"steroids" poems
I feel like I am neurologically deficient
That a lot of my brain cells are missing
Like a punch drunk doped up punk boxer
A pimply muscle bound ***** on steroids
Hanging out at my old high school locker
No shocker that I am no medical doctor
But I always thought I’d be just a bit better
I guess on average I am a little bit smarter
But the bar is set so low that it requires
Very little to grow and go over it, you know
In comparison to the other young men
I may be grandstanding and one upping them
But when it comes to grand scheme of things
When compared to past people
Who shared my glorious dreams
Like Percy Shelley and John Keats
Like Ginsburg and the other Beats
I think I am drifting of course just a bit
Lest we all forget the **** cut the crap to fit in it
Maybe I’m okay few travel this way anyways
So who’s to say if I’m doing it the wrong or the right way
But I still feel like my brain needs a chemical treatment
A diet with more nutrients and sufficient Supplements
Because I’m feeling neurologically deficient
May 24, 2015
May 24, 2015 at 4:19 PM UTC
Somehow your heart enzymes inveigled a way into my system
I surmise it was your energising tongue which smuggled them in
my pseudoanaphylactic longing to snuggle in vein against your protein
its aim a happy interaction tugged by frenzied polypeptide chains
when your petite triglycerides coil avidly around my pH changes
hydrolysis replenishes steroids to stop any pleasure level plunge
so that functional-group transfers may intervene at all active sites
supervising where coenzymes await love's coursing stem cell sights
that photosynthesise my eyes to sensitise to you despite the dark
dancing in all my living cells with infectious smiles an epidemic
when your DNA can't polymerase enough of the audacious lipids
pleasing as they kiss the density away of fatty acids on soft lips
that release protease inhibitors in ways not too selective
so our hearts find their metabolic pathway audaciously live
and offer themselves completely to a frolic in love reactive
Jul 28, 2014
Jul 28, 2014 at 12:06 PM UTC
They say that time
Slips through your fingers
Like sand
But it’s not really true
Sand is much easier to hold on to
Apr 10, 2014
Apr 10, 2014 at 8:14 AM UTC
Camping in the Blue Ridge Mountains
was the greatest day of my life
It was my birthday
I brought a suitcase
and my favorite dame
and hiked 2 miles UP^^^^^^^^
laughing all the way
UP ^^^^^in the Ozarks
Medics were shooting steroids in my ****
BUT, never been more in love
with a man who injects grief in my veins
Dwelling in the Sangre de Cristo Mountains
sensed his vibe
Yes, Jesus I feel you here
held en el Rio Grande con mis mejor amigos
drooling in the hot springs
Taos has called our names
********* the rocky sand that is below me
I find a coin from New Zealand,
in turn, losing my evil eye earring
an offering to spirit's stream
a pair of desert lizards
we desire to get frisky and be alone
we shine silver glitter under a moonlit glow
witches cackle and curanderos
hide behind coyote cries and cacti
looking to each other with faces expressing,
"What should do we do?"
I guess allow them to do their thing
humans need ceremonies too
Feb 11, 2019
Feb 11, 2019 at 1:36 AM UTC
Drug Addict
I drink beer, I drink liquor,
doing shots makes it quicker.
I smoke a bowl, I smoke a joint,
is there a problem, get to the point.
I take acid, I like trip,
I love the trail of a moving whip.
I like ****** sugar, I snort coke,
no wonder, I'm so **** broke.
I pop pills for stress, some for pain,
you'll never hear me complain.
I shoot ****** then I dose off,
my life is just a total loss.
I make and smoke ****
hoping it takes my last breath.
Special K is my favorite tranquilizer,
I use it as a drug appetizer.
I smoke crack, don't ask why,
don't knock it, til you try.
Ecstasy makes me feel so good,
it always puts me in a special mood.
I sniff gas, I sniff glue,
then I ask, who are you.
Sometimes I smoke hash,
I live a life of white trash.
Morphine can't be beat,
my brain has suffered a defeat.
I even take ****** and steroids,
***** big, ***** small and I'm paranoid.
Been to counselling, been to rehab,
last time I went, I ended up with *****
Now finally, I'm clean and sober,
been that way since mid October.
I admit drugs are more fun,
but in the end, God finally won.
Jan 11, 2014
Jan 11, 2014 at 2:56 PM UTC
*In memory of, and with respect to the victims of the 2011 terrorist acts in Norway.
As the weather resembles, one remembers...*
Perhaps if you went to my school,
You'd have gotten beaten up for your egocentricity
Long before it grew to such deranged preportions.
As misplaced as the runes you carved into Glock and rifle;
You'd have been not only estranged, but broken.
Disarmed decades before detonation.
Alas. A distorted berserker you ploughed through
Establishments and hearts; an armed teenager fuelled on
Video games, soft candy and steroids.
Pity the nation that nurses such an unpoetic national enemy.
We forgot your name and face, as you never knew ours.
The symbol we chose was an ocean of roses,
Like torches held to our love unharmed.
Norwegian leap year two-thousand-eleven;
Only twenty-two days in July.
Apr 14, 2014
Apr 14, 2014 at 4:25 PM UTC
My sympathy depleted
My friendships deleted
I have been defeated
By truths that hit so hard
I was decleated
By intense hatred deep-seeded
My history was repeated
I guess a three-armed mutant
Has no need for a right hand man
Until his leprosy riddled hands rot off
When he needs them the most
But his ***** limbs had been pretty useless for a while
Since he had lost feeling in them
He had to do a biopsy on his life
After the inaccurate results of the smear test
He took antibiotics to rid himself of the bacteria
But that didn't heal the nerve damage
He yearned for the rhetoric to be less inflammatory
So he took steroids
Transforming the ***** into an ogre
With no semblance of humanity
...Except for the people he devours
Their patience is delicious
He eats that first
Their pity is a delicacy
A rare treat
Their disgust tastes sour
But it's a feast
His cannibalism may seem callous
But the non-mutant lepers take Thalidomide
And get pregnant
Their kids come out defected
With an intense, deep-seeded hatred for three-armed mutants
And lepers and ogres look exactly the same
To those of another species
Jun 29, 2017
Jun 29, 2017 at 5:51 PM UTC
I keep my head up,
lips snarled and puckered,
teeth show,
nose high,
squinted eyes,
you can see death in them.
I look to the left,
I look to the right,
now it's time to fight,
3-2-1 take flight,
we go all night,
keep my fist packed tight,
and if I lose I'll be back looking through my iron sight.
This is the law of the land,
dog eat dog,
tooth for tooth,
an eye for eye,
kill or be killed,
I'm a killer with a blood instinct.
Came up in the mafia vicinage,
we live life this ain't no scrimmage,
live by Omerta it ain't no image,
living life without problems is a privilege,
when you start talking to cops you finished,
that's how we get down in my evil village,
nothing changed we all living vintage,
I can see you coming in with your gimmick,
don't try to test my limit,
I'm Popeye on steroids and spinach.
Rimani persone reali.
Oct 16, 2014
Oct 16, 2014 at 5:51 PM UTC
An enhancing drug to increase massive body tone
But let me tell you to leave that steroid drug alone
Body composition improvements will be shown
There are health risks that aren’t known
The outside body appearance you will in the enhance
But the health issues you are betting on chance
Your heart will enlarge
Let that awareness give you a charge
Next you will have kidney problems
Later everything in your body will shutdown
Unless you stop steroid usage, you will be getting closer to being coffin bound
The utterance will be no sound
Instead to trying too quickly steroid build up
Go natural and see your beauty while you hold your head up
It is not worth the rush of death
When it comes to enhancements there will be nothing left
When you use steroids you become a walking time bomb
The signal will be its own sounding alarm
Stay away from steroid enhance while you still got the chance
It’s natural all the way given the endurance too advance.
Feb 1, 2015
Feb 1, 2015 at 6:03 PM UTC
From wars erupting earths core,
we've settled a score only for the heavens and hell to see.
We smother the stench of temptations with potpourri,
only to deceive others stimulating parts of a brain.
Still pardon my slang
Are we using something to rearrange a type of mental suicide arranged,
in order to display portraits of lucid terror?,
Throwing smoke bombs to keep a little order
but even so that's just keeping us ***** for more slaughter.
Like roaches and raid a single spray will cause fragment mutations
a zombie faze shot with steroids and black plagues, just a graze to depict nations,
human infested sanitation able to retaliate government abomination.
A conversation my mind read by Pagans
walking through hallways,
a million rooms perfume and a two headed waitress,
mind binding views,
imitations, crosses, limitations,
serpents, pulpits, fuels lit and shattered creations.
Oct 3, 2013
Oct 3, 2013 at 3:46 PM UTC
I travelled straight west
to the epicentre of the southern wastelands
and 'twas with mind-numbing disbelief that
I found an Oak table propped upon the sands
and it was not alone either
for three beings sat it, seemingly nonplussed -
one was a skinny old man
wearing a linen suit faded and powdered with dust
his collar frayed around the edges
a moth-eaten hat sat upon his head,
he had a daisy poking from his breast pocket
so very much preserved, so very much dead,
to his left sat a one-eyed Hare
the sole eye ecstatic and wiggling -
he swore and blasphemed each time the man spoke
from a mouth toothless and dribbling,
sat to the right of the man
was absolutely (absolutely!) nothing,
however I observed with mild humour
that both man and Hare were convinced it must be something
for the man was profusely adamant
scorning the Something for dissing the Hare's hair,
although the Hare was too busy rolling around its one eye
to even notice the man, or simply give a fu- care
"Hey hey talk to I! Hath thou seen my missing eye?!"
Hare asked from a voice shrieky and shattered
saliva running in rivets
upon the table it slopped and slavered -
then suddenly the man started singing encore
his voice cringe-worthy, out of tune,
sounding like a cat back-broke and on steroids
rocking and waving like a spastic-loon;
"If Father Time has no end,
does he even have a beginning -
oh, if there's pain is there gain,
which one of us is it that's winning?"
alas, that's when my attention was brought to the mounds
of surgical needles cluttered on the ground,
feeling sickly aura lick the back of my throat
I started backing away without a sound
["Hey hey talk to I -"]
["If there's pain is there gain -"]
["Hath thou seen my missing Missing MISSING EYE?!!"]
#FLASH!#
the dystopian landscape around me melted
into a field of bloated poppies -
serene, scarlet and blinding 'neath the sun,
feasting upon our charred bodies.
AJ
Apr 21, 2015
Apr 21, 2015 at 5:23 PM UTC
i'll admit it
i'm just trying to score some prozac;
something to supplement the steroids
that never seemed to ease the pain.
my body never
tolerated
anything they gave me:
all their alcohol distraction,
all their **** carelessness,
all their acid lifestyle,
none of it.
as for ecstasy,
i never got the dosage right:
i've been offered ersatz masterpieces
and turned them all down,
so they sacrificed their snatches to other gods,
who happily and hungrily partook in the
appetizing, dangerous bounty for which there is no cure.
i was once appeased for my lust
and committed love crimes,
so i learned not take ecstasy
until i tried the steroids.
i'll admit it
i'm just a pair of eyes
in a white ocean
May 3, 2011
May 3, 2011 at 1:46 PM UTC
I am the pretender
You must precensor
When I'm an inventor
Who can't get centered
I'm the apologist
You're the psychologist
We have a suitable deal
You provide an even keel
And cook delicious meals
And let my fingers feel
But you do so much more
Going deeper than the shore
You make a difference
By insistence
I see your footprints
In the distance
They lead me to progress
My mind cannot process
Those things I can't fathom
You effortlessly grab them
You were my bastion of behavior
I thought you were my savior
You're more like Charles Xavier
Controlling my mind
To keep me blind
By taking my vision
When you make your incision
And put me in prison
You're Sigmund Freud
On steroids
You fill my void
Then get annoyed
You cured me of my madness
Yet instilled sadness
When I got addicted to your healing
But then heard your tires peeling
After all your analysis
You deemed me talentless
You used to be my example of what to be
Now you're my example of what to flee
You made me hate the number three
While running my car into a tree
Which made me scream ouch
My ejection from your couch
So I hide in my palace
And drink from a chalice
Filled with mindless malice
While holding my phallus
But I learned my lesson
One last confession
Someone that can calm my brain
Can also leave a permanent stain
Jan 29, 2018
Jan 29, 2018 at 2:25 PM UTC
I pretend to be a doctor on my free time
Delivering free pizza to house wives
Playing games on my calculator
vs.
Arguing with the math teacher
Receiving a letter, spreading butter, taking my birth control.
I draw an animal poorly, and a corn dog.
Bottle rockets and fire crackers.
Steroids and M80’s.
I love life,
But not really,
‘Cause I have 18 kids.
Jun 26, 2010
Jun 26, 2010 at 7:42 PM UTC
*Throw up,
now strip your fear from your illness
speak of dogs chasing dolls
but don't know the difference between
one's inner-self and a mirage.
Feel the sweat trickle down
yeah that putrid aroma
take you away from humanity.
Fear stricken eyes
sense of belonging
it makes you want to choke
run along and find your missing link
it's just that easy.
Turn your head and break my back
blue, yellow and green
it all makes sense now
brake your bones on a tightrope
and seek ye who snorts ecstasy.
follow the purge into an army of rebellion
Tick Tick Boom !
there goes your imagination.
taint my vocabulary
who soars within the bars of psyche.
I lost my self in the meadow
find Bambi and Pinocchio gambling on steroids
get lost in your creativity
find a haven in the flames
listen for her soul
I hear she has the best intent.
Seek purification in
the arms of a sinner
no use looking for redemption in wasteful youth
now darling fade into the night
for the dark will comfort you of all your despair
Brandy + Whisky...*
Oct 4, 2014
Oct 4, 2014 at 6:11 AM UTC
A toast! let's celebrate!
It's time to commemorate
As I demonstrate
And iterate
********* friends that I'd love to hate
Those ******* ******
With their bags full of tricks
They throw stones and sticks
Like ******* lunatics
They're bullies on steroids
What to expect?
Break my bones, calls me names
With no signs or ounce of respect
**** them
and their memes
**** them
by all means
**** them
those merciless machines
And **** them
in between
So let's toast! let's celebrate!
For this poem that I create
A tribute has been made
To my ********* friends I love to hate
Jul 23, 2015
Jul 23, 2015 at 12:06 PM UTC
born in 1975
40 odd beat
song now old
enough to buy a cold
drink
cold drink
We're hitting funk levels that shouldn't even be possible.
recommended algorithm
algorithm
recommended
for your ears only
We're hitting funk levels that shouldn't even be possible.
come band
funk funkier,
summon Brown
back from the dead.
Fibonacci's rabbit on steroids
what’s your count
Feel this beat
Fibonacci's rabbit on steroids
0, 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, 21, 34, 55,
seek me the vodoooo advice
quick turn to 23/16
(3+3+3+3+3+3+3+2)
probably overhearing
overhearing what is truly not there
it's my juju baby
over the speed limit
sound so slow
150 BPM
we’ve gone over the speed limit
billion BPM
and a
beat
direct line to NASA
monitored funk levels
from outer space
audio crackcocaine
legal be it \
this
speed deep beat
band come
come come
now
funkier,
Brown sermons
back from the dead.
James loves
brown brow
tall dark seregeti
beat
Mandingo beat
Khoudia Diop Repeats
If they got any funkier,
they'd summon James Brown
back from the dead
Fibonacci's rabbit on steroids
what’s your count
Feel this beat
Fibonacci's rabbit on steroids
0, 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, 21, 34, 55,
Warning: Do not turn the speed up to two.
YOU WILL BE OUT FUNKED.
double WITCHED
If speed is increased, wash eyes
Khoudia Diop Repeats
wash your eyes
ice cold
water
speed of sound
quicken your pace
release your soul
seek me
the vodoooo advice.
levels of funkiness been
theoretized
never imagined
achieved
born in 1975
Dumisaning
40 odd years ago.
song now old
enough to buy a cold
drink.
drink
seek me
thee vodoooo advice.
I have beaten about
this beat before.
Jan 7, 2019
Jan 7, 2019 at 11:22 AM UTC
/ what is, exactly,
the concept of fame,
within the confines...
sorry... asylum... of
the species of SUPER-POWERED
JACKED-UP chimps?
merely fungus elevation
with steroids to boot?
anti-german to the point
of anti-deutschesprechen?
my english neighbour
is this close ( )
in teaching me
the arithmetic of my right hand...
i can't get over it...
he can't look me in
the eyes,
but has to bypass talking to
me, ******** over my mother?
a fifty year old
can't look me in the face,
and has to talk down to my
mother?
sorry...
is this an englishman?!
a grown man, can't face me,
eye to eye and tell me
his grievances?!
he has to bypass
honour, dignity, courage,
using a woman?!
******* ****
thankfully the blank
pixel space is where i vent
out my anger,
rather than, unlike the stereotype
of a caveman dragging
a woman by her hair...
me? middle and ring finger...
dipped into the mouth...
and then dragged...
never mind biting along
the way...
but i'd drag the **** of a "man"
with those fingers lodged in
its mouth...
to the nearest whipping
point...
and scold him...
until a leather belt would feel
like pouring boiling water
onto his buttocks!
- this is not an englishman...
this is...
a ******* cookie,
a Y.A.
"protagonist".
Jul 20, 2018
Jul 20, 2018 at 11:31 PM UTC
Her words stabbed me,
her shivery frosted words,
gouged my eyes out,
scooped them out with the grace of
an armless ***** on steroids and
spilled my guts on the ground.
Then she left me to die in the desert of forgottenness.Where the scavengers stripped me to the bone
and the sun bleached moon, gazed upon my essence then drank deep and loud.
My mind is now vulcanized.
my mind has been treated with sulfur to enhance it's durability.
So, you can stretch it,
and say what you want baby
cos I don't give a ****
Feb 1, 2013
Feb 1, 2013 at 4:16 PM UTC
I was melting, right here, finding every. thing.,
a little (too) bright,uneven,on the couch,
when you called me I felt my
throat tighten- breathed in-
your name on a screen.
thesecondtolastring
“It’s all about timing.”
Sep 23, 2018
Sep 23, 2018 at 6:42 PM UTC
some smells
make you retch
a rotten egg
for instance
Oct 6, 2014
Oct 6, 2014 at 9:52 AM UTC
They gave me steroids to heal my chest and now
No sleep cometh my way
So I will soak up the hour with soul cleansing writes
There is no time to worry
Work is laid aside unless wellness beacons
Maybe this is the reason
My soul was screaming for a connection
Connect I will
Mar 24, 2014
Mar 24, 2014 at 12:48 AM UTC
Chasing the dreams to touch the sky, shaking the roots of feminism;
Happy to shoot for the Vogue, Cosmopolitan and Gia's plagiarism-
All for her superstar Angel, she lived the attitude of lesbianism;
From Philadelphia to New York she sold, her fraternity and parental prism-
The ambitious gal, the ambition gal felt addicted to ******* and heroinism.
Climbing the hills in Beverly was not tough enough, shredding chastity for mean;
Hallowing for her Tomb Raider, she swallowed her city of sin-
All in her attempts she brewed her habits, she tattooed destiny for her queen;
From abortion to scandals; she breathed to see her prolific akin-
The injured gal, the pitted gal still nearly was not doomed to grin.
Succumbing like the serpentine in salt, still longing to meet her dream star;
One fine morning she was found half-dead down the alley, waging her life-war-
All the fever she had, yet not looking to get out of the foxfire;
From one hospital to another, she was taken and was declared a patient of cancer;
The lucky gal, the ******* gal was lame enough to meet her jester.
The tumor had eaten her bones, like the steroids that made her a body-
Donating a million dollars in charity, made a brief appearance by Angelina Jollie;
All in her graceful charm, she penetrated hope to fight the disease folly-
From a life directionless to the motive of her strife, she kissed her cheeks and regretted being silly-
The ambitious gal, the ambition gal had just a single day to cherish her so called glory.
Jul 13, 2010
Jul 13, 2010 at 4:15 AM UTC
the Internet sets
higher aspirations
a teaching guide,
on how to
go beyond and deep into
the fast lane's curved and wide,
stretching
the straight and narrow
longer than lasting,
lasting no longer than
memory feelings
blurred overlapping burnt edged video recordings
pores pour oil and noise,
differentiating little between
beginning ending continuous
in the mind, from the walls,
Santana Rob sings "Smooth,"
but it is
the guitar wailing controlled penetrations.
a national anthem
of driven perpetual needy fomenting
outspoken physical truths
you don't care how you
got there,
where you are,
anybody's name,
high octane high performance
*** today,
is not for
the shy and the retiring, sissies,
we all got the necessary expertise,
with violin accompanist of pharma teaching aids
recalling first time tumblings,
exhaling
deep down throated rumblings,
rushing
fumbling ********* an ****** innocence
rushes of surprise and discovery,
success of feeling successful,
the shame of miscommunications
think I'm gonna watch me
a romantic comedy,
write her a love poem,
come up from behind,
caress her *******
kidding kissing her ear lobes,
then entering her entry point,
her neck
even when she is
armed
but forgiving,
busy chopping dinner's vegetables,
make them make them
give up the hidden
soft atonal squealing
like a
piccolo on steroids,
high pitch teasing,
pinched by air ****** intaking
I'll play the bass,
hitting those low notes,
********* my own strings,
deep ooh's and aah's
diode emitting,
the drug employed
is unadulterated
wanton but wanted
desire
this won't be the poem of the day,
no mind,
it already is was and
will be...
Mar 29, 2015
Mar 29, 2015 at 7:27 AM UTC
Everyone’s so **** far
away
Everything is on steroids
And as all we know
Swells to sizes more
Than even god planed
They inevitably come in between us
The way a 70 inch TV splits a family apart
To opposite hemispheres of their “living”- room -world
“Can you hear me over there Brother? Sister?”
“Not listening.”
“Can’t see you.”
Electronic wedges that push us farther
And farther from our fathers
“Dad I just called because you never
answered my textual message
And email is too slow as you well know.”
“Come home son.” He concedes
“I lost my way home pop.”
“You’re right, I guess the 50’s are done and The Wonder Years
is long out of syndication.”
So I’m an alien on this ******* like stretch of land.
Ponce de Leon would claim it for his peninsula as
A peninsula of eternal life
A greater man than I would label it “The happiest place on earth.”
But all I know is this:
This earthen ***** might as well be an island off the coast of nowhere
Gainesville might as well be in Russia, rather
The Steppes of Asia Minor
And you most certainly are
An aberration from a softer night far ago
I guess I’ll see it all half full and live
In my State of Confusion
Located somewhere between the North and South Pole
Call it self pity, but no one but people like me understand
The concept of one million miles
Meet me halfway, someplace if you agree
Live in States of Unknown
So then you will
Always have a home
Dec 23, 2009
Dec 23, 2009 at 2:19 PM UTC