soon she'll confess
She don't regret, she won't forget
For that so moment felt kismet
Will they be lovers? Make a guess,
It all depends if she said yes
Feb 23, 2019
Feb 23, 2019 at 9:37 PM UTC
Stirs its ashes and embers, its burnt sticks
An eye powdered over, half melted and solid again
Ponders
Ideas that collapse
At the first touch of attention
The light at the window, so square and so same
So full-strong as ever, the window frame
A scaffold in space, for eyes to lean on
Supporting the body, shaped to its old work
Making small movements in gray air
Numbed from the blurred accident
Of having lived, the fatal, real injury
Under the amnesia
Something tries to save itself-searches
For defenses-but words evade
Like flies with their own notions
Old age slowly gets dressed
Heavily dosed with death's night
Sits on the bed's edge
Pulls its pieces together
Loosely tucks in its shirt
4.4k
take sips sip sips
tumble down the flowers
bundled in white towels at
my rose hips
from raised graves
velvet hearse
sandstone paves
push away stones along way
soothe
change patterns
surprise
break the consonance
act-like defiance
it's harder than we thought
hurry
get back to the tower
don't choke on the pink powder
before I get there
complex lush
doesn't need any soldiers
off horse, of course
only I reside in these gardens
part my own lawns to my great gates
a dosed beast waits
and I must return
Aug 18, 2020
Aug 18, 2020 at 2:14 AM UTC
I feel a grim satisfaction as mud splatters on my white shoes.
What an appropriate metaphor for early adulthood.
My problems are not my own.
The sociological imagination has never
seemed so applicable.
We’ve all been dosed up
On dashes of passion,
splashes of intelligence
and just enough anxiety and depression
to approach existential nihilism and
We’re fed these lies of individuality but
We Know
we are only products of our youth and culture,
ones of many in the long production line
We claim
We are Art,
but We Feel
we’re just generated from streams of code,
prepared to fight to the death for
some algorithm that doesn’t even matter
And so I protest
I can’t just be a number
I am flesh and blood,
my knees are buckling under the
weight of this artificial perfection.
I’m not just a number,
My eyes are staring at the
the marks that
determine my worth, knowing
success is my only option
i am not just a number
My sanity is sinking and
drowning and
constantly fighting to stay afloat
But I am not just a number. -
My mind tells me I’m not making it--
How are these other people making it?
I’m determining my worth
on sets of standards that are as worthy as dust
And it is with these standards i am told
I am just a number.
I feel like
I can no longer speak
because I’ve been
shouting
at the top of my lungs
I AM NOT JUST A NUMBER
But my voice
is too quiet
And the world
is too loud.
I’m so tired of trying to be heard.
Yet these words still sound better
when I scream them,
not just scrawl them down
on scraps of paper.
for someone so happy
I'm so very angry.
for someone so happy
I'm so very sad.
Mar 1, 2016
Mar 1, 2016 at 4:01 PM UTC
*“Snow White” was her name
And dope was her game
The ring leader of seven
Which none will go to heaven
A magic mirror she kept
With an apple beside her bed
A mirror for snorting
An apple for pleasure
The ring she led
Of people so sad
“Doc” the pill mill doctor
With “Grumpy” who’s sad
“Happy” full of ecstasy
With “Sleepy” so high
“Bashful” wanting forgiveness
With “Sneezey” wanting to die
With ***** so happy
Because he’s high all the time
As the fronts not paid
“Snow White” was mad
Bit into the apple of pleasure
and
Over dosed instead*
Feb 13, 2015
Feb 13, 2015 at 9:52 PM UTC
stars racing towards a planet to hit
way to dosed to focused on this ****
the waterfall runs of orange and pink
Way too distracted, can’t even think
The sprits are running through the walls
getting kicked out of class, now I’m dreaming in the halls
the rabbits, the fishes can’t come to a stop
getting way to blown, I’m in front of a cop
jet planes flying the opposite way
guess I should’ve taken this tab another day
Sep 23, 2014
Sep 23, 2014 at 5:13 PM UTC
Woke up this morning with a screaming headache
It’s 6am and I have to be at work by 8am
Feeling like I didn’t get enough sleep but have I ever?
Say a short prayer, that should make it all okay
I clean up as fast as I can,
but not without hurting my gums while brushing
Maybe once I had something to eat, it would all be better
Opened the fridge and the crate of egg falls off, Hol’up
I wanted scrambled eggs but not in this manner for sure
Aaahhh, I need some tea even though coffee would be ideal
But I did run out yesterday. Sigh.
Water’s boiling and I’m trying to get some of it into a cup
But the kettle cover falls off and the hot water spills on my hands
Burning me; today surely isn’t my day is it?
Tea’s ready, but I’m running late now, so I’m taking it to work
Got into the car, humming a feel good tune and sipping tea
Returning the cup to the holder now and again
Then I hit an unfortunate gallop, and the tea spills all over the car
It’s exactly 7.30am and my whole day looks like the mess in the car
I get to the office, couldn’t clean up the car, traffic enroute, made sure
I was more than 5 minutes late; I sign the register before the lateness line
Is ruled; something relatively good yeah? Yeah?
I’m walking to my office door, and somehow the key to my office breaks as I’m
Trying to open the door, no kidding.
They say they will fix it later and I pitch in one of the other empty offices
I’m on my desk, slow day so not much to do
Loud crashing sound, I’m awake and hurting on the office floor
Cos apparently I dosed off and fell off my chair
It’s not until break time and even more, the absurd amusing gazes I’m getting
That I realize I’m wearing different legs from two different shoes colored differently
And of cos my pants got torn at the back from the fall earlier.
Imagine how I looked and to think the day was only half spent.
Where could I have possibly gone wrong today?!
Dec 20, 2016
Dec 20, 2016 at 5:02 PM UTC
And I solemnly swear
on the chill of secrecy
that I know you not, this room never,
the swollen dress I wear,
nor the anonymous spoons that free me,
nor this calendar nor the pulse we pare and cover.
For all these present,
before that wandering ghost,
that yellow moth of my summer bed,
I say: this small event
is not. So I prepare, am dosed
in ether and will not cry what stays unsaid.
I was brown with August,
the clapping waves at my thighs
and a storm riding into the cove. We swam
while the others beached and burst
for their boarded huts, their hale cries
shouting back to us and the hollow slam
of the dory against the float.
Black arms of thunder strapped
upon us, squalled out, we breathed in rain
and stroked past the boat.
We thrashed for shore as if we were trapped
in green and that suddenly inadequate stain
of lightning belling around
our skin. Bodies in air
we raced for the empty lobsterman-shack.
It was yellow inside, the sound
of the underwing of the sun. I swear,
I most solemnly swear, on all the bric-a-brac
of summer loves, I know
you not.
1.9k
A coffin came my way,
They said, therein you lay;
I could believe them nay,
Until they said they could flay;
Wild I went,
I could not vent;
The expression remaining,
Before it started draining;
I was no longer composed,
I had to be dosed;
You were ethereal,
This had to be surreal;
No enmity could matter,
When everything had shattered;
You had been battered,
When you had me flattered;
I can not apologise,
You have been baptized;
I seek not your forgiveness,
I need not your liveness;
For you’ll always be,
Right here, in my heart;
I woke up, to find you gone,
For EVER in your zone..
I need not repent,
For I have your scent;
Your memories alive,
Shall always thrive;
You were one of a kind,
Never out of your mind;
It is not cowardice,
For it requires courage;
It shall not be despised,
For it was your suffrage..
Jan 14, 2021
Jan 14, 2021 at 12:06 PM UTC
-
it's winter again and here we are, the same loop that caught me up in
your whirlwind last time now making home between your lungs as your head
rests against my shoulder and your face finds a place to nuzzle against my neck.
i wonder what's different as i watch your hand reach for mine and then i realize it's because
i learned to grow without you and grew without you from one long moon to the other.
-
when i called you a sunbird, i didn't mean a phoenix,
even though i didn't know it then.
see, it's been an entire year and i've learned how to create and swallow flames whole and stomp on
the ashes and even though i'd scattered yours and wished for you to rise
from them before, now i wish i'd dug my heels in a little better and cast them all aside
for good, buried you too far that you wouldn't be able to find me again, dosed and
dosed and dosed until there was nothing left of the scuff-mark under an ocean.
-
maybe i'm just bitter.
and some part of me loves it. it's a vicious part, who's still searching for that other half
and knowing now that it was never in your hands and even if it was, it's been passed off
and i won't find it with you.
great tragedies are written for stages of life, not the makeup of entire stories, and
i'm not about repetition. you already got your chapter.
-
there will be days that i start purely about me and that will end purely about me.
regardless of anything, i vow now, that i will make sure of this.
i will find (an)other boy(s) to sleep beside, just sleep beside, and i will love it and you will
hate it and i will love them. i'll be looking at them like i looked at you and you
will look at your phone each time it buzzes and hope it's me and
i won't even think to text you.
i will be selfish, ****** and karma encourages and assures me so.
-
i was willing to wait eternities.
i was willing to wade lava and tread air and hold my breath until you wanted but you chose to
snip the string that held me to your wrist and now i've found freedom in the sky and i feel
broken and torn and incomplete but infinite and i found all of this without you.
you're too impatient, and you keep wanting to 'prove to' me something you and i both know
doesn't exist. only children get mad for getting back what they'd already given out-
and i'm sorry that i'm not for not wanting to be with you.
-
i wish you didn't love me now.
-
i wish it wasn't so easy not to care.
Dec 19, 2015
Dec 19, 2015 at 2:51 AM UTC
I float on gin soaked nightmares
Yoked to the liquor like a babe to a bottle
Coaxed to sleep slowly, dosed on 70% proof
and with it the night's terror starts.
Gin addled, lying in sweat soaked sheets
Memories raise their heads above the parapet
These memories coaxed from their corners
Coerced by addiction.
My addiction I saw as a benediction
A positive to all the negative.
But my submission was not conviction,
it was hell and condemnation.
Now, my nightmares torment me,
like purgatory, no rest for the wicked,
the fallen, the flotsam and detritus of life.
Stricken I can only question....
What's it like to drift off quietly?
Not to wake with a scream trapped in your throat?
To count sheep instead of the faces of the long dead?
To slumber in peace, cloaked in love?
If you can answer these questions,
please let me know.
Pop a note in bottle and give it a throw.
If it washes up I'll let you know.
Jul 9, 2014
Jul 9, 2014 at 10:47 AM UTC
At first I wanted to just be friends
You were a shy girl
Not many friends
You tried to hide from the world
In that dark desolate corner you called home
I ended up getting too close
And falling in love with you
I couldn't help it
Your eyes sang a million songs
That made my heart beat to the rhythm of
Your smile aroused billions of butterflies
That fluttered in my stomach
Your laugh created chills
That crawled down my spine
You became the very essence of my poetry
Every line a curve of your body
Every stanza a feature elegantly placed on your body
Every metaphor a slight over exaggeration of your intense beauty
And every thing I wanted to do to you
I thought of every time I glanced in your direction
I wanted to tear the shirt from your chest
Kiss the pulsating veins in your neck
I wanted to feel the curves I wrote about
I wanted to taste every feature
I wanted to smell your perfume
That always seemed to arouse me
I wanted to hear the late night moans
Of your pure pleasure and enjoyment
I wanted to see that intense flame of ****** desire in your eyes
I wanted to embrace you when we were done
I wanted to stay and watch the sun kiss you good morning
I wanted to listen to your breathing slow as you slept
I wanted to love you in more ways than this
I wanted to please your every desire
I wanted to bring you out of the desolate lands of oblivion
I tried my best to love you
But when things got too serious
You abandon everything we ever had
You must of lied to me every time you said "I love you"
You must not have meant it
You used me for the pure desire of self happiness
You got high off my love
You almost over dosed on my ********
Yet you still had the audacity to walk away from it all
Everything I wanted to do to you
I told you
From taking you to watch the sunset in Arizona
To watching the sun rise on the great Pacific Ocean
I made you happy all the time
Yet you only found happiness in sulking in misery
You never wanted love
And you ran from it
Every time it kissed you
I built an empire for you
I built walls impenetrable by foreign enemies
When in all actuality your reason for allowing me to do so
Was to lock me out when you decided to flee
Yet you still find it hard to attend to the walls
As they start crumbling and eroding
Every time I smile
Every time I laugh
And it's not with you
You want me to pretend nothing ever even happened
Yet everything I wanted to do to you
I never hid from you
I was blunt and straightforward
I wanted you to be exited and surprised
When you saw the bill
When you saw how much happiness cost
It cost our love and friendship
So I hope your happy now
I hope your smile is real now
I wanted to be the reason for them
Now all I want to do to you
Is rip your throat out
For leaving my heart
Broken, bleeding, drunk off love, and at my feet
Everything I wanted to do to you
Went from romantic to homicidal
But I just can't find that level of hatred
To even pull it off
Simply because I still love you
Apr 12, 2013
Apr 12, 2013 at 11:31 AM UTC
They're such shiny chemicals:
Dopamine, Norepinephrine, Phenylethylamine.
Life shimmers,
and each day is painted with purpose
When dosed with such potency.
I would like to believe that love,
The long-lasting kind,
The one you're supposed to want,
The one that settles you,
Where you grow old and spend Wednesday evenings answering emails and rewatching some old baking show in ***** sweats
Is enough to keep life interesting.
But chemistry doesn't always work that way.
My path might dictate some other measure of wholeness,
And more than one type of love,
And more than a couched lookalike storybook ending.
My path may require
Risk, Adventure, Longing,
Questioning, Exploration, Pain,
Brilliant platonic wildfires,
Intellectual dalliances,
And unrequited amorosity.
In short, my path may require some trailblazing.
But this precious neural spark
In my body
That keeps me in love with love
Is mine to keep
For as long as it continues to shine.
Sep 9, 2018
Sep 9, 2018 at 5:49 AM UTC
No more long stares
spent phenol syringes fresh on the streets,
barbiturated ruffians riddled,
denizens lost into this killing machine,
over dosed on Laudanum yesterday's ***** with temerity to spare,
turns tricks down
tomorrow someone laugh and high kick her,
those new Barista Gangsters , their marketing strategy
stretches the mind,
enough to **** a healthy Ox.
Lean close and hear
this requisitioned block is a pleasure dome
suitable for gilded beautification.
Dec 15, 2012
Dec 15, 2012 at 2:02 PM UTC
*“Snow White” was her name
And dope was her game
The ring leader of seven
Which none will go to heaven
A magic mirror she kept
With an apple beside her bed
A mirror for snorting
An apple for pleasure
The ring she led
Of people so sad
“Doc” the pill mill doctor
With “Grumpy” who’s sad
“Happy” full of ecstasy
With “Sleepy” so high
“Bashful” wanting forgiveness
With “Sneezey” wanting to die
With ***** so happy
Because he’s high all the time
As the fronts not paid
“Snow White” was mad
Bit into the apple of pleasure
and
Over dosed instead*
Dec 4, 2014
Dec 4, 2014 at 11:11 AM UTC
Practically everyone fell to their knees at the sound of the whistle. Maszar glanced backwards at the iron rod pressed to his spine and the articulated expression of a misty thought-god that held the holographic weapon prisoner. He believed, and the sudden twitch of dendrites and synapses claustrophobicly trapped him inside of his head- - he began screaming, "too small, too small!" like it made a difference and scratched at the walls of his mind as the Queen of Deza Park dosed her way into the debate panel of his mind for an evening special of Into the Mist.
There wasn't much left to debate when she arrived- - the synapses were firing at one another, frightened warriors frantically snapping their own necks in unintentional combat or disillusioned by the unromance of war. Dendrites and neurons began to shoot themselves hard in the temple as the world swiveled into a whirlpool around them, thoughts crashing through the unprotected dam of the cerebral cortex and landing on the war torn beaches of repressed memory. Slowly, the chasm between Maszar's body and mind began to close- - revealing to the war torn gods the implicit unity within each explicit duality, swapping sanity for quick sand and comfort for faded lenses through which scratch marks created a tear in the space-time continuum.
If only.. was his second-to-last thought.
If only there was some way to measure the death erupting within me to see if..
was his last.
Oct 13, 2013
Oct 13, 2013 at 8:22 PM UTC
my arm is nothing more than an extension of my soul,
stretched parabola forming a straight line
towards heaven.
I stand on my soapbox with a sermon dangling
from my lips, this tired old street corner
this tired old man giving the world what it wants.
I am enlisted.
I am the bubble hidden deep
inside the bone.
I am the beekeeper creating a brand new colony,
stung by his own pride.
here, brother, listen:
walk with me while I tell you about the
accubation of life
and all of it's little lovers,
those tiny frail things so easily forgotten.
my tongue is nothing more than an extension of my mind,
soft, flattened, delightful
attracted to flavor.
a million spiders bred a million more,
and still their webs spread empty between the trees.
this is the way God works.
earthquakes,
tsunamis,
libraries engulfed in flames,
over-dosed artists,
a genius child sold into slavery.
we all become what we already are:
gentle creatures abacinated by society
fenced in and cornered by evil dreams.
we thrash in our sleep,
we wake violently,
we burst onto the scene like lions
from another planet,
hungry, oh so wild and hungry.
this is the way We work.
Mar 28, 2010
Mar 28, 2010 at 9:07 AM UTC
Once passed
Always alive
You Lou
Have me hypnotized.
Not a word
I have heard
Sounds more real
Than the ones
you've told
I too,
Have been
"Waiting
For the man."
Head up Lexington
And start lookin'
For a dear
Dear friend
Of mine;
But mostly
For that one,
Quick, fix.
Soon after
****** hits
And I too
Am dosed,
I - don't - know.
My only
Wonder now is
If a smack
Syringe can be
As good as
It sounds at
This moment
Jun 23, 2014
Jun 23, 2014 at 12:08 AM UTC
Say goodnight,
with tmazi-pan.
Cos I'm dosed up,
on val- I -am.
Need one thing,
to make me dream.
A real good,
benzo diaza-pene.
Can't find this.
Can't find that.
Don't know where,
my head is at?
Lost my cash.
Lost my keys.
Can someone ******
tell me please
Where I live.
And who I am.
Cos I'm messed up,
on val-I-am
(c) mandyrigby and P Skez 21/01/2014
May 1, 2014
May 1, 2014 at 10:35 AM UTC
No, I let them come & go,
consistently riding that
endless wave of ephemerality.
Parade on in,
Provoke! Provoke!
I’ve got hours upon hours
to spend, delicately tracing
the hopes & hard-ons of young men.
By midnight, the cathartic compostion
is unravelling or rotting
& I’ve got my hand
down his pants,
hoping to call forth that
Saint-Lazarus sleeping at my core
Oh yes but how I do like you so,
said I, drowning in clouds
& flying through the bottoms of
sticky plastic cups
It wasn’t the truth
but God knows, I wasn’t lying
I would love to love you
I get utterly intoxicated
when you let me swallow your smile,
whilst you’re sleeping in my eyes.
It’s just that,
I only know to project my dreams
and lie awake,
melting beneath the cowardly heat.
Oh it lives on, the stiffling tension
of a fool with a thousand feelings
and a limited vocabulary.
Beware,
I must admit
there isn’t much beauty to be found
as I left my courage far behind,
in spring,
in a bedroom,
inside some other vacuole of desperation
and he fed it to the birds.
These days,
my declarations are dosed,
I keep my tongue on a leash
and my chest begets a cage.
I crawl inside my mind
and close many a door.
Dec 18, 2013
Dec 18, 2013 at 1:02 PM UTC