http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/R._N._Taber
Today’s first poem last appeared on the blog in 2008. Now, I have written several anti-drugs poems and reader ‘Marcel P’ has asked me to repeat this one ‘as a warning to a close friend.’ I only hope he makes sure his friend reads it. I have added the second poem for good measure.
Drug abuse destroys lives so why are there relatively few rehab centres available, even in big cities like London? Why isn’t there more high profile anti-drugs promotion?
Drug addicts need help, not condemnation. Apart from young people who are targeted by unscrupulous drug pushers, there are others (all ages) who turn to drugs because they cannot cope with the pressures of everyday life. It isn’t long before they find themselves trapped in a vicious spiral of desperation and despair.
Even so-called ‘soft’ drugs such as cannabis are not without their dangers. Smoking weed can help a person relax, but if he or she is smoking because they cannot cope with certain pressures, the chances are it won’t be long before they will try something stronger, always convinced they are not vulnerable to addiction...
Everyone’s body chemistry is different; take ‘designer’ drugs like ecstasy; for example one person’s high, another’s death. Yes, the latter is rare, but is it worth taking the chance? Besides, many of these drugs have not been around long enough for full research to be done into their long-term effects on mind and body.
What’s that you say> It’s my life and I’ll live it how I want? Fair enough, except drug abuse doesn’t only ruin an addict’s life but the lives of his or her family and friends too.
So be careful out there, yeah? If you can’t cope, for whatever reason, ask for help, don’t take the drugs route.
There is no shame in asking for help, only common sense.
JOHN BULL’S MIDNIGHT GARDEN
Blades of grass
dipped in moonlight,
Old Man winking
mischievously
at shadows chasing
their own tails
across number
ten’s garden;
Lights in a window
peeking between
chinks in closed
curtains, envious
of a night left in
peace to play without
fear of
interruption
Beyond the wall, a
screech of tyres
leaves someone’s
child dead,
wearing pretty
ribbons of moonlight
dipped in a
druggie’s blood;
Old Man pointing
the finger of blame
at shadows chasing
their own tails
from the garden of
number ten,
preferring to be
left in peace without
fear of
interruption
Behind the Rehab
Centre, closed down
because of local
residents objecting,
a desperate
company sniffing, injecting,
clutching at
straws in a sea of moonlight
flooding the
garden of number ten;
Old Man takes to
hiding behind clouds
rather than watch
shadows made to chase
their own tails
where no peace without
fear of
interruption
[From: Accomplices To
Illusion by R. N. Taber,
Assembly Books 2007]
CHARYBDIS MON AMOUR
Whirlpool
Anguish, mirrored
in eddies of shrapnel light;
Pain, caught fast
in a grip of mute supplication;
Loneliness, laid bare
in a mad rape
Round, round, this raving soul
chases its own dear folly
Life, long since perjured
for roller coaster thrills;
Love, all scratched
and bleeding after spills,
spread-eagled
on a cross
Lord, have mercy
on us
No screaming brakes
at Salvation’s door
left ajar;
Nor one kind echo
in the blind
drop
[From: Love and Human Remains by R. N.
Taber, Assembly Books, 2001]