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Poetry

Author: Megan K.

Sober Struggle

Down I fall,

It grips me tighter.

My soul forgot,

That I’m a fighter.

It hides until I’m

Idle thinking.

I thought it stopped,

When I stopped drinking.

But it lurks around,

The corner store.

It doesn’t strike,

Until it’s sure.

That every piece,

Is set in place.

To distract me from,

My new found faith.

To remind me that,

It’s here to stay.

No matter how

I choose to pray.

This deamon will not

Leave my side.

But I’ll never run

Away to hide.

Behind the booze,

Or a drug house chair.

God will show me,

He is there.

Falling on my

Bended knees.

They say the bad

Will come in threes.

I’ve counted more,

Throughout my time.

I think God thought,

I needed nine.

These sober days

Have filled my soul.

A diamond made,

From pressured coal.

Rough days come,

I lose my sight.

If I reach out,

He’ll shine a light.

I’ll follow it,

And find my way.

My God is Love,

Amen, I pray.

 

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Author: Megan K. Sober Struggle Down I fall, It grips

Poetry

Author: Chris G.

Gonna be a problem.

From the second you entered my body,
And swept through like a warm soothing wave.
I knew instantaneously,
You were gonna be a problem,
I laid down in pain when I’d go without your embrace,
Feeling a dire sense of relief the moment I got a taste,
Being surrounded by many in the same situation,
All different,
Yet the same we were all in drug nation,
Some of us past and didn’t come back,
While those left behind talking like it was nothing while taking hits of crack,
All aware of how this fucking nightmare could end,
Unable to get past the drugs being our one and only friend,
This problem of mine leading only to death,
Never stopped me from stopping even til my almost last breath,
Been dead now too many times to reflect about,
I have to pull away Problem you can’t keep me in doubt,
It pains me to walk away from those ‘good times’ we had,
But reality of it is those ‘good times’ were truly all bad,
I miss you sometimes the way you hugged me within,
Til I think of how much of me you had actually taken,
So middle fingers raised high in salute,
To my old friend Problem who has finally gotten the boot.

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Author: Chris G. Gonna be a problem. From the

Personal Journeys, Poetry

Author: Sam M.

We meet again my vicious friends…
It’s been a while thought I was changing my style
Still I needed you that is no denial
Life constantly flows like the Nile
Everyone knows if I’m ill it’s you who I dial
Can never be true as I bundle my shit up in a pile
Out the door I try to go
You’re pissed I’m face down on the floor I know
I laugh then crack a joke
Pick myself up see change fuck I’m broke
I don’t fit in I hang with different folk
Hitting rails I pluck my guitar with a deadly stroke On edge so I shoot before I smoke
With death I’m flirting puking between burping Head in the toilet I’m hurting
Craving a buzz so I’m slurring
Later driving to cop lost in thought severely swerving
If I’m being honest the chaos looked good in the pot I’m stirring
My mistake I don’t abide I try an hide it with a tarp Is this real or fake on either side when failure cuts it’s sharp
If offered I take
Inhale the life in my heart that’s beginning to break Quickly kicking in “numbing” the pain as I shake
The come down vibe is gasping treading water in a bottomless lake
Puzzled thoughts as I keep up the doggy paddle for my daughters sake
I’ve no preserver I see a demon I yell “No I will not dessert her”
Proceed to decline last year was a blur
Fuck this chaos I ain’t having her lick the spoon right after I stir
I snap back…
I realize I’m losing to this demon
Farther I fall soon to be sleeping
After I’ll interact with objects to show y’all I’m speaking
Pitch black I fall deeper and deeper
Feels like I’m on a track blowing the lead to a sleeper or second half Atlanta losing big with no fans on a singular bleacher…I black out…
Hypothetically speaking to my Mother screaming are you proud of your oldest
“Son you have a warm heart but strut around the coldest five foot ten but forever pulling sticks that keep you the shortest”
Mom’s a heavily educated nurse see at the time medically she fought and prayed the younger me received help to a certain degree…
I can see the light
Been doing wrong so long this feels right
Then my eyes dart open…
I picture staring at my soul
The body’s way of trickery when there’s a taste of charcoal
Ranting and raving “I’m no longer a healthy host” Visions run wild of me taking the form of a ghost
I feel my heart barely skipping
The devil gained a resident I hear snickering
The demon says “sit down and reflect on the precious time you’ll be missing”
His evil face inching closer I’m scared shitless
Then out from the abyss with an angel as my witness I engaged fight or flight in an instant
A stern voice is now speaking “Your last chance too much time you’ve been stealing constant agony the opposite of relieving Sam hurt is necessary when you’re healing”
My head shoots through that blue ceiling
Chest filling with air it’s so appealing
Now whispers of an early death refrain from speaking
I reach land glance back at the deadly pair fading Courageously I 180 a pencil to practice erasing…Life is a rough draft continuously proofread floating on a poorly designed raft…
For me that’s heard at a different volume..
I keep myself on the forefront
When I unwelcome the generous offer of a shortcut
Irrelevant when I hear them judge
Carnage behind me it’s okay to hold that grudge
Numb to insults I will never budge
Knowing what spews out they mouth leaves a trail of sludge…
This is forever everyday I’m getting better I step outside regardless of terrible weather look up and thank God that we doing this together

When life gives you lemons make orange juice and leave them wondering…lastly I ask…a moment of silence for the still sick and suffering

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Author: Sam M. We meet again my vicious