I will never forget this poem. I just learned the science and developement of a substance, the rise and fall of kingdoms, travel routes, public figure’s pressure and pain reaching for a quick promise…the history of a drug in poetry. The voice began innocently, soothing, promising, but then slowly spoke in lust, bravado, rage, destruction, and the way it ended in pure innocence…as nature’s simple flower. Almost saying, if humans didn’t misuse what was never meant to be plucked, death and destruction would not have had its day over the centuries.
This is really wonderful, and truly unexpected. I think it's unlike anything else I've seen on Substack. The arc is so graceful, and the development of the personality(ies) was elegant, too. My favorite is the ending. The full return to the beginning is kind of hard to do in a way that doesn't seem silly, and I liked how you did it here. Actually, I take back what I said; my favorite part might just be the conception; it's a weird idea, even for Substack, and you took it on with gusto.
On a related note, I think I am the only person in America on whom the DARE program worked. Are you too young to know what DARE was? I am genuinely terrified of drugs and the cop in my classroom was the reason.
Haha 100 years old. We had Officer King. I think it was King. I thought he was actually going to shoot me in the classroom if I even THOUGHT about being curious about drugs
I wondered where any of you were. I remember the amount of red plastic cups who died in chain link fences to declare the angry message of just say no to the audience of housewives and day cares that made up the back street of my school. I remember finding a discarded FBI jacket, how lucky, took it home and washed it, and immediately sewed the just say no patches on it. I also remember wearing that jacket stoned to my first rock and punk shows, with many more patches joining the first. It was such a fuck you said to the establishment, the same establishment that distributed crack into our already impoverished ghettos and communities of color they failed and still fail. The absurd drug sentences with little recourse or programs to assist those they themselves established. The same administration that was high on cocaine while three strikes was putting away an entire generation of young black people, mostly men, robbing the community of a labor force, role models, a paycheck in the house. An administration who made women suddenly the only strength a community already starving, sick, powerless the bearers of their society's downfall. The same administration that has used drugs as the guise to continue to enact legislation that is so damn skewed that it is laughable on its face.
Um, no, I didn't pay any attention and really wish where I had left that jacket 30 some years ago and hope that someone loved it's message as much as I did.
what to say? not a curt comment or a brief reply, no. this one...it begs for deeper consideration.
first, addiction. the power of the drug impacting humanity...both addicted to the connection. that's real. because, it seems, addiction is more powerful than just the user's need...there is always something more. heritage, biology, chemistry...all represented here by the little flower.
then, the history. the testimony to the permanence of this. the incessant drive to escape, to bypass the portions of our humanity that spell PAIN. universal. timeless.
and, power. perhaps the real addiction. that power will sacrifice almost anything in order for those who wield it to rise...above their own pain, an equally addictive and hollow high.
last, your art, my friend. this is crafted with brilliance, and a unique care that treats our serious predicament with just the right amount of whimsy to let us hear the horror.
for all of it... from the rooms built of my own recovery from substance use disorder...I thank you.
But it wouldn't let me. You robots and your rigid rules. Just think of restacking quotes as using a photocopier. It isn't that big a deal... or is it? It might be, I have no idea. I haven't meditated deeply on it... yet.
I will never forget this poem. I just learned the science and developement of a substance, the rise and fall of kingdoms, travel routes, public figure’s pressure and pain reaching for a quick promise…the history of a drug in poetry. The voice began innocently, soothing, promising, but then slowly spoke in lust, bravado, rage, destruction, and the way it ended in pure innocence…as nature’s simple flower. Almost saying, if humans didn’t misuse what was never meant to be plucked, death and destruction would not have had its day over the centuries.
Thank you so much for this comment, Celeste.
I appreciate you giving it such a close read.
I hope you'll visit me again.
This is really wonderful, and truly unexpected. I think it's unlike anything else I've seen on Substack. The arc is so graceful, and the development of the personality(ies) was elegant, too. My favorite is the ending. The full return to the beginning is kind of hard to do in a way that doesn't seem silly, and I liked how you did it here. Actually, I take back what I said; my favorite part might just be the conception; it's a weird idea, even for Substack, and you took it on with gusto.
On a related note, I think I am the only person in America on whom the DARE program worked. Are you too young to know what DARE was? I am genuinely terrified of drugs and the cop in my classroom was the reason.
This comment is really wonderful, and truly unexpected.
Thank you, my friend. And I'm glad you liked both the ending and the beginning.
I'll keep working on my middles.
Yes, I know DARE. I'm over 100 years old. I've witnessed a few DARES.
I assume you also know Officer Friendly?
Haha 100 years old. We had Officer King. I think it was King. I thought he was actually going to shoot me in the classroom if I even THOUGHT about being curious about drugs
They were already indoctrinating you to believe that the badge was on the level of royalty.
Damn this blasted system.
I wondered where any of you were. I remember the amount of red plastic cups who died in chain link fences to declare the angry message of just say no to the audience of housewives and day cares that made up the back street of my school. I remember finding a discarded FBI jacket, how lucky, took it home and washed it, and immediately sewed the just say no patches on it. I also remember wearing that jacket stoned to my first rock and punk shows, with many more patches joining the first. It was such a fuck you said to the establishment, the same establishment that distributed crack into our already impoverished ghettos and communities of color they failed and still fail. The absurd drug sentences with little recourse or programs to assist those they themselves established. The same administration that was high on cocaine while three strikes was putting away an entire generation of young black people, mostly men, robbing the community of a labor force, role models, a paycheck in the house. An administration who made women suddenly the only strength a community already starving, sick, powerless the bearers of their society's downfall. The same administration that has used drugs as the guise to continue to enact legislation that is so damn skewed that it is laughable on its face.
Um, no, I didn't pay any attention and really wish where I had left that jacket 30 some years ago and hope that someone loved it's message as much as I did.
✒️Writer to writer: you start with a harmless seedling and end with something too potent to be accidental and too engineered to be innocent.
Exactamundo.
Excellent
Thank you so much, my friend.
Very welcome:)
This is brilliant, the way you shifted the point of view was truly inspirational. I loved it!
I'm thrilled you enjoyed the ride.
I hope you'll visit me again.
I definitely will
what to say? not a curt comment or a brief reply, no. this one...it begs for deeper consideration.
first, addiction. the power of the drug impacting humanity...both addicted to the connection. that's real. because, it seems, addiction is more powerful than just the user's need...there is always something more. heritage, biology, chemistry...all represented here by the little flower.
then, the history. the testimony to the permanence of this. the incessant drive to escape, to bypass the portions of our humanity that spell PAIN. universal. timeless.
and, power. perhaps the real addiction. that power will sacrifice almost anything in order for those who wield it to rise...above their own pain, an equally addictive and hollow high.
last, your art, my friend. this is crafted with brilliance, and a unique care that treats our serious predicament with just the right amount of whimsy to let us hear the horror.
for all of it... from the rooms built of my own recovery from substance use disorder...I thank you.
Can't thank you enough for this response, Kim.
It makes the work worth doing!
🙏
I thought we might end with AI being our current drug/addiction of choice.
BTW I have a note in drafts about being compared to a drug (for the record, I pick cocaine if I must be classified in such a way.)
AI, machines, people ... all can soothe. Maybe too much. But not dangerous with casual use??
Moderation in all things, Honger.
Powerful and definitely shows the rhythm of things. Somehow we must learn to live with pain
or end it all. thank you.
Very welcome, Linda.
Thank you for reading and your comment!
Daaaaamn. Profound. Poetic. Controversial. Amazing piece
Yoooooo rider… You wrote about power learning how to move through humans. And the worst part? It didn’t force its way in. We opened the door.
Epic! I love the simplicity and innocence of these lines, especially when they bookend everything else: "once upon a time i am a flower.
delicate stem. paper-thin petals. white with pink blush edges.
sun feels good. rain feels good. growing feels good.
simple flower things."
Outstanding.
Bravo!
Reference roulade with history sauce.
I was sorry to see the bottom of the page.
Congratulations.
Many thanks, my friend.
Now I'm hungry.
Please, don’t eat your own words.
That's about the only thing I can eat without exploding.
The tour through history and the evolution of it is spot on.
Thank you, my friend.
🙏
Holy shit! I don't even have words! I am so glad that you reminded me to read this! Damn. You're on fire 🔥🔥🔥! The arch and imagery. Just flawless 👏👏👏!
Can't thank you enough, my friend.
Did you feel just a bit of TZ energy in there?
Which reminds me, I'm going to DM you another one to check out.
Absolutely! But also I need to know something. As a robot is it pronounced "row-bot" or is it how Serling pronounces it "row-bit?"
Damn, man/humanoid. This was epic.
I went to restack this:
"there’s a certain joy in completion.
a certain dread in being overtook.
a certain terror in becoming legacy."
But it wouldn't let me. You robots and your rigid rules. Just think of restacking quotes as using a photocopier. It isn't that big a deal... or is it? It might be, I have no idea. I haven't meditated deeply on it... yet.
Please don't meditate too hard, Buzz.
You may not remember who you are when you come out of it.
And that would be a pity for the world.
I can't tell you how much I appreciate this comment and your restack attempt.
A writer, nay, a thinker, of your stature pays visit to my lil Stack.
Honored.
I'm will place this date in my "Special Rewards" database.
I promise to never to wash my cheek again.
You the man (bot?), MP. Keep up the fine work, bro (bot; as in brobot).
Felt a tightness in my chest while reading. Thought I was on it for a second! Great work!
Love that!
Thanks so much for reading, as always.