Pharmaceuticals

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Pharmaceuticals

A pill a pill to kill my ills
a magic potion just for me
once a day to make me chill
I take my tablets happily.

A pill a pill to kill my ills
a capsule for my aches and pains
my doctor has a special pill
for every sickness that I feign.

A pill a pill to kill my ills
a gel cap for my troubled brain
pills that rob me of my will
but next week I will still complain.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2014

Our society has a pill for almost everything we can think of and a horrible problem with addiction. Sometimes the drug is worse than the illness and fills an emotional need rather than physical. Addiction hurts not only you but the people around you and impacts your life in a negative way. Just because they are easy to get doesn’t mean it’s ok to take them. Be strong!

Flying

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Flying

Flying
where am I?

I am traveling by your side
the sun acting as our guide
my emotions burning bright
like a scarlet sunset might
I felt lost behind this face
’till we leaped into this space
the clouds parted ways for me
now my vision’s clear, I see.

Flying
where am I?

Together
now we fly.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2017

Written with Saturdays Image Write.

The Poet’s Dilemma

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The Poet’s Dilemma

Days and nights spent crafting words to perfection
fueled by cheap whiskey and non-filtered cigarettes
cut off from the very world he writes about.

His prose clever and filled with profound images
the darling of society
everyone wanted his company
designers gave him the finest garments
he lived in a stone mansion with a beautiful wife;
but on the inside…

The poet’s soul is tinted with the blackest black
he has no words left
his muse left him with no note
empty with no more to give.

He sits in his library at his big ornate desk
the glow of the candles outlining his frown
considering the writer’s block that has silenced him
feeling lost.

He inhales, his cigarette glowing red in the dark
he opens his desk drawer to get more whiskey
his handgun next to the bottle.

He pours himself a drink
as he has done so many times before
it burns as it travels down his throat
the loss of words was killing him
destroying him!

He put the handgun to his head and pulled the trigger.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2014

Shared with Poets United.

Safe Within

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Safe Within

I see no evil.

I keep my eyes cast down
invisible blinders moderating
every new madness broadcast,
“Watch this, you must see this, don’t miss this!”
Better not to look at all.

I speak no evil.

I have nothing more to say
staying quiet is best
one word always leads to more,
“I want, I need, I think.”
Better not to talk at all.

I hear no evil.

Mental earplugs firmly in place
blind, mute and now deaf
the only way is staying safe within.
“Why don’t you wake up and join the human race?”
I can’t hear you!

© Rebecca Sanchez 2017

Sometimes inner voices are pushed away with the best of intentions.

Written with Imaginary Garden Of Real Toads and Poets United.

The Woebegone Man

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The Woebegone Man

The woebegone man
just sits and sighs
wringing his hands
avoiding all eyes.

Too numb to feel
escaping instead
too hard to deal
rocks in his head.

A man who says yes
although he means no
yet no one would guess
’cause he doesn’t know.

Tragically depicted
he’s pale as the dead
chronically addicted
chain smoking dread.

He will never know why
depressed with no plans
no pretty blue skies
for the woebegone man.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2016

Written for dVerse~Poets Pub.

Life Is No Picnic

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Life Is No Picnic

Some people say
life is no picnic
I disagree.

You spread your blanket in a nice place
lay out the small feast
hope for good weather
look forward to the food.

A layer between you and the ground
the blanket is security
protection and comfort
hopefully, it doesn’t have any holes.

The weather can change
in just minutes
thunder clouds rolling in
complications arise
you are powerless to change it
can’t fight the elements.

Food is emotional and sexy
pleasurable and addictive
it feeds your most inner being
all before it enters your belly
sometimes it doesn’t agree with you.

Then the bugs come
they sting and bite
at the very least they attack your food
they crawl all over your picnic
quite uncomfortable
don’t bug me
isn’t enough.

Some people say
life is no picnic
I disagree.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2016

Written with Poets United and sharing with Imaginary Garden Of Real Toads.

Me On Muse

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Me On Muse

I can’t escape my muse
it thrives on inspiration
it gobbles forms for fun
it’s in my perspiration.

If I don’t write with peers
I settle for the latter
my muse fulfills the need
it’s all that really matters.

And when there is no reason
I can always find the rhyme
shore it up and make it clever
shine it up and call it mine.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2016

Written and shared with Imaginary Garden Of Real Toads.