Petty and ephemeral is the addict lost in inner space and devoid of rationality. A cognitive aberration with listless core; A captive to lifeless substance.
A begging petitioner of undeserved pity; wholly blameful for a schism with all who matter.
A renegade from normality; woefully Ignominious - a trite revulsion.
A perpetual thief to even kin is this slug of slight substance.
A ruinous parasite to all, including self.
Such is the essence, the very soul of the addict lest he rejuvenate and change.
Author Biographical Sketch: Ed Coet is a retired US Army officer, a professional educator, and a widely published freelance writer and poet. Ed has had numerous articles published on a variety of topics. Ed's short stories, David's Angel, Big Bertha, and Simon and Papa John were published in the popular ezine Bewildering Stories. They also appear in the Author's Den along with several of Ed's other articles and poems. Ed Coet's poems have been published in or accepted for publication in Purple Dream Ezine, Solder Works magazine, Children, Churches & Daddies Magazine, Scars publication, Steller Showcase Journal, Both Sides Now Journal, Because We Write Magazine, Cynic Magazine, Fullosia Press, Author's Den Ezine, and Muscadine Lines, A Southern Journal.
Treating Yourself Poetry Pages
Though it wore no cloak nor carried a scythe
Me and Jim both...we knew it was him.
To see it in person...an ominous fright.
Its eyes close together; a predator like no other we were locked in his sight.
Us two; his quarry, awaiting his burst.
Terror stricken...my heart quickened
My feet were like lead. Jim started to gun it
He thought he could outrun it; but the beast won instead.
Grim was on his neck quick...Jim's blood running thick.
My stomach turning; I thought I would be sick.
I was hearing; flesh tearing...I heard his bones break
I wasn't sure, how much more I could take.
The beast gobbled and slurped...made a sickening burp
Grim ate him whole; ate Jim down to his sneakers.
I watched Jim lose his soul...lose his soul to the Reaper.
By Kenneth Brown
One night in Iraq a soldier looked to the sky.
He posed a question to God as to why.
"Why all the fighting; I don't understand"
Was the question he asked, as he stood in the sand
He searched the heavens high above
Thinking "If we truly are one world, then where is the love?"
And that's when he saw it; shining so bright
His question answered...a tear fell from his eye
The kids always known it; now he knew it too
The Little Dipper flies over, the Middle East too.
By Kenneth Brown
Bio: Active Duty soldier currently serving in Iraq
City: Byron GA
Published: Yes -
Soldier Tears www.lostbeatpoetry.blogspot.com
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