Scribbles from a Word Slinger (part seven)

 

The following three scribes are amongst the most serious I’ve ever written.  I would normally say please enjoy but this would not be right to say in this respect so instead I will just say please read:  

The Junkie
They pray to you Lord – what is it this time?
Her sons at your door, too many white lines,
The prayers they are strong, but his will is too weak,
Is his soul to be taken as his body rests deep?
What are you thinking as men in white coats,
Attack you with science to relinquish the ghost,
Are you right? Are they wrong? – It was his choice to face,
The killer he wanted, the dragon he chased,
His veins they are slain and his blood is not clean,
Yet still there is hope – still they believe,
But if he is brought from darkness to light,
Will there be faith strong enough to fight?
The craving, the needle, the hunger, the pain,
The family comes close to help take the strain,
They sit there in silence, awaiting a sign,
But the sign is not coming – its over – F L A T L I N E
 
Despair
The steam starts to rise as the water turns red,
The wrists slain and open, the life is soon dead,
Poor young girl weighted down with life’s problems,
Lay in a tub hoping now she has solved them,
The water’s still running,  
The eyes start closing,
The room becomes darker,
The tear drops cease flowing,
Her mother cries out as she falls to the floor,
Questioning why her daughter’s no more,
Where was the help when she needed it most?
Society too busy – her family a ghost,
But now they feel guilty – now is too late,
The girl’s in the past, a victim of hate,
She hated her life,
Her present,
Her future,
She saw the way out – the blade was the cure,
Her bed is now empty,
Her grave is now full,
For the souls who have suffered,
God blesses them all.
 
Velvet Seas
A little girl with hands to God asks will she sleep tonight?
Or will her father come to her to say his own goodnight,
Confused, alone, a child so young with secrets never told,
Abused by trust, abused by love – a love that’s turned ice cold,
With eyes shut tight she travels to a world of lullabies,
With liquid dreams and velvet seas, a place where she can hide,
Hide from fear and hide from hands that touch forbidden fruit,
That lacerates the orchard where the trees no longer root,
A requiem now haunts this place, a place now insecure,
A sacrifice that has been made to keep the spirit pure,
The light comes on, the door creaks to and tears they start to fall,
Pretend to sleep, pretend to dream – the velvet seas they call,
With Teddy’s hand within her hand and with her cheeks so wet,
She hears those words, those awful words – this is our little secret.
 
Latino777 – It’s our time down here. 
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Posted on June 28, 2011, in Poetry and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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