Four walls, padded confinement
loud music bouncing hard
Fueled by teenage angst
along candle lit passages
Shadows occupy every corner
residual beasts traveling
Feasting on innocent vibes
until they consume the room
Tending to my spiritual garden
watering this depressing weed
The fruits are rotting fast
rooted in mindless envy
Unable to pray in silence
my pillow hard as stone
Sleep not easily obtained
wallowing in nightmares alone
Family and friends are around
but I chose this conflict
Stripped naked passive soul
had to rely on natural instinct
My pen became a sword
poetry served as pseudo armor
Without any kind of belief
you’re just dead inside
Somehow stars can align
this special magical warmth
Evil tumor, syncopated rhythm
where hope reaches crescendo
Finally found my way home
never resist a helping hand
Other’s see your potential
remain open, resist being blind
Copyright @ Damian DeadLove 2022
Right on, man. Such an inspiring write! Addiction is very much like a ghost, haunting each moment of our lives. I am so happy you were able to push through and maintain. If you ever had any doubt, this poem is proof, that you absolutely do not need alcohol to conjure beauty and meaning on the page.
The last two lines in the third octet scream truth in my mind. Very, very wise.
Clay
Thanks so much for reading and your kind words, Clay. So glad you connected with the write my friend. I’ve found out I never needed alcohol to write, it was the addiction that had planted that seed of doubt in my head. It is a ghost always lurking in the shadows, though I’ve always seen it as a personal demon waiting to pounce. Appreciate you.
Damian
Stay true to yourself and keep on pushing forward. Rock on dude!! Great piece of poetry
Thanks so much for reading and your kind words, Keith. So glad you connected with the write my friend. Always, brother.
Appreciate you.
Damian
I love the honesty in this. What a purge of the soul amigo!
This has so much in it. It had its own evolution.
Just terrific!
Thanks so much for reading and your kind words, Adel. So glad you connected with the write my friend. It means a lot to me. Appreciate you.
Damian
That’s poetry for ya folks .. Bloomin brill my friend .. Neville 😎👍
Thanks so much for reading and your kind words, Neville. So glad you connected with the write my friend. Appreciate you.
Damian
“My pen became a sword
poetry served as pseudo armor”
Amazing how many of us are among this army. Accepting help is so hard. Especially if you’ve rarely been offered a hand. And we’re all kinda programmed to ‘suck it up’…like being human is a weakness. Stripped raw & flushing the wounds here, brutal honesty at its finest, my friend
Thanks so much for reading and your kind words, Willow. So glad you connected with the write my friend. Love those lines as well. We are programmed that way, and it makes it difficult to rewire the mind. It’s still a work in progress, but it gets a little easier each passing day. Always enjoy your commentary my friend. Appreciate you.
Damian
This poem is raw, honest, and deeply moving. Knowing you wrote it just months into your sobriety makes it even more powerful –your pen becomes both sword and shield, guiding you from darkness to hope. A beautiful testament to resilience and the strength of new beginnings.
Thanks so much for reading and your kind words, Roma. So glad you connected with the write my friend. It was cold turkey, and past overdue. Although it was my fourth attempt at getting sober, the third time was not a charm. lol. Thank you for your continued support, and wonderful commentary. Appreciate you.
Damian