Setting Sun

   This was inspired by watching the damage caused by hard drugs. The rise of drug use in my area has stolen many young lives recently. Perhaps you also  have witnessed this on your local news. Without insurance of their own or parents, kids are being lost.  There are little to no recourses for these kids when they do cry for help. Everyone cannot afford Betty Ford or Malibu in U.S.A.  Prison might be their only survival, but then, prisons are over-filled,  full of nasty drugs as well.

SETTING SUN

Each morning’s painful breath you took,

your body screamed -

addiction gleamed.

Sharp points and rusty spoons; you cook.

 

To rid the touch of crawling skin,

hot needle prick -

perhaps get sick.

Warm rush cements the deadly sin.

 

A long exhale - all worries drain;

erase torment,

without lament.

Your precious scars walk deep in vein.

 

As pain subsides from tender soul,

the prophets cry -

to watch you fly.

The needle swept you in a hole.

 

First glimpse of sun ignites the crave,

as pain returns -

the stomach churns.

Ignoring death’s note etched on grave.

 

Collapsing veins of rivers gone,

in search for new -

within eye’s view.

Dead lines depict a lifestyle drawn.

 

Sad eyes with black holes blindly stray,

to be so lost -

at such a cost.

Their struggle sickens by the day.

 

The needle and the damage done,

Neil Young once wrote -

a famous quote:

“A junkie’s like a setting sun.”

 

_TheMsLvh   © 2011

Image source: The Grantham Journal

submitted to The Sunday Whirl #16

California Ink In Motion by TheMsLvh is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License

Broken Wings

Image inspired..  this is simply poetic expression. 

 

 

 

Close the windows and lock the door,

I cannot take this anymore.

Throwing down the cards, fold my hand.

This is not what I had planned

 

I have not been myself lately,

skilled knives have mended so greatly-

the bones, but lost my will to sing.

Gravity won and broke my wings

 

There’s no more fear in the breakdown,

I have lost the will not to drown.

So easy to ride, down this slide,

can’t you see it in my dark eyes?

  

I’ve been good at wearing the mask,

to hide the tears, so they don’t ask.

Such busy lives, no time to spare,

so let me go, for I’m not scared.

 

I have slipped far, this time dear,

ready to quit the game, no fear.

Into a hole where time has ceased,

longing to claim my soul deceased.

 

No metaphors to shield the weak,

silence is what I crave, don’t speak.

Has nothing to do with you dear,

it’s just as plain and clear…

 

to me…so,

 

Close the windows and lock the door,

I cannot take this anymore.

Throwing down the cards, fold my hand.

This is not what I had planned

 

 

-TheMsLvh © 2011

Image source http://www.layoutsparks.com

California Ink In Motion by TheMsLvh is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.

Drown a Flask

  

 

Confusion purl inside my head,

sad thoughts besiege this weary soul.

Words spoken - carelessly said,

alone, I plummet down a hole.

 

Can eyes see pain behind my mask,

concealing anguish buried deep?

Escape your own pain, drown a flask,

Your pseudo façade makes you weep.

 

Expressions glaring dissension,

this anger boils your mad face red.

The wine color brings forth tension,

unsaid words scratch till hearts are shred. 

 

Appears to be a no-win lot,

old patterns never seem to lie.

Let distance heal this love torn knot,

before time takes toll and we die.

 

 

-TheMsLvh © 2011

image source: Google image

 

 

California Ink In Motion by TheMsLvh is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License

The Aftermath; A horse and man

Amazing steed with hair silk white,
beauty graced – shadowed the moonlight.
No spiraled horn nor wings of flight;
earthbound hoofs pranced with sheer delight.

Adorned with crown, rider takes mount;
dreams of triumph fail to surmount.
From battles, deeply soul-engaged;
throws down stained spears – his heart enraged.

Battles drummed, he answered the call,
left scarred, yet survived above all.
Tattered vest – arrows injected,
war left his soul unprotected.

High on his horse with thoughts impure,
close his eyes to the world obscure.
Finds great solace - the rhythmic gait,
dark shadows of war bearing weight.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
TheMsLvh © 2011 *Special thanks to Mike Patrick for introducing me to meter and feet

image source:http://devilry.deviantart.com/gallery/#/d2ylrrm

California Ink In Motion by TheMsLvh is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License

I Heart Hockey

“I hesitate even to give voice to my problems;
it is not what is commonly known as my style.”
Envisioning stars upon kissing the ice,
Hockey is the game, been skating for a while.

“But you were kind enough to ask — and I
deeply and sincerely appreciate your concern.”
Need to stop this excessive ringing in my ear
requesting this to the doctors, expressing what I yearn.

“The tinkling of a glass in a restaurant
     a child at play
      a motorcyclist on the street
       a lawnmower or even a bird
        all can make sounds which are difficult to process.”
Alas, there has been some progress.

Blood on the ice flowed from my broad chiseled chin
simply sutured delicately by trained and sturdy hand.
One problem solved, restoring my bruised skin
Damn this excessive ringing! This I had not planned.

“I wish I could say your concern is no longer needed,
but, alas, the progress of the recovery has been glacial at best.
It is frustrating and it can be very depressing, for
I am normally one of the most positive people I know.”

For which everyone can attest!

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
-TheMsLvh © copyright 5-27-11
*Poem inspired by a dear friend Robert S.*

California Ink In Motion by TheMsLvh is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.
Photo – LATimes.com

Mother’s Day: Of Course You Would Call

So guarded, I answered the phone
as it was mother’s special day
not yet a word since he had flown
did that incident made him grow?
all was well when he threw that stone
deciding to leave me alone
with gnarly cut I could not stop
the bleeding, like a butcher’s chop.

Hesitating, I said hello
heart pounding fast, skipping a beat
air left the room, so hard to breath
asked,” On this fine day, how are you?”
answered, “Thank you, I’m fine indeed.”
knowing you, I would not concede
and ever admit to the bleed
nor would I reduce to anger
I knew that it would only feed.

Room closed in, dark edge in my eyes
straining lungs begging for some life
I listened to his hopeful lies
with his goal to be wanted back in
manipulate with skillful knife
a skill he owns, honed on my soul
true rebellion his only goal.

But of course, I knew he would call
so friendly on that mother’s day
when hearts reminiscing the pain
vulnerable voice, strong though I stay
he spoke announcing his campaign
testing the waters under bridge.

Wild racing thoughts;  yet I constrain
nor did I ask him to explain.

-TheMsLvh 5-8-11 © 2011

*oh, the memories!*

California Ink In Motion by TheMsLvh is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License