Drug Rehabilitation, quick and easy
Posts tagged poem
Q&A: What do you think about this poem?
Feb 18th
Question by Jay T: What do you think about this poem?
This is a poem called
“The Life I chose”
This is about the life we all choose, to follow everyday
working in a factory, no heat at home, barely getting paid
you struggle to pay the rent when its due, no matter what the price
you making sure your kids fed, rolling with a new crew, we aint nice
we making crack sales, bud, scripts, it dont matter your fix
you think its all fun and games, but the police playing tricks
to try to get you indicted, in prison for a federal offense
as the cops roll by, the trigger fingers get tense
people think that everybody selling has a choice,
but alot us of are born into it, with a silenced voice
this business you wanna get into, isnt very smart
coming out alive, or not in prison is a real thug art
not many can support a child on welfare, almost impossible
rolling down the streets, seeing the dealers lair, he’s unstoppable
you cant stop it by throwing money at the problems
even if the mayor says his promise is solemn
but this isnt just about the ghetto life, its inside every home
lets move to California, finding a young girl all alone
she was raised in a nice area, but suffered from the booze in her house
when she returned from school, her mother bruised, with blood on her blouse
she listened as the beatings continued, trying to save her own life
she is growing up afraid to be a woman, never to be a wife
she cuts herself to try to alleviate the pain, no matter how deep
the cuts keep going, she can never escape and fall asleep.
she tries to maintain a positive outlook, but is beaten into submission
she prays to who she thinks is god, as the beatings continues, just wishin
but one day, she decides to end her mothers anguish, and gets a knife
as her father smacks her mother, as his blood is drained, so is his life
she just killed her father, but cant handle what she’s done
addicted to blood, they say a junkie is like a setting sun
so she waits for the police, starts herself a gun battle
takes her daddies keys, and grabs some guns, as the ammo rattles
the first cop rolls up to the scene, to be sprayed with fire,
as if by a cop killin machine, she dares the cops to try her
they fire back, she is done fighting them, so she snaps
loads the gun, spins the chamber, and fires off her last cap
the coroner said, they found a diary, and inside was a horrible story
that showed the abuse, and violence that involved the girl named Tory
So now we go back to our homie out in Harlem
slanging the heroin, trying to pay for his street stardom
but slowly he began a deadly course, which he couldn’t supply
they say Scarface failed the rule, as did he, always gettin high
he doesnt make his profit like he used to, now he using
not a dealer anymore, lost the money, now he abusing
so he getting strung out all day, but searches for a god to pray
he found one, and know is cleaner, following what jesus would say
now its been 15 years since his horrible, addiction that led to his disease
he has the A-I-D-S, but has a child and is begging god please
let his child be sparred from his, incurable fate
not knowing it isnt his, but his wife had gotten raped
so he dies a man, thinking his son will die
but now we all know, that his son never said goodbye
to a real man, who woulda loved him the same
even if the things he did, were horrible, just to maintain
so hopefully we know the sad story, no matter where you from
you life can be gory, but drowning all the pain that we carry in rum
doesnt stop, what happens everyday, in every spot
hopefully theres a heaven, that we have all forgot,
so we can live in eternal peace, never hell
people feel they are there, in a prison cell
maybe we can adapt, to stop the shit from the past
but maybe we repeat, just like the generation last
Hopefully its good, umm 1-10 guys, Thanks
Best answer:
Answer by AlbanianChica98
9.5 Very Good!
Add your own answer in the comments!
Just a little poem I wrote when I was bored. What ya think?
Jan 26th
Question by hεα†hεя mαяïε εïз: Just a little poem I wrote when I was bored. What ya think?
I just took some Benzedrine, Percoset, Codeine, Dusted up,
Smoked weed, Candy flipped and popped in Visine.
So my timing may be off. I vaporize to fuel the cough.
Adrenaline is pressuring. Doctor bring the medicine.
Some Ketamine, Vicodin, Xanax, and Anthrax.
I’m hiding all my needle tracks. I’m fighting off heart attacks,
nosebleeds, cheap speed, shitty weed, getting frisky,
dirty deeds, sippin whiskey on my knees.
About to burn out, crooked mouth on another bout.
I’m chillin in a glass house pouring another glass out.
I’m going in my stash now, there ain’t nothing.
I ain’t using GHB, LSD, Valium and Ecstasy.
Pop Mescaline with Mexicans, put Ether in my napkin.
I’ve got so many skeletons, I’m a chemical reaction.
I’m pissed off, pissed on express addiction through this song.
Half my memory is gone, the X in me lets me belong.
I can’t help but to help myself. I’m losing my mind, I need help.
Filling my mind with doubt, I’ll do anything to get out….
5 a.m fully geeked, sweat trickling down my cheek.
Mouth bone dry, can’t even speak the cover girl for Heroin Chic.
The enemy inside of me pressures me intentionally.
Coke Wench, Tweaker Bitch, Cock Tease,
Best friend park bench, make the switch of these.
A few of them I woke up, bent, my money spent,
how am I gonna pay the rent.
My sugar daddy needs the ends, my dealer is my new best friend.
Waking up in strangers beds with these voice’s in my head.
Drunk Slut, Coke Blunts, Junkie Bitch, Bathroom Bumps.
Homeless Broken, out of luck and really just don’t give a FUCK..
Uneffective, Unemployed, Unstable, Null and Void.
My vanity has been destroyed, the famine keeps me paranoid.
Blacked out, White lines, High balls, Crooked spine.
Comatose, Overdose, took to the borderline.
Sirens, Ambulance, doctor’s cuttin off my pants.
Black and Blue in the ICU, I’ve got a 50/50 chance!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i
Best answer:
Answer by Murf
Wow ! I’ve been in recovery for 17 years and that poem brings it all back like a nightmare! It practically had me sick to my stomach! Please get some help so you and your talent don’t go down the toilet. I did it in N.A.
Know better? Leave your own answer in the comments!
Poem, again any thoughts?
Dec 31st
Question by LIL ØFFAFØ – Underoath Fanboy#1: Poem, again any thoughts?
I light matchsticks in the middle of the day,
Just to see the way the smoke floats,
Under sheets of the golden sun rays I stand,
And peel back my skeleton to see what you say,
Do you see the way the bones look,
Please take a photograph and put it on your wall,
So you can look inside me and let me know,
‘Am I lying that with you love was too hard to show’.
I have these fluorescent lights stuck in my veins,
So when it’s night I can still pump the Heroin,
Don’t think twice about me yes I’m a junkie,
But does that make me any worse then you,
I don’t believe so cause your the one who rapes,
The minds of the innocent and the young.
Place yourself up on that throne,
I will be the earthquake that makes you fall.
Best answer:
Answer by “Music is a Religion”
Wow I really liked this one
Good Write =)
Give your answer to this question below!
DO YOU THINK MY POEM IS GOOD? I WANT TO ENTER IT INTO A CONTEST?
Dec 29th
Question by : DO YOU THINK MY POEM IS GOOD? I WANT TO ENTER IT INTO A CONTEST?
Brandy
I lost my lucky shirt today.
It didn’t mean much until I lost my car keys and my clutch
Stuck…
I lost my love. Loosing simple things means reminding me of losing you….
This is a story of boy meets girl, And loves her until she left the world.
Once upon a time there lived a girl named Brandy and a boy named Dee. Brandy was a conservative painter child. And Dee was the skater poet who made her smile. Everything was gold they lived off needles and sunshine. And Dee the handsome crook whipped the needles for her to get hi. Dee made her wet between her thies…and she liked it. Brandy made him feel good inside. And he liked it, but now.
Love is outdated, sex is overrated
Trust is debated, and a junkie’s heartache is elated
But I will rephrase it. Love is that feeling we keep chasing
Whether it’s getting hi or in the worlds placement, but we never find it. Because sin has misplaced it
Brandy is putting the lighter under the spoon while she licks her heartache woons
And Dee, well Dee is useless.
She is getting ready in the mirror for Dee to take her out on a Saturday night
Singing nursery rhymes and applying make up for her addition to hide
I write. I wonder what she would do if i jumped out the window and died. Like I already am inside
She might cry, Mrs. Junkie loves me, Sometimes.
As she is lying on the bed intoxicated unaware of her surroundings, she is looking up at me and smiling and pouting, she loves me…Sometimes.
Usually only when heroin takes her for a ride, and at my funeral she will most likely say the ullage
But again she usually, only loves me when I am goofy
Or when I feed her addiction or when she’s shopping for jewelry
The monkey on her back is a part of my heart; it’s in my heart like the monkey on her back
She is in rehab for drugs, and I am in rehab for love
She escapes usually, to come get a fix and escape rehab
So put the lighter under the spoon. Stick it in and lets both relapse. I hate when she begs and scratch
She doesn’t have to I fiend for her to, or does she fiend for the needle in my pocket I carry? So i light the spoon for her, and she gives me her comfort
We are junkies, Junkies of love.
I lost my mind today, I lost control today
I could not resist her, but it was a dream
I visited her grave today; I am a man so I do not cry
But I can still feel the tears running inside
I miss her.
Brandy…
Best answer:
Answer by ♥вlυe cнιld♥
too story like
What do you think? Answer below!
IS THIS POEM GOOD? I WANT TO ENTER IT IN A CONTEST?
Dec 27th
Question by : IS THIS POEM GOOD? I WANT TO ENTER IT IN A CONTEST?
Brandy
I lost my lucky shirt today.
It didn’t mean much until I lost my car keys and my clutch
Stuck…
I lost my love. Loosing simple things means reminding me of losing you….
This is a story of boy meets girl, And loves her until she left the world.
Once upon a time there lived a girl named Brandy and a boy named Dee. Brandy was a conservative painter child. And Dee was the skater poet who made her smile. Everything was gold they lived off needles and sunshine. And Dee the handsome crook whipped the needles for her to get hi. Dee made her wet between her thies…and she liked it. Brandy made him feel good inside. And he liked it, but now.
Love is outdated, sex is overrated
Trust is debated, and a junkie’s heartache is elated
But I will rephrase it. Love is that feeling we keep chasing
Whether it’s getting hi or in the worlds placement, but we never find it. Because sin has misplaced it
Brandy is putting the lighter under the spoon while she licks her heartache woons
And Dee, well Dee is useless.
She is getting ready in the mirror for Dee to take her out on a Saturday night
Singing nursery rhymes and applying make up for her addition to hide
I write. I wonder what she would do if i jumped out the window and died. Like I already am inside
She might cry, Mrs. Junkie loves me, Sometimes.
As she is lying on the bed intoxicated unaware of her surroundings, she is looking up at me and smiling and pouting, she loves me…Sometimes.
Usually only when heroin takes her for a ride, and at my funeral she will most likely say the ullage
But again she usually, only loves me when I am goofy
Or when I feed her addiction or when she’s shopping for jewelry
The monkey on her back is a part of my heart; it’s in my heart like the monkey on her back
She is in rehab for drugs, and I am in rehab for love
She escapes usually, to come get a fix and escape rehab
So put the lighter under the spoon. Stick it in and lets both relapse. I hate when she begs and scratch
She doesn’t have to I fiend for her to, or does she fiend for the needle in my pocket I carry? So i light the spoon for her, and she gives me her comfort
We are junkies, Junkies of love.
I lost my mind today, I lost control today
I could not resist her, but it was a dream
I visited her grave today; I am a man so I do not cry
But I can still feel the tears running inside
I miss her.
Brandy…
Best answer:
Answer by DOUGHboy
Ok.
Know better? Leave your own answer in the comments!
Q&A: what do you think of this poem?
Sep 2nd
Question by alexandre: what do you think of this poem?
Heroin
Submerged in fury
for the trouble of youth,
repenting in broken-toothed age.
Every junkie thinks he’s Jesus to begin with.
Sometimes phrases just come out of nowhere, I don’t know if I’d use something that didn’t make any kind of sense to me though. Having said that, everyone’s got their own ideas of ‘sense’.
P.S; Greyhound buses is fine, reminds me of Ginsberg.
Best answer:
Answer by Rouxe
It has some inventive lines but it is not enough… add more!
Know better? Leave your own answer in the comments!




