Is your MOM addicted to drugs?All answers are appreciated…if you would be willing to read it and tell me what you think..leave a comment and i will post it so you can read it…it is a poem about how a fathers drug addiction affected his daughter…i believe it is a very good poem, it hits home…so please, leave a website or let me know if your willing to read it over
THANK YOU SO MUCH! :)
http://thisishowfarwevecome.deviantart.com/art/He-chose-drugs-over-me-156331374
this is one of my poems…i will be adding more like it soon
Addiction to foundation and lip gloss
Self abuse through high heels and stomach strinking diets
Bitchy jokes whispered through conditioned hair.
I will give it all to my daughter
My sisters will never see a day when can all live together as an equal sex today
we can* all live
I slowly wake from another painful nights sleep. The dry leaves crunch underneath me as I gradually get up off the hard ground, shaded by the trees above. My eyes adjust to the light, I look around at the familiar surroundings. A long dry and dusty road with no cars, grassy paddocks with no cattle, everything is dry except the few tall gum trees. I sit back down on the hard ground, slowly pulling my old, worn boots on.
I follow a path lining an old barbwire fence. I walk in silence for a while until I reach a small creek. I kneel down by the gentle stream of water. I see a tired old man staring back, his dull lifeless face peering up at me. I cup my hands, dip them down and drink for a while before I get up again.
I make my way down that dusty road. It’s not long until I reach the near by country town. People stare at me but it’s no different to any other day, some nod hello acknowledging my presence, others ignore me, trying not to stare. I soon reach the wooden bench where I sit and spend my lonely days. Watching the people go by, wandering in and out of the small strip of shops.
Something catches my eye, standing out amongst the litter and scrap caught in the gutter. I can already see it’s a scratchy of some sort. Any other person would have seen it as just another piece of rubbish. I bend down to pick it up. It has already been scratched. Mustn’t be a winner, I take a closer look and to my astonishment I see that I have won $25,000. I’ve never won anything before. I quickly pocket it and make my way back along the dusty road.
I slept slightly better last night knowing I’d have a good day just because of a little piece of paper. I make my way back towards the town. I walk for a short distance before I arrive at the bench where I found my fortune. I keep walking, past the shops ‘til I reach the station. The city train is just pulling in. I get on the first carriage. The steady motion of the train lets me drift off into a light sleep. An hour goes by and I wake up three stops before mine.
The train grinds to a halt. I shuffle over towards the door. A mother grips onto her young daughter, who’s glancing up at me. I may be homeless but that doesn’t mean I’m any less of a genuine person. Busy people get off and on the train. I exit the station, walking down the noisy city streets. I pass a busy corner. A homeless man sits and stares blankly into the heards of people rushing by.
I come to the city a lot. It’s an interesting place to be, so different from the country, always loud and busy. I soon find myself outside of a tall grey building. I walk in. I feel the many eyes stare. I walk to the front desk, a neatly dresses lady sits behind it.
“Can I help you, Sir?” she asks
“Could you tell me where the Scratch ‘n’ Win Regional Office is?” I reply
“Thirty third floor, room 1509,” she answers
I wander over to where the elevators are. My stumpy, grubby finger presses the little arrow button. Bing! The left elevators doors open, I walk into the elevator. Everyone else decides to wait for another, they don’t want to be stuck with me. The doors start to shut before a man stops them with his hand. I see him eye my scratchy as he enters.
“Twenty five grand, that’s a lot. Do you know what your gonna do with that money?” he says enthusiastically
“Um, not quite sure yet,” I reply politely
“You could invest that you know, triple it,” he responds
You could say that I’m not good with managing money, I don’t have much of it and I hadn’t really thought of investing it.
“I’m good with that kind of stuff, business and all that,” he rambles on as I ponder his proposal
Two Weeks Later
Looking back now you might say I got greedy. That man in the elevator turned out to be a con artist.
I walk down the little trail to the creek to have a drink.
I found out it was a scam a couple of days later, unfortunately after he’d gotten his hands on my winnings. I managed to save myself $50. And the first thing I bought was a pair of new boots.
I look down into the water. An old man smiles back at me. He looks happy and comfortable with who he is. His familiar face reminds me of the joy of a simple life.
© copyright 2009 under the author’s name
Mother and Me
walkin in where ya bin
you wobblin quivering wide eyes dribbling,
you got smack
50 grams of crack.
moneys gone
you talking wrong
where ya coming from
ya sapposed to be ma mom
you taking heroin faster than adrenalin again,
why ya doing this, ya killin me and our family
mom is this they it was ment to be
getting reefa of the streets
taking ecstasy like sweets
there giving out happy pills more than fire drills,
“ mom don’t do it, im through with it , ya blaming dad.
He’s gone he’s the past only memories ya neva had.
Since age 4 I didn’t no who you where anymore
I guess getting high was your way of sayin goodbye
I never ment to see you die
Dad shouting at the door
quarter ta four
like veitnam war
ya screaming for no more
face is soar
he keeps slamming it off the floor
blood streaming
but I hear no more screaming
I think im dreamin
but I don’t see breathin
(priest) “here lies the boady of mrs smith
yet her existance is a myth
the only thing she knew was how to make a good spliff
Rehab was her home
she had a drug syndrome
vodka was her water
she was her mothers daughter
but died of man-slaughter”
social services came the other day
said they where taking me away
to a happy place
without murder and hate
I guess this was my fate
I cant look at your face
okay so this is just the first verse.
you should be able to pick up the beat easy
All these pills I pop
Take some more til im hot
Sweat just drips from the tips of my toes
And the end of my nose
Cause no one knows
Where this story will go
Its all so heavy
This feeling that im getting
In goes some more. Alright, ready. Steady
Go. Move
On to the next, celebrity rehab junkie.
Nah I aint clownin dog. This sh*t aint funny.
This feelin that you get in the bottom of your tummy.
It’s the thoughts you get that just make you sick
To your stomach.
Their crying your name. you know you want it.
A few more pills to fill you in
Give me some Valium,
Some Vicodin,
Some Percocet, just to begin.
Here ya go, swallow,
Wobble, gobble, fall
Onto your daughter’s bed
You didn’t seem to think at all
‘Bout what she’d think when she sees you laying there
Barely on the bed with crushed pills brushed through your hair
“Ellie baby, you know that Mommy loves you and she always will,
But Mommy has to take this pill before she starts to feel.”
And the worst part about it is you know eventually she will
Think back to this moment, just replay it
Over and over again.