May 10, 2014


by Timothy J. Muise (author's profile)



White Powder dreams,
first seem real.
The world for taking,
what a way to feel.

The need grows stronger
dreams start to cloud.
Increase the dosage,
never too proud.

Can't find the slumber,
only the pain.
This proves truly,
love in "vein".

Dreams turn dark,
nightmares unfold.
Soaked in sweat,
wish I was told.

Devil grabs my heart,
squeezes so tight.
His grip makes me feel,
it will never be right.

The only cure rests in the light,
shown by the One who shines so bright.
The grip is broken and I am free
to dream and to love abundantly.


They beat him to death
in the belly of the jail.
They called it suicide
by one so frail.

They laughed and mocked
choking off his breath.
Their badge and gun
harbingers of death.

Poems by
Timothy J. Musie


Replies (2) Replies feed

zmw Posted 5 years, 10 months ago. ✓ Mailed 5 years, 9 months ago   Favorite
Thanks for writing! I finished the transcription for your post. The second poem, Suicide, packs a lot into so few words and I'm glad of the hope at the end of the first one.

Timothy J. Muise Posted 5 years, 9 months ago.   Favorite
(scanned reply – view as blog post)

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