"junky" poems
You didn’t realise just how easy
it was to slip
how you can lose track
lose count and how quickly
a habit can become addictive
Once you get the taste for the hit
you find yourself reaching for it
and before you know it, you’ve slipped
into a dependency - fortunately
this time you’re only a *****
for Lemsip
Jun 7, 2022
Jun 7, 2022 at 4:50 PM UTC
Who knew that getting a Starbucks gift card would turn out so harmful and mean.
When pleasant, harmless, innocent me fell for the spell of treacherous caffeine.
Like a hype with a spike
doing harm to his arm
I was hooked.
Leaped before I looked,
goose was cooked.
Now I'm here to play the blame game.
Innocent me, walking in free, joyfully,
just getting a coffee.
Then wham!
or should I say bam!
It hit me.
I walked out a quivering, craving, slobbering creature...
maybe not literally but like I said it was done treacherously, maliciously, instantaneously, I was a caffeine *****
So here are some of the reasons why I'm unhappy with Starbucks:
--- Starbucks caffeine influenced my body by elevating my heart rate (I'm not sure why I expected anything different).
--- Starbucks crafty, subtley and slyly habitualized me ( Oh god, I'm a creature of habit!)
--- Starbucks (If possible) is too friendly
--- Starbucks manipulated my accommodating nature (I just wanted to be friends, but now they feel more like, dare I say it... family).
--- Starbucks slandered me ( by assuming I'm lazy. "Sit, relax, make yourself at home, stay as long as you like").
--- Starbucks exposed my weaknesses ( l feel naked to coffees influence).
--- Starbucks made coffee hip and cool (I'm going to go ahead and count that as a bad thing).
--- Starbucks crippled my will power (my will power walks with a limp now).
--- Starbucks blew up the sun!
--- And the final reason I'm unhappy with Starbucks...because they're probably going to sue my *** for writing this!
May 13, 2018
May 13, 2018 at 4:44 PM UTC
Thugs with Pens & Aerosol Cans
Thugs with Pens
Hell-bent; not on cultism
Just airing the other sentiments
That don’t make it to primetime
Thugs with pens
Not poking out eyes
Just venting spleen
Sick of the lies
Thugs with pens
Deserve to be heard
They don’t poison your brain
With stacks of *****
Thugs with pens
And aerosol cans
Can change your mind
In ******* time
Thugs with pens
Can make a dent
They don’t need to insert
Un-readable, un-interesting
Covert small print....
Thugs with pens
Don’t need no script writers
Or advisors nor signatories
Witnesses, nor dodgy men
With gold plated fountain pen nibs
To make amends
Or throw in no hidden clauses
That secretly **** your life blood
Thugs with pens
Don’t aim to pierce your skin
But make their mark
Deeper within
Thugs with pens
And aerosol cans
Completely uncensored
champions of free speech
The establishment want suppressed,
silenced, deleted; terminated.
Thugs with pens
And aerosol cans don’t
Schedule meetings
To fix the minutes
And schedule another meeting
And keep ‘minutes’
As square angled
And unproductive
As formal conversation
Thugs with pens
Aim venomous ink
At headless politicians
That squawks like chickens
Bending over
For the *************
Bank-beefing corporations,
Controlling the masses
With ***** little catchphrases
And mounds of munitions
And illegally enforced restrictions
On your movement and free expression
Honest men
Have nothing to fear
From Thugs with Pens & Aerosol Cans
These “thugs” seek asylum
From countries
Where the law’s
Not bought and bent
Thugs with pens & aerosol cans
Are made to wear monikers and masks
Thugs with pens
Don’t turn on its own
Neighbours and citizens
To perpetuate myths:
A ****** ************* lie…
A thing that never happened!
(That’s for all of you dumb wits
out there
Who believe most of the ****
That’s drip fed
Your sensation addicted minds
Most of the time,)
Time you started reading between the lines
In fact get a pen
Or an aerosol can
Write your own lines
Start broadcasting
Reclaim your space
Before you’re completely neoned
Into the shade
And corralled under the spell
Of a TV screen
Or an anger raising headline
That conducts the flow
Of the status quo
Load up your magazines
With ball point pens
And sharp edged writing nibs,
Strap on a belt of aerosol cans
Reclaim your right to free expression
In public spaces
Join the rag-tag army
Of intuitive
Self-knowing men
The End: is well begun,
George Orwell
Should never have written
That blueprint,
‘1984’
Mar 25, 2013
Mar 25, 2013 at 8:59 AM UTC
right now
sacrifice is fueling opportunity
an opportunity to breathe
with an uninterrupted purpose
the corruption of our native soul
stop nourishing it
by constructing whiteness
sacrificing ethnicity
for the temporal indulgence
adrenaline *****
torturing
intensity of dissociation
hallucinating whiteness
the worst drug ever manufactured
forced upon our children
intricate delicate
vulnerable violence
tripping
stumbling
dissociating from an eternity
of survival of the most cooperative
deterring
forgetting
intoxicating
for a moment
momentum of ******
Sep 8, 2018
Sep 8, 2018 at 5:37 PM UTC
Nudge a numb cockroach and he'll love you for life
just ***** little lemonheads
can't actually survive a nuclear explosion
but can cause catastrophic evolutionary queries
like "Why do the good die young?"
Can you believe
that long ago only the bad died elderly
and were witches with elixirs
potions and spells to make God blush and his **** turn to mush
so powerful
they made people go crazy with
judgement and micromanaging
but I'm the real witch
right-o I ride broomsticks and eat toads for snacks
my back is a lump of coal from the Devil's morning hookah
smoke billows from my ears
cockroaches my best friends
we cut off our heads and run into fridges
my pelvis is frigid except
for those **** roaches.
May 30, 2012
May 30, 2012 at 6:43 PM UTC
Pillow Talk-
I want to hold you tonight-
I want to consume and make love to you all night-
I want to kiss your lips and caress your hips-
Show you how your love gives me a ***** fix-
I just want to pillow talk-
See your eyes light and conversation spark as bodies lay in the dark-
I want to grow to know you-
Your tender ways-your loving grace-bless my days-baby stay-
Lay with me tonight-
Candles burn-My body yearns for all of your insight-
Lay fright at the door and allow my body inside yours-
Tonight is for lovers to soar-
And I adore the seconds that pass-And I grasp everything in my path-
This beautiful women maybe perhaps will be the one to outlast my everyday man crap-
Because the beat moves are passion-Sweating bodies pumping in compassion-
How fast and beautiful actions send attraction to the mental state of relaxing and all I am asking is for you to stay tonight-
Nothing more-
Just tonight-
Like I said before-this is for lovers to soar-
Making love till the sun breaks the shore and in the morning-Baby-we could do it some more-
And then we could pillow talk alone-
Conversations of life deeper than the baritone-
And tonight my body is your home-Saturated against each other in a zone-
Truth be told-
This is the greatest love I have ever known-
And I don’t want to let it go-
Because you are so beautiful-
And tonight is for lovers to soar-
So let’s pillow talk-
By:
Richard Itskovich
Jul 28, 2010
Jul 28, 2010 at 11:35 AM UTC
With wings like barn doors, perched upon the tower and scathing
The king fell, the Earth moved and let him drift slowly to death
Bukowski on the bedpost sang rosy melodies through tin can headphones
and the daffodils of a thousand fields wilted at the news of her death
Needles fall from the junky's arms, a rain drop escapes
Coca-Cola bottles strewn on a green carpet, smooth under foot
and the festival casualties drift aimlessly to their scorching cars
Pills fall from pockets as a forlorn criminal collects coins
The clouds disperse from the estate, reggae disrupts cats making love
Bass that resonates, crumbling cars and the warring between neighbours
Lay with her as the coffin descends, gun crime statistics
Spinoza makes accusations from beyond, ethical misappropriation
Stop talking, for your voice could make an angel weep
but the children still scream, running, frenzied on the lava streets
Cracking bull whips at the backs of a slave, ********** passion, weeping
and the sun sets in the East, proverbial middle finger to the populace
Franzen now teaches me how to live such a lonesome life
While the night holds me like a mother once would
Until I pass,
and the arms of Susanna Blamire beckon
Hold me close
I'm scared
Apr 15, 2013
Apr 15, 2013 at 11:20 AM UTC
If I could
I would
But I can't
So I won't
--Be the carpenter to the building up of your ego.
--Shower you with confident praise, umbrella you from dissident things.
--Figure out the high and low moods of an adrenaline *****
--Nod in agreement, like a court jester, to the latest exploits of a drama queen.
Its a constant chore I abhor just to get you up and moving out the door.
Push you out the nest to fly,
throw you in the water to sink or swim, to try.
It's what we do when children are all grown,
NOT what we do for girlfriends who are afraid to leave home or be alone.
It's not a keeping score point system where I'm giving more than I'm getting. Its more of a witnessing to the feeling of the allowing and the letting.
If I could
I would
But I can't
So I won't
-- pave a yellow brick road through your misgivings.
--Smooth off the edges of your indecisions.
--Give you the cowardly lions courage he got from Oz.
--Lie to boss Hog that your sick in bed.
-- Tweezer out the splinters of your perceived injustices.
If I could
I would
But I can't
so I wont
Cottle you, bottle you, can't promise you or promote you. Must remove you and remote you, no longer develop you or devote you. Your on your own.
And in the end, dispite what I do and the might that I do it with... the final road is one we walk alone.
I have to let you go now.
Aug 27, 2018
Aug 27, 2018 at 4:43 AM UTC
****** a self bone love
where only crystal skulls *****
in morphine harbors of youth.
Penetrate the gentle pink dawn
of dead days hanging -
moon rising red mouth, half-open.
Savor the metallic ******* ragtime
of cold handsome lips.
Razz the fluid glutted
plop of fossil *****
Slip the light, hot licks, squid squirm
tight snarl back to spread-eagle rising.
Gnaw at the fresh goose-pimpled flesh
in tribes of sweat crossing.
See the green railwayed eyes,
half-smile sprouting.
Urge spasms to go slack, end-to-end
like hair bellies over, shudders run-
down one foot flutters, fluid waves drop.
Flash on the swamp cypress relief
as the **** sputters out
and faded pink curtains heave.
Allow the bring down roll.
The two planes, silent park
like some ***** bed repose.
Sep 30, 2012
Sep 30, 2012 at 12:45 PM UTC
I do not feel myself today
Stolen stunned sparkle sunned
Crystallizing adrenaline ***** hypertension maniac
Overwhelming in here. Crowded.
Always willing to be the first to jump
Potent love affairs with rushing wind and endless heights
Break apart.
Come undone.
Let go.
More surreal than tangible
Fading softly into the mist of kilauea
Great fire mother blessing me with the burning
Ablaze, a Phoenix from the flames, rising into the night
Bursting all over the constellations, adhering to the cosmos
Third eye open
Awed.
Amazed.
May 9, 2012
May 9, 2012 at 9:28 PM UTC
I now have a funky heart,
My nurse calls it a ***** heart.
All seemed well,
And I felt swell-
Until I stood, that is.
The funky heart grooved,
The ***** heart moved.
I fell,
Oh hell-
The nurse's name was Liz.
The doctor told me I'd be fine...
But he cannot feel the pain that is mine.
Mar 10, 2015
Mar 10, 2015 at 6:13 PM UTC
Hop hopeless off the L
searching for hell
"works" "works"
"subs" "subs"
"Bars" "Bars"
"Xanny Bars"
The Avenue Chant
Howl the diseased infected addicted ****
The Avenue Chant
an open drug bazaar is a beautiful thing for one playing the beautiful *****
Requiem for a Nightmare
You ask what I need
knowing what I want
Hop down the corner
You know the best spot
they got the fire
I got a house to burn
You ask, can I get one?
I think in first person with a laugh
perhaps I would give you a leg for one
I see you could use it
We keep walking
you keep limp, limp, limping down....
Cambria
Crutches clacking off the littered decaying pavement
The boys are out in town (when aren't they)
the block is hot (as always)
I wait around the corner
You do my ***** business
Our ***** business
Everyones ***** business
You swing back, deed done, dirt in hand
awwww
yeahhhhh
the stamp is cobra
I remember this **** mm.
this **** is good
The printed snake swims up and out
siphoned from a tiny
baby
blue
bag
cleansing all insecurities, all fear, all humanity.
We limp along
You tell me how you ended up on these streets
wife kicked you out, job fired you, veterans insurance cut you.
The American dream as it looks, on Kensington streets,
circa2013
etc. etc. etc
I feel bad, but, not really, emotional skeleton,
Numbed.
I leave you with some rocks, not much,
then go off kicking
rocks all the way Redrocks
H>O<W
long can I continue without being caught in crosstalk.
A skinny white privileged boy from the suburbs
seeing his future
trotting away before his eyes
The
everlasting
haunting
crouching
limping
creature of death
A
rotten
old one
legged
......junk
Y
May 9, 2014
May 9, 2014 at 7:05 PM UTC
the Beats high on Benzedrine
wandering the upper west side
before there was an Upper West
Side; following the jazz to the
heat; scouting Times Square [& runaways]
for H & down to the Village; where pale
women w/ accents pick up strange
colored dudes on St. Marks Place,
dancing to hiphop; bobbysoxers
transition from Swing to Rock-and-Roll;
becoming universal Harlem hipsters
from anywhere on the globe; she,
a Japanese painter & body artist;
what bebop was to the beats; hot jazz
& jumping ***** jive, ****** & H,
***** & *** ******* **** drunk;
strung out, hitchhiking; writing poetry
Aug 18, 2018
Aug 18, 2018 at 12:50 PM UTC
We will start with every Jew of every sect.
then every Muslim of every sect.
then every Christian of every sect.
then every Buddist of every sect.
Then every Vedic Hindu of every sect.
then every Animist of every sect.
then every New Ager of every sect.
then every person who lives "religiously".
then every person who "believes in and worships" any "god" or "goddess".
then every person of either *** or any of the five skin colours.
then the redheads.
then the disabled.
then the "gays" male or female.
then the "Politicians" of any belief.
then every member or supporter of any Oligarchy anywhere.
then every Capitalist and supporters of every sect.
then every Socialist and supporters of every sect.
then every Liberal and supporters of every sect.
then every Monarchist and supporters of every sect.
then every "aristocrat" and their supporters.
then every Militarist and supporters of every sect.
then every Fascist and supporters of every sect.
then every "Freedom" lover of whatever belief.
then every Revolutionary and supporters of whatever cause.
then every Criminal of whatever crime.
every Hippy.
every Ecofreak.
every alcoholic user.
every tobacco smoker.
every Cannabis smoker.
every priest of every "religion"
every Khat chewer.
every ***** of any junk.
every celebrity especially public ones.
every historian.
every novelist.
every poet.
every lecturer.
every expert.
every "adviser".
every spokesperson.
every print or electronic journalist especially.
every Television chat show host.
every one else.
Its the only way to get neither War nor Peace
on this war ravaged planet,
but simple existence without any corruption or criminality.
and then who will be left?.
NO ONE!!
Except me and my twin flame
and oh boy will we have a great time of it.
Alone but all one.
just us and the Isness of the Universe.
wandering this beautiful playground gifted to us by the Isness of the Universe.
The Isness of the Universe to walk with and talk with.
Fruit hanging from trees .
Cold clear waters to drink.
Nuts to crunch.
oh and Amber our huge sheppie--
connosseur of Pork Crackling
and doggy nonsense and wisdom.
www.thefournobletruthsrevised.co.uk
Aug 12, 2014
Aug 12, 2014 at 1:26 AM UTC
My perfect princess
Loves to dance and dress
My princess perfect
Causes no distress
Sings just for affect
Angel in my heart
Lover of all art
A painter, writer
My princess my ****
A demure fighter
The ***** in spunky
The funk in funky
The warmth in my soul
Happiness *****
Perfect daughter role
Strait "As" in her school
No boy's Blonde haired fool
Boy terminator
Dependence too cruel
An animator
My perfect princess
Loves to dance and dress
My princess perfect
Causes no distress
Can't know her affect
Dec 30, 2012
Dec 30, 2012 at 7:08 PM UTC
Silence is key,
You won't hear much from me,
I just want to hear,
The whole world is a mirror,
Woke up in a dream,
Things are not what they seem,
Your sight has to be keen,
If you know what I mean,
Seeing through the smoke screen,
Guided by the light beam,
Living out the larger sceam,
***** for truth and yes I feen.
May 11, 2014
May 11, 2014 at 11:47 AM UTC
Love will always be but a complicated high,
But a lovely euphorical and addicting ******
Oh so lovely and blissful you want at all cost,
Never seeing the real problem,
But when it finally hits you like knife to the gut,
You bleed out your essence of life and ability.
I just want to be carried by this deadly lethal high that it gives,
But at what cost only my life,
I can give that up and it will simply be gone,
Like an addicts money and pride,
I will disappear socially as if my friends left me,
But in painful truth i left them all behind.
I want to be wanted, i want to be the addiction,
Not just the addict but its not so simple ,
As it makes you feel good its just using you,
Like the ***** uses money slowly ******* you away,
It keeps you alive by draining your life you make it wanted,
You make it exist, as it makes you slip away,
To a cold dark world that seems like home away from worry,
The real worry is the only thing left in life,
The cold serpent slithering in your veins,
Suffocating your heart in the numbest pain possible.
Sep 23, 2012
Sep 23, 2012 at 1:06 PM UTC
Loneliness seems to be decorated like a gift.
Covered by the whispers of people and carved by their oh so curious eyes.
If only it were as simple as being alone in a room for more than 10 seconds.
I've never been able to completely grasp onto the meaning of the word "Lonely".
Yet the silence of the world has caused my lungs to fill with the drowning sensation I have so carefully attempted to avoid.
Some people call it "daddy issues"; My constant need for comfort and companionship all derived from my "daddy" walking out on me as a child.
I refuse to believe it is that simple. The choking caused by my inability to swim while being dragged down by a cinder block is simply a sensation; I have this "adrenaline ***** vibe" about me they said. It is only a useless attempt at filling the void you've created.
Loneliness... It falls between Falling in and out of love, deciding on if you want or need someone there to comfort you. Loneliness, it occurs in any in-between moment of silence. This never ending abyss of a word has been pulling me in, as if the twinkle in my eye that came with "Oh look she has your eyes Albert!" Never existed.
I refuse to believe that this entire time all the bad things that went wrong with me along the way were just a domino affect of you walking out.
If I could go back ten years from a week before my seventeenth birthday I would tell six year old me not to invite that man to her birthday because he will simply disappoint her.
$100.00 isn't love, it is passing by with the least amount of effort.
Apr 2, 2015
Apr 2, 2015 at 6:26 PM UTC
Like a ***** looking for a fix, the unconscious man sticks his nose where it doesn't belong, looking for energetic salvation but he's going about it all wrong.
You are not the supplier, not even number 2, just a crack fiend for vibes, with your little ***** spoon.
Forever a user and always an abuser, your rotting discoteque of flesh bleeds at the sight of salvation, all the kids dressed up in love are aware of your eternal damnation.
It won't be until you sweat, puke and die a thousand deaths that you are set free, forever an energy vampire until you breathe, breathe, breathe.
(alt.1 where he can't afford rent)
Feb 2, 2013
Feb 2, 2013 at 7:46 PM UTC
Sometimes I just wanna write to you and tell you that you ****
I think you’re over-dramatic and moody and I couldn’t take it when we were together
I always felt like I was doing something wrong
I always felt like there was something keeping us from being truly happy
There was some spirit of oppression over you and therefore over me
That made me feel like I was going mad
It left with me a sense of deep inexpressible pain that I still feel when I think of us
And yet we connected on some deep level that I’ve never felt before
And yet I wanted so desperately to make things work with you
Perhaps it was merely the magnetically strong physical attraction
The *** with you was the best I’ve ever had;
But then again I don't have much to go off of
Unlike you who latches onto anything that comes within ten feet
Not saying you’re a player or a ****
But you didn’t and maybe still don’t truly respect woman
You’re a relationship *****
You’re addicted to being in love
You have this ridiculous expectation of what love is and how it comes about
If you hold onto that you will never be happy
If you keep doing things the way you have been;
You don’t deserve to be happy
You have left a trail of broken hearts and have cried victim
Justifying yourself by the wrong that has befallen you in the past
You're addicted to your heart ache
You haven’t let it go or moved on
And you wont allow it to heal
You’re delusional
And you spread it to those who are unfortunate enough to fall for you
I need to realize that I’m better off without you
Because your love, your life, your companionship is poison
Dec 11, 2012
Dec 11, 2012 at 1:59 PM UTC
Intrepidly neglected, of my lessened reasoning, I am dissected, of my insurrection, from the blessed beens of yesteryear's glints, dancing, parading, and burning, in layers, stages, and fazes, fading, and melting, the plastic faces into the smelting heap, that has come so far, just to inspire me.
Always.
Always you unto me, spiraling, indefinitely into the deep, where ceased is the times, with bloodied hands, and laugh lines, laughing one last time, while glancing toward my watch, under setting suns, and rising stars, smiling faces, and in tearful goodbyes, i realise
The sky's limitlessness
And in all the glory, and all the bliss, the eloquent stories, and the gentle drifts, my imagination uplifts, in wisps of gentleness, where i submit to reason.
Bless-ed be, the one who garners to my support, from a vortex of euphoric antidotes, of mindless quotes, and animated emotes, pulsed, from straight faces, and lost hope.
Ill tell the truth, you can go with nope, in whispered breaths of gun smoke, lathered in lith-dope.
Just trying to cope with the flow, until i crash upon the shores of nevermore, and, explore these holes in my soul intent, ascending from the contempt of bent perspectives, and twisted concepts, letting the blood of the peasant from my arms of harmony, trembling blankly to sleep.
To you a ***** to me tranquility, as i sink, into the world i knew, so that it may be seen, casing the well being, of all the things, and pixelated dreams, from a thieves keep.
Deep, down, below me, in obscurity, i seep, through the soil of my turmoil, until my hand reaches out, from beyond my doubts, and clambers from the shadows, outside of myself.
I am born, of mud, of muck, of the stuff, you're afraid of, and all i bare is love, love to shrug the shams astray, vacating the placation, and dichotomies, unifying light, into one me, shining in the rainy streets, of my deletion
Until my completion
Completely
Erases me.
Apr 13, 2013
Apr 13, 2013 at 1:41 AM UTC