Mother Mary, Quite Contrary
I woke up this morning,
Like a shot to the head.
Showered in shades of yellow,
Piercing my eyelids.
Pulsing to the whir over my bed.
Shaken and stirred,
With little signs of violence.
Limbs creak like wooden floors,
Mouth agape and poised but,
The breath escaping me carries no words.
There's nowhere you can hide,
When you're running from you.
Oh that trust has come and gone,
And the only kind of faith I now know,
Is the religion I'm cooking in this spoon.
The tithes are high,
And attendance is mandatory.
Make no mistake that this Mother Mary,
Doesn't give a damn about us,
And all that love is a fading lie.
I staggered my way to the bathroom,
And took a long hard look in the mirror,
At the frail, gaunt man standing before me.
"Who the fuck are you?" I asked.
"Me? Pay no mind to me, for I'm no longer here."
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Rarely post here anymore since all of my friends have moved on, but the Poets Society is still active, so what the hell. I don't have a locked-down title for this yet, the subject line is a working title though the work itself is complete. I may or may not change it, depending on how I feel about it later and any feedback I may get. Which is hopefully something! The rhyme scheme is a little funky on this one...it's so paper-thin that this is practically free-verse. Because of the nature of the subject (heroin addiction), I went with a sort of disheveled and uneven structure with just a hint of rhyme to match the state of the individual.
Like a shot to the head.
Showered in shades of yellow,
Piercing my eyelids.
Pulsing to the whir over my bed.
Shaken and stirred,
With little signs of violence.
Limbs creak like wooden floors,
Mouth agape and poised but,
The breath escaping me carries no words.
There's nowhere you can hide,
When you're running from you.
Oh that trust has come and gone,
And the only kind of faith I now know,
Is the religion I'm cooking in this spoon.
The tithes are high,
And attendance is mandatory.
Make no mistake that this Mother Mary,
Doesn't give a damn about us,
And all that love is a fading lie.
I staggered my way to the bathroom,
And took a long hard look in the mirror,
At the frail, gaunt man standing before me.
"Who the fuck are you?" I asked.
"Me? Pay no mind to me, for I'm no longer here."
-----------------------------------------------------
Rarely post here anymore since all of my friends have moved on, but the Poets Society is still active, so what the hell. I don't have a locked-down title for this yet, the subject line is a working title though the work itself is complete. I may or may not change it, depending on how I feel about it later and any feedback I may get. Which is hopefully something! The rhyme scheme is a little funky on this one...it's so paper-thin that this is practically free-verse. Because of the nature of the subject (heroin addiction), I went with a sort of disheveled and uneven structure with just a hint of rhyme to match the state of the individual.