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Addiction Poems by Recovering Addicts – AddictionZ

Addiction Poems by Recovering Addicts

Writing addiction poems is one way that recovering addicts can allow their creativity toi benefit their recovery in a very positive way.

Addiction Poems:

Monster in My Head

There is a monster who lives in my head, He talks to me softly he wants me dead.
He tells me this time I’ll stay in control. He tells me not to let anyone know.
He convinces me that no one cares, He whispers the pain is to much to bear.
He tells me how wonderful I will feel. He tells me he loves me and it is real.
He tells me not to call anyone, My heart starts racing, he tells me it will be fun.
He tells me not to think of past times, He promises I can do it just once this time
Who is this monster who calls me by name, RELAPSE, he waiting to start the game.

Written while in detox 02-22-2002 by an addict named Darla


 

I Can Breathe Again

By Elizabeth – 2010

I can breathe again
Whispers in the wind
Telling me
That our lives can
Be lived
Sober and Free
From all the pain and anguish
That consumed
Our lives
I can breathe again
No more pain
Inflicted on you
From me….
Having to break those vows
Of life
For What? Why?
Through those steps
In that Big ass book
You and I will learn
To Breathe Again


 

The Addict

by Dean  c.1999

The addict is a special case,
of feelings gone awry.
Alone, yes, in a crowded place,
perhaps a real nice guy.
Or gal, it’s not to say the least,
both fret in stereo,
Beauty or the savage beast,
they never seem to know.

The world is wrong, a bitter place,
but deep, way down inside,
He’d rather die, than lose face,
he’d rather run and hide,
Distractions are the easy route,
with drugs and sex and food,
Adrenalin, beyond a doubt,
crime and dice will do.

The child inside is safe, endured,
he’ll grieve another day,
No more hurt, he’ll make sure,
someone else will pay,
Someday, maybe things will change,
he won’t have to live this lie,
He’ll laugh and dance and shout and sing,
All the music trapped inside.


 

Just Beneath the Surface

by Dean B c.2000

Just beneath the surface of her pleasant, winning smile,
Pompous and indignant, it’s been there quit a while,
Comforting, reliable, it keeps her in the dark,
At least a million reasons and subtle quirks remark:

“Sure it makes a lot of sense!” she’ll deal with it tomorrow,
Sadly now the curtain falls, why does this seem to sorrow,
A chapter ends, a twist of fate, what could be the purpose,
For most of us the painful truth, lies just beneath the surface.


Recovery Tastes Sweeter

by Dean B c.1998

Give up the Sugar, who me.
Well, a sweet tooth
Runs down… my family tree!

But, one bite of sugar means ten!
So giving it up sure makes sense!

It all boils down to how much I want it,
My recovery tastes better,
I better not taunt it!


Layer Cake

by Joanie C

Chocolate grudges are iced with past pain and
forbidden desires.
Every piece is always the last piece.

Tears keep the cake moist.
It’s forbiddeness makes it so much more
desirable,
Heartburn of guilt comes to visit soon after.

They’re all so angry with me because of my
gourmet choices,
I’m sorry for that because I wasn’t out to
punish them,
I wanted to punish some part of me.

Unfortunately my body is an innocent victim
of a bad, bloody traffic accident,
Wrong place at the wrong time.

Before conflict I always prepare for extra girt,
My vulnerability will have a chance of being
protected.
However, I notice in photographs that my eyes
always give me away.

My fate lately seems to depend on so many ifs,
I put too much power in the “ifs”.

There’s a hole inside that needs a tending to,
I’m always hungering for some thing, some one.

I mended many wounded birds,
But at such a cost.
I’ve neglected my own wounds,
They mostly bleed inside.
Safer that way.

Don’t offer me pity, offer me love.
Don’t offer me sadness, offer me hope.
Don’t judge me harshly, be my friend.
You would be great competition for that Layer Cake.


Little Brother

by Vanessa v c.2001

Little brother, dear
you never had a chance
so young and innocent you were,
so cute and full of joy!
We played and laughed
and dreamed about life,
about accomplishments
and things we would master.

Little brother, dear
you never had a chance.
You looked for a father,
strong and loving.
For a mother letting you grow up,
you had visions of a full life,
of learning of being someone,
the world could admire.

Little brother, dear,
you never had a chance,
A father who was never there,
A mother who wouldn’t let you go,
loving you to death, and didn’t know.
You were imprisoned with attachments,
placed on you and suffocating,
no breath, no hope, no self.

Little brother, dear,
you never had a chance,
looking for friends in wrong places,
desperate for acceptance and love,
licking your wounds with alcohol and drugs,
escaping reality, never knowing what it was,
yet yearning to fill the hole in your heart,
desperate, isolated – with what!

Little brother dear,
you never had a chance,
I remember in my heart, your love
your honesty to me and your cry for help,
yet I did not know, had my own stuff,
we both were outcasts in the family,
tortured and despised children,
from fathers nobody accepted.

Little brother dear,
you never had a chance,
I felt your dying from far away,
helpless, reaching out too late.
It was too hard for you to live,
You died alone, with no-one holding you,
The loneliness you must have felt
I just hope, your Angel carried you!

Little brother dear,
You never had a chance,
I make sure they never forget
Even though they try so hard
Your name is mentioned,
your story told again and again,
Your love always remembered,
a jewel in my life, the greatest gift from you!

Little brother dear,
there is a chance again,
when I come up to heaven,
and hold you in my arms,
we both know more and understand,
and laugh and cry again, together,
and share and understand
and let go of all the pain, together.


Awakening – Sacred Place in my Heart

by Vanessa v c.2001
The world is alive,
with magic and with wonder,
I never saw these colours
so deep, so vibrant,
dancing in my heart.

Thank you my friend,
for waking me gently,
for touching my shoulder
for opening my eyes,
for feeling it all again.

You know my needs,
how to unlock my heart,
gently and with care,
guiding me along the path,
to freedom, love and trust.

You had the key I lost,
a gentle soul you are,
with wisdom grown of pain,
leading me from darkness
into light and joy.

So much has changed since then,
within me and around,
my feelings dancing,
my eyes and spirit laughing,
love overwhelming me to tears.

It is a quiet love,
deep and trusting,
of not believing yet,
how wonderful it is,
how deeply satisfying.

Yet there is strength,
growing, nurturing, expanding
the world within is alone no more
but connected with the universe,
gaining strength and trust.

You are the messenger,
an angel long anticipated,
to unfold the truth so gently,
to touch my heart
to bring my soul alive.

This love will never die,
never end, whatever is
it is devotion for such gifts,
Cause I would never know,
if you hadn’t found the key.


Forgotten Dreams

by Vanessa v c.2001

It’s a good age, it always was
to mature, to ripen mind and body,
to reminisce of times long gone,
to realize the repetition
of dreams fulfilled and crushed.

Wallowing in early childhood
when the world was still a dream
when dreaming was allowed,
when I still saw goblins and fairies,
being alive in and around me.

Was it real or was it just a dream?
I wonder…. often…. where the secret lies.
I just didn’t see them anymore…later
they tried to talk with silent voices
I didn’t hear them anymore.

Intellect, reality was the new game
There were new rules now……
about real things….. life….. progress.
About education, getting ahead,
marrying well, having the right friends.

I still saw goblins and fairies here and there
my childhood friends, waving good-bye
‘You just have to call, we’ll come back’
Tears of lost dreams welling up
dying inside without a choice.

I went on to the fight of life
forgetting love and simple things
losing myself in success and fortune
Hunting and hunting without end
Wanting things, people to be mine.

I never succeeded, never gave up,
wanted this and that and more,
more toys, more love, more admiration,
more success, more money, more gold,
more people around, friends admiring me.

There was no new path, no new game to play,
no new price to win, no new love to conquer.
No new friends to have, no more parties to go to,
no more clothes to wear, no more travels to do.
The journey had ended in pain and emptiness.

Left behind was precious Me,
An empty shell, lost and alone,
there were no voices teaching me,
there was darkness, frigid cold inside,
fear taking my life, my spirit away.

I remembered my old friends,
they came and told me stories
of love, compassion, gentleness,
of letting go and trusting, of giving
of learning to know who I am.

I had forgotten how it felt,
digging deep into my soul,
for the treasure I once possessed.
to go back and feel again,
cry tears and laugh and feel my pain.

Feeling me, embracing all of me,
Facing my emotions deep inside,
Feeling my longing, body and heart
To love again without possession,
To give freely of me without a reason.

The numbness left, the feelings came
Giving up and letting go of me,
Embracing the world in all its’ beauty,
Standing in awe and admiring all creatures
All human kind, having real friends again.

I laugh and cry and tell the truth,
Pride and reputation are no hurdle now,
I found my truth again, I am a child.
know the secret now of goblins and fairies,
of how the world works so easy by itself


 

 

The Dean of Addictionz

Working the Solution with Multiple and Addicts of all types

  • 36 Years Personal Recovery Experience in several Self Help Programs
  • Addiction Recovery Outreach Trustee, NW Region Webmaster, Newsletter Editor and contributor for various Recovery Associations Publications
  • Published in several major recovery publications:  AA Grapevine, Al-Anon Forum, Overeaters Anonymous “Voices of Recovery” and “Lifeline”, Gamblers Anonymous “Bulletin” &”Toastmaster” Magazine 
  • This AddictionZ.com website is featured in Melody Beattie’s current “Codependent no More Workbook”
  • Over 45 years successful contracting business experience working with over 2000 employees and Penitentery halfway house temporary staff.
  • Sponsoring many recovering multiple addicts with long term good results
  • Recovery weekend workshop leader in Western Canada & US Pacific NW
  • Author “You Can’t Unscrew Somebody Workbook” for relationship makeovers
  • Author “Sex Inventory Workbook” for sex issues
  • Author “Drunk Driving Workbook”  for safety
  • Author “Breaking The Cycle of Gambling Addiction” arrest the money drain!
  • Author “Breaking the Cycle of Compulsive Overeating” get healthy!

Here is a thought!
Why don’t you book your sober recovery style vacation with us in beautiful downtown Victoria BC Canada at our Gingerbread Cottage Bed and Breakfast. Over the years we have had lots of therapists, recovering addicts and health professionals stay at our idyllic B&B steps from the Salish Sea. Oh and we have gourmet breakfasts too! Vanessa makes a fantastic Austrian Apple Strudel! see more on our B&B website…

Please leave your comments below, and I will be sure to answer them. If you want one of the publications but truly cannot afford it leave a comment with your email address and I’ll send you a free one…

This website is about recovery – not making money – but it wouldn’t hurt to pay a few web hosting charges if you  decided to visit one of the sponsors ads… I have kept outside ads to a minimum so it’s not so frustrating to read. Hate those pages with an ad between every paragraph.

Have a great One Day at a Time! Dean 🙂

4 thoughts on “Addiction Poems by Recovering Addicts – AddictionZ”

  1. Dear Sir Madam,

    hereby I am sending you a poem which hopefully mirrors addiction, weakness and which goes along with it.

    I can’t expecting hearing back from you.

    Sincerely
    Mikey

    During a Walk Through the Woods

    final option: exit in sight
    shall i walk this way?

    beza, eden und nicholas being in the room
    my rootwords for what i consider family

    final option: exit in sight
    shall i walk this way?

    while you are remaining in this room of memory
    while nicholas is crying
    while eden is sobbing
    beza – dem kid’s mother – being desperate

    you know what beza?
    we are akin to each other
    like characters in sentences:
    dots

    unalike as the undertones of
    exclamation marks and exclamation points

    nicholas is crying
    eden is sobbing
    cause you guys are in another city
    far away

    you are writing:
    “i have to protect the children”

    tell me:

    from whom?
    from what?

    calculate: hom many fathers does a child have?
    spell out how
    man and woman
    wife and husband

    become able to defend and favor their
    shadows lips lights and wishes
    simultaneously

    is there any meaning?
    am i flaying my skin daily?

    i am not a snake
    i am darkness and light
    like the rest of us
    bizarre blillions made of
    languages moral values religions

    do i have to skin myself daily?
    does this have to mean even a bit?

    i don’t know bambino
    but i am sensing that we are ONE:

    blood boomerangs bound
    boomerangs bound blood
    blood bound and boomerangs

    the devil cracked our bound
    he was grining and said:
    “my lost son i am
    looking at you: a man full of doubts

    ain’t no thang though
    i am confirming on oath:
    i will be getting rid of your doubts
    colorfully
    they will be gone

    we just need a gimmick

    hereby i am passing on the golden goblet to you
    there is some stuff in it
    to be found in lies and magic”

    young jeezy (me ok)

    harold hunter

    falco (rock me amadeus)

    ali

    dmx

    fassbender

    robin williams

    benjamin von stuckrad-barre

    whitney houston

    angelina jolie

    sigmund freud (psycho analysis)

    they were all drinking from the goblet
    the list of my friends is long and enduring

    some of ’em died
    some continued to live
    some decayed with numb limbs
    in musty chambers
    closed curtains

    glossing ghosts above the head of
    west indian archie
    once a powerful gangster now a broke burnout

    but this is one of many countless chapters
    my son
    ain’t we good together boy?

    i am confirming on oath:
    i will be getting rid of your doubts
    colorfully
    they will be gone

    successful people drink from the goblet;
    they are in charge of their lifes
    my son

    the golden goblet is like heat in the coldness
    the golden goblet is like cooling down in the heat of the desert

    water
    purity
    nature and leaves
    chemistry and magic

    my friends are global
    my friends are cosmopolits
    by the time some lose the “r” on their path:
    they become fiends

    but this is one of many countless chapters
    my son
    ain’t we good together boy?

    all cultures
    all religions
    all languages

    all my friends love the golden goblet
    more than themselves
    cause the golden goblet procures them

    dear deception

    all my friends don’t love themselves anymore
    but the golden goblet
    all my friends don’t love themselves anymore
    but the golden goblet

    devils hang out beyond rehab centres
    they listen carefully to the
    conversations of addicts
    they want to figure out their weaknesses
    analyze and exploit them

    when the devil was flattering with his arms
    high up in the skies
    cheating god’s position
    between trees and lavish castles in bavaria

    while the devil was listen carefully to the addicts he was holding
    the golden goblet under the moon’s reflections thereupon

    the golden goblet was ablazed with light
    like a constellation superior to the earthly ghosts of weakness
    the golden goblet sparkled

    the addicts perceived it
    as children perceive candy
    as teenagers perceive the defeatable supremacy of grown-ups

    they perceived the sparkling
    as if you were listening to your favourite song

    addiction is emotional
    addiction is the blind quest for meaning

    the golden goblet twinkled over the roofs of the bavarian rehab centre
    and one of the addicts a young woman
    was looking up into the blackness of heaven
    frankly speaking it was sparkling everywhere

    the woman suddenly thought:
    i have twins
    i worked as a prostitute
    i am not permitted to see my kids

    in deliverances she spoke:
    “i was a whore”
    “i have twins”
    “i order precious clothes every day for them”

    there was a sheen coming from the devil’s
    pupil
    in the moment she was expressing her fate

    we are sure: talking ’bout such a fate must hurt
    so she continued talking to free herself

    she said: “nut doc give me prescription… first i
    don’t wanna take dem shits though
    they called (…)
    and dem (…)

    “these pills” she proceeded with a shivering voice
    “these pills … be like gold”

    her mouth opened widely as if she was hungry
    golden sheen

    her fate like wind
    behind dem skies

    a darkred eyebrow
    purple nipple
    bald head full of

    holes scars blood

    day one highlights a starting point
    since then devil has been breeding horror:

    not to mention the death of gökhan tatchouop
    not to mention the death of alexander kania
    not to mention when a mother passed away: t.z.

    since the first day devil has been embroiled in torment
    born from the fight of brightness and night
    the creature awoke

    only in darkness
    hidden by the star’s twilight
    beyond distances
    we recognize him

    when he is far away from us
    like glorified past

    on earth
    he embodies the shape of human beings

    to be between us
    to expose our weaknesses
    that’s his guzzling his brew and his – blessing

    our failing strenghtens him
    he be muscle
    our illness strenghtens him
    he be tizight

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