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Live With Me, Die With Me

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Dopamine dreams

White lightening screams

Uppers, downers, wired on H

Goofballs, grass, lost in space

Flashback on flake


Chasing the dragon, cartwheels, charged

Cactus, candy, live life large

Crack, coke, booth, blow

Destroy your mind with lemonade snow

Locker room, LSD

Big chief, PCP


Peanuts, pinks an addicted slave

Are you yet riding the wave?

See the script writer

A supplier to endorse

Speedball, speed freak

Ride the horse


Tolley, snappers, shotgun smoke

Do you dare take another toke?

See you in the shooting gallery

Free your mind, set it free

Visit the head shop, do some hearts

Take you to heaven, then depart


Smashed, wasted, a zonked zombie

All these chemicals set you free

Hit the score, feel the high

One more hit and you will fly

Live your life as part of the scene

Die in pain, you will never be clean

Edited by zephyr

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I take it that not many on here are fluent with street drug names.


Either that or you think it's xxxxx.

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For some reason I hadn't read it before now - it's good Zephyr :-)

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Just cos people don't reply doesn't mean they don't like stuff. I read most of the stuff on this forum, just don't post on it.

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Yes indeed, a very good poem. I didn't realise there was so much to this drug thing.


They certainly mess up people's lives, of which of course we only get one. If a messed up drug person can't see that, then there is very little that can be done for them is there. That's the value they put on their very own lives. Cheap.


It's the tobacco addicts that get me. So they're addicted. But why can't they just keep their addiction to themselves instead of trying to sanitise it by puffing the stuff openly down the street and other public places.


Nasty stuff that smoke, a class 1 carcenogen that's not really regulated. Strange isn't it?


Sorry Zephyr, I've gone off on one and hi-jacked your thread here a little. A fair bit of work gone in their mate. Nice one.


Who was that Manx.net bloke who wrote about his mate who died in a shooting incident. He had a name with a hyphen in it? f- something or other?


Your poem reminded me of his rather shocking account in the Writers forum there. Wasn't it about his pal who had a bicycle and made friends with a crow or something. It was powerful stuff.

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