Poem’s Past

I found some poetry I had written several months back. I wrote poetry for about two years in my late teens but quit for reason even I do not know. I have only found a dozen or so of the what seemed like hundreds I had written. I will post all I have over the next several months as an exercise in futility. My hope is it will inspire me to write more poems but who knows if it will.

This one I wrote poem back in the day(this is what one says when it is at least two decades past) that looks  into the behavior that has not changed for millennium.That is the cycle of addiction and the violence that accompanies it.

          The Sleep

The city is massive and wide

But there is no place to hide

From desperadoes in the night

Welding guns, sticks and knives


As their drug craved body’s cry for one more shot

Everything is soon lost

From their sanity to their pride

And any decency left inside


To hit the streets to find new prey

For to feed their craving they must pay

And soon some figure lies on the ground

His precious life’s blood flowing all around


And all his money and possession stripped from his being

For something that does not make sense and has no meaning

So the desperado can buy the drugs to soothe their pain

And wash over them like a cleansing rain


And so it comes to past that pain persist and does not quit

Till they fall into a dark and cold pit

To fall asleep and to never awake again

The desperadoes come to their end


To find peace at last.


Author: John Burgess

Written 12/1981

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