"popper" poems
The English vice,
Some Etonian curse –
Set down in grass
And purple verse,
Lavatory bred
With ransacked blood,
Skin slapping and
With a falling thud –
Takes boys at childhood,
Wishes them away,
With promises of popper fuelled buffets,
And poisons them with
Vice and virus red,
And sees them unmarried
Giving head.
I don’t regret a single thing I am,
I’ve tried it out
And can’t abide the sham –
I’ll **** men
And make them beg for more,
I’ll scrabble for their love upon the floor,
I’ll love men
And love will love me too,
I’ll love for love’s own sake
And when I’m through
I’ll die and I’ll be thankful that your hate
Never made me beg that I was straight.
Jul 31, 2014
Jul 31, 2014 at 6:01 PM UTC
who knew you were filled
with gold!
when I stuffed the dynamite down
your throat and ran you
through the casino I wasn’t
expecting a jackpot
maybe a princess piñata or a
party popper
but a corner leather and a
fresh haircut?
no, we’re not
in the 50’s anymore
but your vault was guarded
like mob headquarters when you head
started sputtering
quarters
you the
light-skinned pin action
movie star
looking highly alien
you
my diamond studded
chain
Oct 13, 2015
Oct 13, 2015 at 12:56 PM UTC
K-popper Psy
Buzzing like a pesky fly
To out do his "Gangnam Style" hit
But you can't polish cat ****
*Clerihew
A Clerihew is a comic verse consisting of two couplets and a specific rhyming scheme, aabb invented by Edmund Clerihew Bentley (1875-1956) at the age of 16. The poem is about/deals with a person/character within the first rhyme. In most cases, the first line names a person, and the second line ends with something that rhymes with the name of the person.*
Apr 21, 2013
Apr 21, 2013 at 9:51 PM UTC
Take me to the hospital
I think im overdosing
I couldn’t take it anymore
Good thing they diagnosed me.
He lied there and cried from those pills
Thought if he died he'd be something real
Scars are not always visible
Beaten with words, never felt so invincible
He’s quiet but, his mind is screaming
Tried to figure it out, life has no meaning
They all say its a phase he'll be better soon.
In reality he never was, now what do they do?
__
Chorus
Nobody takes him seriously
Some kind of conspiracy
When they find out
It will be too late
You cant stop
The constant beating
Of self hate
__
Give him a chance to speak
Give him a break from everything he’s seen.
If no one picks him up
He will forever be in our dreams
No more reality
Life just isn't what it seems
Another pill popper, a maniac, a **** smoker, addicted to crack.
When they’re gone you can't bring them back
The state he’s in its caring he lacks
No one gives him confidence so,
He slacks and he slacks.
No job to pay the bills, just a drug dealing act
You can't make money when you ingest all the profit.
When its too late there's no way to stop it
__
chorus
Nobody takes him seriously
Some kind of conspiracy
When they find out
It will be too late
You cant stop
The constant beating
Of self hate
__
He was too young, and it was too soon.
He can't fix what he already consumed.
Sitting all alone in his room.
He was satisfied.
For that one moment he felt alive.
He said he'd be happier if he died.
Yes we cried but, we all moved on
For people like him, I wrote this song
Mar 3, 2015
Mar 3, 2015 at 10:50 PM UTC
appearances
appearances
appearances
we aren’t what
we seem,
are we?
but we are
what we seem
aren’t we?
how would
you know about
the drug-takers,
the child-rapists,
the murderers,
the doctors,
the racists,
the writers,
the sports-fan,
the obese,
the rage-filled,
the hateless,
if they didn’t
tell you?
what are they but
average joes
until they go
rob a bank
or
paint a master-
piece?
even
the very perfect,
like the president
or
your babysitter,
is probably hiding
something
maybe they’re
a *** addict
or a pill-popper
or a communist
but if you look
at them and
see a good little
child
or
a perfect
example of
human being
I highly
doubt that’s what
they really
are
I say this
simply because
people are not
perfect
but
society
refuses to let
them be their
misshapen
selves
so we hide it,
like all good
things,
and pretend
like we have no idea
what they’re talking
about
when somebody
makes fun
of our favorite
geeky tv
show
and that’s us
all appearances
all lies
all that we know
Mar 17, 2011
Mar 17, 2011 at 6:32 PM UTC
I don't see how
Worrying can make you
Tired.
But it does.
It makes me exhausted, it makes me an insomniac,
It makes me think crazy, it makes me worry more than I already was.
It makes me think every one has something happening to them
Right now
At this very moment.
Something is
Wrong.
But I'm tired. I really am.
I need my sleep.
But my mind is fighting,
Telling me over and over and over again that
I need to check one last time
Whether someone is okay
Whether someone is alive
Whether someone is someone is...
**** it, there's the mental block.
It happens.
Usually.
I think.
I don't know.
But what I do know is that
It makes me unusual,
It makes me sick,
It makes me not normal.
It makes people stare,
It makes people scared,
It makes people laugh and laugh and laugh
While they call me names and mock me.
They tell me I'm crazy,
Mentally ******** a
"Psychopathic pill popper".
I know that I am.
And I'm trying to stop.
But it's hard.
And I'm tired.
Dec 27, 2013
Dec 27, 2013 at 9:03 AM UTC
P-Popper
O-Outstanding
P-Panda likes It
C-Crunchy
O-Out Of This World
R-Ridiculous
N-Nitrous
Oct 16, 2014
Oct 16, 2014 at 4:52 PM UTC
you follow me everywhere
little girl wet with tears
kissed and shut in the garage
with that yippy dog and
a box of fruit rollups
to rip and obsess
to **** at your heels
driven into the dirt
my popper princess
you've endured enough
Nov 10, 2015
Nov 10, 2015 at 4:44 PM UTC
Sway of a tree, rope hanging down.
Swing, crack, swing, feet graze the ground.
Scruffy old shoes, laces like the rope,
If only you had known that you still had so much hope
Pill Popper, made you feel.
You needed someone to know that this pain was real
Swing, crack, swing, go the branches above you
They called out with the wind and begged you not to
Mutated in the brain, lay the mangled secret
And it whispered to you softly Keep it, keep it, keep it.
Sep 15, 2014
Sep 15, 2014 at 11:53 AM UTC
***“We're all mad here.”
Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland***
Go ask Alice
about the adventure,
how she fell from grace
into that ungodly space
amongst mad people
places that go meow in the night
yesterday, she was a different kind of gal
believing in the impossible before breakfast
out of touch with smoking caterpillars
she left the rabbit hole
with new frightful insight
it hardly matters which way you go
it's always a huge puzzle
It was no secret she was entirely bonkers,
whence the queen squealed off with her head
Mad Hatter served tea
with uncommon nonsense
whilst chasing dust bunny shrooms
chatting backwards,
then asked curiouser & curiouser
'why is a raven like a writing desk'?
They all jammed yesterday and today,
into clouds, sand & sea, so that
eventually, logic and proportion of the Red Queen,
only made eccentric sense to the dormouse
feeding your head...
&
uncle Walt getting richer on the hookah smokin'
blonde ***** pill popper,
~too bad the moral of the story is frozen for posterity...
Jan 21, 2014
Jan 21, 2014 at 9:31 AM UTC
It's 10:51
My Philosophy of Science class
Wasn't supposed to end until 11:15.
There is 39 minutes until Accounting.
I don't like this.
Because the cafe will be too full
It would cause a bad attack.
Because I was dumb and didn't take
My anti anxiety meds.
So I have to sit down on a bench in the hallway.
Stairs are a wreck.
My knees just shake.
I took too much of my friend's adderall
Because I never went to sleep.
And I needed to do all of these assignments
And exams
And papers
And swap tragic life stories with Becca
And I only picked at a piece of watermelon for breakfast
And now I have the shakes.
And I'm either really ******* hot
Or really ******* cold.
And I don't know which one.
So I'm just wearing a really warm sweatshirt.
Isn't this great
Oct 2, 2014
Oct 2, 2014 at 11:11 AM UTC
Prince Pierre of Monaco
and several of his friends
are nursing sores
and broken jaws
They won’t party
here again
Adam Hock, a footballer,
was drinking with three friends
who looked like “Charlie’s angels”
with designer made rear ends.
The Prince, perhaps a little juiced,
and fond of lovely things,
got over friendly with the girls.
(another sport of kings)
When Adam gave the Prince a Pop
Pierre will long recall,
His three friends assaulted Mr. Hoch
and each one took the fall.
Mr. Hoch is middle aged,
but all American.
Four French were not his equal.-
He could have handled ten.
Feb 22, 2012
Feb 22, 2012 at 9:19 PM UTC
I'm feeling used
And discarded
Like a little confetti popper
You expertly pulled that string
And got that brief explosion
Of bright pretty colors
And then tossed me away
Like you've done with so many other
Little plastic confetti poppers
Maybe I'm special to you
I still let myself hope
I take your explanations
Tuck them away in my head
Little grains of comfort
In a sea of discontent
Jan 26, 2015
Jan 26, 2015 at 12:40 PM UTC
Du aner ikke, hvor forelsket jeg var i dig.
Du har ingen idé om, hvor betaget jeg var af dig.
Og du ved slet ikke, hvor meget du sårede mig.
Selvom alt, hvad jeg følte for dig er væk -
Popper du stadigvæk ind i mit hoved.
Kan jeg sagtens få kuldegysninger ved tanken om dig,
Og føle dit bankende hjerte mod min nøgne krop.
Dårlige vaner er nemlig svære at komme af med.
Specielt, når du var min.
Nov 9, 2015
Nov 9, 2015 at 5:25 AM UTC
By: Cedric McClester
They’re the party of wealth
Unconcerned with the health
Of the economy
Relative to you and me
The situation’s getting frantic
Still they’re up to their old antics
Of symbolism ‘n semantics
Symbolism ‘n semantics
The problem is gigantic
In fact it’s transatlantic
His approach is sycophantic
But they are quite pedantic
Is he being too romantic
As they come with their semantics
Their symbolism ‘n semantics
Symbolism ‘n semantics
They’ve tried to pass a bill
Over there up on the hill
But despite the public will
They keep arguing it still
They’re complaining ‘bout the pork
But haven’t put down their fork
So we’ll have to wait
But the hour’s getting late
The problem is gigantic
In fact it’s transatlantic
His approach is sycophantic
But they are quite pedantic
Is he being too romantic
As they come with their semantics
Their symbolism ‘n semantics
Symbolism ‘n semantics
It seems they have a crush
On a pill popper named Rush
Who someone should tell hush
And stop talking so **** much
By hoping that he fails
While we lay on the rails
He’s blowin wind up their sails
So how did he avoid our jails
The problem is gigantic
In fact it’s transatlantic
His approach is sycophantic
But they are quite pedantic
Is he being too romantic
As they come with their semantics
Their symbolism ‘n semantics
Symbolism ‘n semantics
They voted millions down the drain
In a war that was insane
But now hear them complain
Instead of trying to ease our pain
Their politics remains the same
But we made our selection
Where were they the last election
Cos it changed the whole complexion
With a call for redirection
The problem is gigantic
In fact it’s transatlantic
His approach is sycophantic
But they are quite pedantic
Is he being too romantic
As they come with their semantics
Their symbolism ‘n semantics
Symbolism ‘n semantics
(c) Copyright 2015, Cedric McClester. All rights reserved.
Apr 22, 2015
Apr 22, 2015 at 2:33 PM UTC
Percocet
*******
Xanax
OxyNEO
And god knows what else.
You keep telling me “I’m not high I swear! I’m just tired”
But your lips are tinged blue, you have saliva in the creases of your mouth, your body is frail and sickly looking, your skin so white it’s almost transparent. Your eyes are swollen, glossy, and gaunt, your cheeks are sunken, your hair is tangled and unwashed.
“I’m not high I swear!”
But I don’t believe you. How many times have you said that to me only to confess later that you were, that you found a pill and didn’t have the self control not to take it.
“I’m not high I swear”
Yet you randomly smack your head, blurt out random words and nonsense, forget entire conversations, fall asleep mid sentence.
You said you were clean. But the very next day I get a call telling me that you’ve been arrested for a DUI, you had Xanax and Oxyneos in your toxicology report.
I’m afraid to answer my phone when it rings, I always fear it will be the call that tells me you’ve overdosed.
You said “I don’t need to go to rehab, I can quit myself”
But if that were true, you’d be clean by now. It’s been over a year since you told me you were addicted to pills.
At first it was just a perc or two, and now you are a full blown opioid abuser.
You’ve become the thing you hated most. An addict that can’t admit that they have a problem.
“Im not high I swear”
I can’t count how many times you’ve said that, how many times you lied to my face. So many times I never want to hear those words come out of your mouth again.
But I know I will, and I know I’ll go home and cry after and pray to god you wake up tomorrow.
I just want my best friend back, the kind and honest loving girl you use to be.
I’m tired of the you you’ve become.
The girl that lies, that steals, that is wasting away.
If only you never took that first pill.
Feb 17, 2019
Feb 17, 2019 at 8:32 AM UTC
he askin' why I ran out in the rain
can't tell him he made me feel this way again
that boy's goin' to vegas at the years end
I know he likes his thai massage with a happy end
I know if I say my soul all this will end
-- Boy you've got me turning
in circles
crazy like bipolar
red hot then an icy shoulder
lost my composure
walk home rainy night
total exposure
I see the train coming
what if my shoes moved
I think my favorite-red-dress
would look best on the tracks
I see your past relationships
I'm gettin the scraps
you built an empire outa bricks
I got sticks
wolves come huffin' and puffin'
I let em' in for 120
you got the dough
my wallet empty
treasure the penny
livin off tips
just the tip
for an extra fifty
takeout thrifty
took a showa
I feel filthy
-- he askin' why I ran out in the rain
can't tell him he made me feel this way again
that boy's goin' to vegas at the years end
I know he likes his thai massage with a happy end
I know if I say my soul all this will end
-- Boy you've got me turning
in circles
crazy like bipolar
red hot then an icy shoulder
lost my composure
walk home rainy night
total exposure
guess I'm looking for a little closure
too much left to interpretation
tryin to be patien
but it's got me down in the pits
these hairy pits itch
but if you need me
call me
what's the sitch
I'll be there on the fly
'cause you my only guy
in my head I'll be asking why--what who when where
but my vocal chords would never dare
afraid one word will end it all
I just want you to give me your all.
he askin' why I ran out in the rain
can't tell him he made me feel this way again
that boy's goin' to vegas at the years end
I know he likes his thai massage with a happy end
He can get whatever whenever
nervous of all the girls passin by
he got his arm around me can't see why
scared I can't match up to the pharo
feelin' like a popper in his maro
windows covered in steam
marry me
make me a queen-
-- Boy you've got me turning
in circles
crazy like bipolar
red hot then an icy shoulder
lost my composure
walk home rainy night
total exposure
I see the train coming
what if my shoes moved
I think my favorite-red-dress
would look best on the tracks
I see the train coming
what if my shoes moved
I think my favorite-red-dress
would look best on the tracks
I see the train coming
see the train coming
see the train comin
what if my shoes moved
what if my shoes moved
my shoes moved
my favorited red dress
it looks best on the tracks
Apr 29, 2016
Apr 29, 2016 at 11:44 PM UTC
It started when i was 12. the nights seemed shorter. the days were long. the school bells ring. all my wrongs seemed right. all my rights seemed wrong.
It started with weird. and escalate quickly. The tears started to come. and i believed it was fate. I was insecure. But they said they only saw beauty. to as far as the eye can see. but yet... they took my dignity. They took my self love. and locked it away. thats when it all started. i wasnt me.
i know im not the only kid who feels like this. Everyone has their bully. everyone feels low sometimes. But with the words the throw. sometime hits us and sometimes will miss.
She got laughed at for her wheight.
She soon thought eating was a mistake. People teased her for not eating. She sat alone in the empty seating. She thought she was alone.
Then there was boy. who stood alone. no one by his side. He thought about all the times he cried. His mother never wanted him. his dad soon left. He was put onto a different family tree. No in his life stayed.
Time flew into eighth grade. the names the call him never went away. They kept laughing and laughing and he did fade. He talked therapist; that made him strange. He got depression pills. And got wrapped in a tidal wave of a full suicidal. and then he got called popper.
Us kids were so different the built us our own jail. so hail mary full of grace. where were you when i needed you. But i dont go to bed. its all in my head. they say. instead of helping. they hurt. and in all this jail. we still have secrets. these walls are the only things that see us at at our weekest.
Then we think like this. we think we are nothing and that no one will ever love us cause we are freaks. we must try. We try to build the sun for that one person. but they reject us. We see only wrong, cause we will always be wrong in someones eyes
But when you hear these names you must stop hearing. turn off all the sound. and be alone. Remember its all lies. Youre eyes will be tearing you will feel space bound. and feel a lone.
And when they break youre heart. you must wrap in a cast. take a pen. sign it. sign it. saying they are wrong. They have to be wrong. cause they live in the past. focus on what youve done. They lie to youre face. when they call you a name. tell them they lie. at least try. cause the first in hating something, means you once loved them. you once saw the beauty. then theyd throw you away. But how can they hate someone. when all there is, is beauty.
To this day, kids are still being called names and i dont think it will ever stop. there will always be blame. there will always be harm. but youre always going to be able, to see the beauty.
May 7, 2014
May 7, 2014 at 11:30 PM UTC
If you're a popper, I'm a bomber
If you're a romp & runner
I'm boomerang & banger
If You're a hot in the sacker
I'm a leather Queen, *** Smacker
But, seriously, En Scene, Cut, Shows Over, Curtain Call
Not one of these Scenarios Describes Anything appealing
Nor Aligned with my Temple of Love, This is Holy Sanctuary,
This is Holistic Prayer, the Ectomorph in Ecstasy.
Body Electric, Full Sense ********
My Mystical ************ is my Body's Prayer to God
May 14, 2014
May 14, 2014 at 12:15 PM UTC
HAR JEG RENT MEL I POSEN?
ELLER VÅGNER JEG OP MED PSYKOSEN?
KALD MIG EN LÆGE - JEG STILLER DIAGNOSEN
OG NÅR JEG SER PROBLEMER FORHØJER JEG DOSEN
FOR VI POPPER PILLER SOM VI POPPER BUMSER
EGENTLIG ER VI BARE EN FLOK POPPEDE BUMSER
MED HOVEDET SÅ LANGT OPPE I DAMENUMSER
AT VI HAR SVÆRT VED AT SE JERES HUNDEKUNSTER
DJÆVLEN LUKKER MIG IND I SIT PARADIS
STIKKER KNIVEN I MIN SPAREGRIS
SÅ JEG KAN KØBE DRINKS TIL OVERPRIS
OG UNDERSTREGE AT JEG ER MIN EGEN NEMISIS
(f.b.)
Mar 2, 2016
Mar 2, 2016 at 6:02 PM UTC
A failure, that’s all I really am when you look at me,
A useless pill popper, who’s self loathing hooks him, you see,
It’s a complex, I’m aware i’m worthless,
I’m standing at the edge, swaying, wordless,
Side to side, to and fro, left to right,
I’ll take the jump, quietly rid the world of me tonight,
I need a vacation, from the **** in my life,
Before I get to slicing up my wrist with this knife,
Saying goodbye, to everyone I thought gave a ****
I wanted someone to care, but I think i’m **** out of luck.
Dec 18, 2012
Dec 18, 2012 at 8:50 PM UTC
I am
The boy who walks with his head down low
Blocking the white static that leaks from their mouths with the sounds I create with my mind.
I never look people in the eye not because I am afraid but because if they look into mine they will see all the secrets and all the pain. Shadows of my past, a past not worth mentioning.
I am
The girl who stares at her reflection and only sees the imperfection hanging from her sides.
I cover my arms with black sweaters to hide the rough edges, the roads that will lead to a damaged heart.
I stare at the ceiling and see a world beyond my reach and the beatings of reality come and bruise my skin.
I am
The child who looks up to the one's who are "right" and mimic them, I am their puppet.
I see the world with colors.
The word "why" is always on the tip of my tongue always wanting to come out
like some popper.
I am too young to know what the world is really like so I stay safe in the comforts of my imagination.
I am
the stranger who longs to be heard but can never make a sound. My voice is a series of silent syllables.
I am.....
Jun 1, 2013
Jun 1, 2013 at 3:19 PM UTC
You ever seen me move my left foot then my right...let the Bass drop it'll be a hell of a night..Im talkin body on speed, music on crack...Im a get down, girl make ya break ya back... I'm popper and a locker...A true show stopper...And when I work the floor it just ask for more... I'm a do what i do aint no touchin this...Ice cold to all the honeys, a true breezybrisk...Move quick with the fist, lighting with the feet...My sweat makes it rain, and the thunders in the beat... I'm a storm moving through, hurricane this....Destruction of the floor, break it down real quick...Dancing in my body, vibrations in my soul....sucking in everybody, a rhythmic black hole...you'll party wit me brotha, ya girl will back it up...All together now, on the floor tear it up...Now back to my left foot over to my right...Eat ya vegetables I'm gonna Y.A.M tonight...
Feb 4, 2013
Feb 4, 2013 at 1:51 PM UTC
watching the ****** suicides
it makes my wrists hurt
i see myself in cecelia’s eyes
the hurt and the pain
though i was always more of a pill popper
than a wrist slitter
watching the ****** suicides
my hands shake
mostly my right one
fingers trembling in tune to the beating
of my heart
bound to rip out of my chest
watching the ****** suicides
i feel the luke warm bathtub water
sloshing over my thighs
as i sat there
with the blade in my shaking hands
imaging the red water that remained clear
watching the ****** suicides
my head hurts
my chest tightens
i feel like crying
maybe dying
just resting for a little while
watching the ****** suicides
i thank god that i told someone
before it got any worse
the months spent cutting and overdosing
in silence
now i just regret them
watching the ****** suicides
i think of all my friends
that have hurt themselves or attempted
think of about how i am one of them
and a text message or a blog post
is a pretty ****** way to say goodbye
watching the ****** suicides
feeling like i am one of them
knowing what the signs look like
like the back of my hand
i am so glad
i have yet to become a statistic
Apr 26, 2015
Apr 26, 2015 at 12:53 PM UTC
This face is a paper
white bright and empty
You painted a cipher
of joyous summer
And off you disappear
like the roadrunner
leaving me dizzy
and confused in wakes
of your love smokes
I look in mirror
at this cipher
keen as a gaper
been on a popper
And I wonder
if I can ever
get all of it together
Jun 4, 2015
Jun 4, 2015 at 3:22 PM UTC