Image from BBC News
a street drug
no
a medication
i do this because i have to
i was forced into this
by
my parents
my wife
my children
they all demanded
they all required
things of me
everyone expects that i
and i alone
serve their needs
so each day i
place the hose
begin the injections
like piercing society’s skin
and the energy flows
as quickly as blood
pumps in the body
it is not my fault
i am not to blame
please believe me
i am not to blame
i wash my hands of this
the oil on your shores
is not due
to my addiction
it was
their
fault
Read Between the Minds 
Wow !! I mean, WOW!
If there’s one thing activity we all share, it’s playing the blame game… And you, via the poem, have exemplified it out wonderfully, as ever!
Thank you for making us realize of some of those things which we otherwise simply take for granted…
Have a good one!
You’ve written horror here. A grim subject dealt with very well.
Another great poem…the demands of life is blamed for the addiction…overlooking personal accountability. I also liked the BP reference.
How very well said!!!
WOW! beautiful stuff! iv written a blog too, the blog address is the website iv entered, id love it if you could check it out and tell me what you think?!
❤
Very good. I wrote something similar here:
http://lestismitethee.wordpress.com/2010/04/17/writing-mind-scribe-volume-3/
(count five “+” down)
But yours is so much better. Great job!
So very real, I used to work in such an environment, helping addicts to stop and this poem will speak for a lot of them, it is self medication for relief of the pressure of life.
“…like piercing society’s skin…” the revenge they feel from taking themselves away from it all, ‘no-one can rely on us now.’
Brilliant.
We tie off and search/
For the perfect vein to ease:/
Fear complications/
#haiku
Grim but so true
a very different but not untrue take !!
thanks for your very friendly comments!
there’s such a depth in your poems that i’m sometimes even a bit intimidated. this one too!
makes my poetry sound a bit too breezy.
anyway: compliments!
There is one spot on my body NOBODY is allowed to touch; my forearm. I won’t sleep tonight because of that image! :-))))
Some of my students are drug addicts. I won’t get into the topic. Unless you grant me unlimited comment space.
Nice transition from addiction to pumping drugs….
We have an “oil addiction” 🙂
I was thinking the other day about this oil disaster, because we need oil so badly we fight for it and kill people for it, and now we are being punished by looking at this precious black gold being wasted and destroying nature… Ironic!
that’s one way to look at drug addiction as being induced by social problems.well done Martin .
one way to look at drug addiction is to ascribe it to social problems , well done Martin , another of your great poems.
Wow…how true words you’ve spoken…the blame game! And leaves you with much food for thought.
tight social commentary…nicely written. there is blood on my hands…
You have caught the flavor of soooo many who are caught up in this slavery! Well written.
amazing poetry… Witnessing personal hell an addict goes through, rips apart a family and may destroy more than the user for years to come… yet considering truly fucked up circumstances gone through and the horror some relive…. damn, “like piercing society’s skin” The image is haunting too.
nice twist from dependence and non-responsibility of taking drugs to our use of oil on the street… well done. Of course all addicts want to blame their sad state on someone else… The photo is gruesome…but eye-opening. Heartspell
Incredible… yet not. You continue to astound me with the power of your words and how bloody good you are.
Once again, Well Done.
I bow to the master.
Yes you have caught the levels of addiction. Do people realize that so many are addicted yet we look in horror at the “junkie.”
Nice the way you hit the societal blame shift.
Moon Smiles for your day C
Blame is a funny thing. It’s the one thing everyone is good at passing around. Great poem.
Great stuff as ever. As a cyclist, it’s easy to think I can absolve myself from this particular blame, but in truth, my rides are purely for pleasure and don’t replace a single car journey. Motes and beams. Keep us thinking, my friend.
Incredible poem, dealing with an important and terrible part of the world. A potent commentary on society–and the picture gives me the shudders, to boot.
that picture and these words have left me baffled.
I have had a sheltered life.
this is incredible…
i just stumbled across this
this poem is absolutely amazing.
nothing less.