Random Poetry

I went through an old book of random poetry I wrote years ago and decided to post one of them here. It’s not really based on anything and it’s sad but I still think it’s a nice little vignette. I hope you like it. It’s called:

Visiting Day

Sundays we see Pammy,

We take the commuter train,

The boys and I bring her flowers,

Daisies, always the same.

In their innocence they don’t realize

That her mind has slowly left,

To them she’s still their Mommy,

The visits leave me bereft.

This week she’s made them sun catchers,

Colored strong and bright,

They hold them in their little hands,

Up to the institutional light.

***

Last week it was bird house,

Before that origami,

Every week they proudly leave

With presents from their Mommy.

***

And every week I’m sadder,

As her mind slips further on,

I wonder if the boys can tell

How close she is to gone?

***

We go home on Sunday nights,

We take the commuter train,

The three of us missing Pammy,

Always just the same.

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Drug Poetry

I have a collection of old poetry in a journal that will likely never see the light of day unless I post it somewhere online. This one holds a special place in my heart for a very old and dear friend, who, sadly,  is mostly lost to drugs now.  If even one person reads this and is touched, or reaches out to someone who needs help, then I’ve done my part.

All Is Well

by Tracy L. Carbone

Hey there, old friend,

Look at this End

You’ve come to.

“I’m clean,” you say,

Clean as Methadone screams

Through you,

Screams,

Till you wish you were dead.

Mumbling as you walk,

We all hear you talk,

Like a schizophrenic homeless man,

Jesus, how did this happen?

Long, dirty hair and soiled clothes,

Long since Coke went up that nose,

Or Crack inside your veins,

Or Heroin or Pot,

But too late now,

Look what you’ve got,

Swiss Cheese Mind.

Utter joy in our one room place,

Wrinkles on your face,

Free Methadone for all!

Abundant opiates!

Stand in Line!

Be on Time!

Or get so sick

You’re back on the street

Begging for money to get your fix,

Got to get it quick,

Quick, quick,

Don’t want to get sick.

Now you’re done.

Another day at the clinic and all is well,

Death knell…

But you’re legally clean

As Methadone screams

Through you

And you grow one day older.

All is well.