Tuesday, August 09, 2016

  I wrote the following poem, not to suggest that there is no remedy in the mighty power of the Holy Spirit, but to illustrate the descent into addiction.


I peaked into the gates of hell past a silky net
Where, by charms with a suicidal smile, I was met.
The sun began to set, or was it eclipsed,
By a hit, a smooth substance over my lips
From a cordial that caused my senses to dull
Flowing from a cup made of a bleached human skull.
Hysterical laughter, friendship; flowed free
Soon the frenzy wouldn't let hold of me.
Down winding corridors I had never been
To a place that the old leather bound called sin.
Potions, smoke, spirits I swore I'd never drink,
Deeds and thoughts I thought I'd never think.

But the party had just began, guitar music blaring,
Then all my friends changed to strangers staring,
As I crossed lines I swore I'd never cross,
Promises of gain, soon turned to loss.
Worst enemies: closest friends, carried off my wealth,
Mirror revealing, the phantoms stealing, even my heath!   
The stairs led up but never ended,
And with each step I took, I descended.
So I ran to the gates, though the way was blocked,

But I pushed through to find, the gate was locked.

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