Dantes Inferno

My latest poem - Dante's Inferno

Dante's inferno was written for me,
The inner circle of hell,
My heaven to be.
A 14th century sage,
He foresaw my life,
The outer rings,
Just a blessing in disguise.
A pain of living so hellish,
A choice I believe.
Between one of slow death,
And madness for me.
Sweating cold on a bed,
Nails pinned through my chest.
Green seeping holes,
Gouged deep in my legs.
A thousand scars for life,
Each one a story to me,
A reminder of pain,
Then bliss beyond belief.
I lie in my grave and stare at the sky,
Grave diggers above,
Piling mud from a high.
A sinking feeling is one,
Only I can receive,
For a life of pain,
No-one else can believe.
As Dante foretold 7 centuries ago,
My life in an inferno waiting to blow.

By Doubledipped - 2013

2013 - Still trying to get clean

5 years later and nothing has changed

It's been five years since I first put my thoughts and poems about gear up on powderandpins.blogspot.co.uk and since that time I have had nothing but pain (physical).

I had planned to get off the gear by now but then I suddenly found out I had cancer and they put me on Fentanyl patches (100 micrograms per hour - the strongest ones - and they still don't touch the sides).

My using on top probably didn't help and I remember after I had been told I had cancer I was banging up to an eighth of gear a day, plus taking 200mg of diazepam, drinking 2 bottles of wine and still having to go to work to pay for it all!

A Functioning Addict they call it - shame that I now have a diazepam habit on top of a raging gear habit as well.

£4k a month I earn and it all goes on smack.

In fact I worked out the other day I have spent just over half a million on gear since I got on it at 16 (proper habit at 18). I could be living in a fucking mansion by now! Probably unhappy as fuck still though.

So I'm in a catch 22. I can't get off the opiates as I need them for my pain and if I did I would be in agony. Fun! I even had the head of a detox centre tell me it would be "cruelty" to detox me as they couldn't give me any pain managment OR anything for the cluck. Joy!

Well that's what I've been up to. Still alive even though 5 people I know have died in the last year.

One with a half ounce egg up his ass that someone actually got out so the dealer wouldn't get busted - nice job if you can get it hey!

Poems about Heroin

Poems about Heroin

Jingle Jangle

Jingle Jangle, Jingle Jangle
My heads up my arse like a fucking spangle.
Coz I'm banged up, Clanged up and rattling to fuck,
but that's the price I pay for running out of luck.
Prison food, the dog food, all the fucking swill,
none of it matters when you're feeling this ill.
The bunk beds, razors edge, I'm on my torture rack,
none of it would matter if someone would give me some smack.
Keep twisting and turning in a moments toil,
God I wish I had a beetle crawling down the foil.
These messed up games, the ones we like to play,
all I wanted was a gram a day.
So hurry up Joey, you said you'd be quick,
shit it's getting late, looks like I'm gonna go sick.
There's sweat on my back and fire in my brain,
I aint ever gonna touch that shit again.
All right babe, just a touch, just to see it pass,
then I promise you finito at last.
So what ever comes, or come what may,
the Wigstars the man, let me hear you say,
Jingle Jangle, Jingle Jangle,
I'm all fucked up, I'm a fucking Spangle.

By Steven "Michael" Williams

Freedom of the Street

I met a tramp with a stomach cramp,
about to bang up a methadone amp.
He was hungry, cold, smelly and old,
had a runny nose from a smack addicts cold.
He justs wants to be warm.
Warm and stoned,
his blagging technique a fine art he’s honed.
Years of begging, robbing and skanking,
a loveless life but free of nagging.
He’s his own man, a man of the street,
living life light on his feet.
He don’t care that no-one else does,
he survives this life with a heroin buzz.
People may stare, spit and shout,
but the drink and drugs block it all out.
He sits on the floor, all alone,
Burtons shop doorway his very own home.

By DoubleDipped

Sweet Dreams 

Sweet Dreams,
dreaming of you,
all dressed in blue,
pink or red,
whatever you wear, you’re in my head.
All night, I toss and turn,
hoping for that chance,
a kiss on the lips,
a midnight dance.
The moonlight weeping,
holding hands and making plans,
wedding bells and baby smells,
a partner for life with my imaginary wife.
I touch my cock.
sweet dreams turn to wet dreams.
I wake up covered in sweat,
but I’ll never forget.
That’s where she’ll stay,
in my head, but in my bed..

By DoubleDipped


Jobless Opportunities

Being on the dole,
what fun!
Oh the joy of signing on.
the pleasure of the unemployed,
the workers unite, the jobless destroyed.
Sitting at home, alone,
smoking bone,
chatting on my mobile phone.
I need drugs to pass the time,
maybe I'll go out do some crime,
meet a nice bird,
play a game of Cludeo,
join a gym,
learn Judo.
There’s a whole other life out there,
but do I care?
The whole world to explore
all those jobs to ignore.
I know what I’ll do instead
I think I’ll spend my life in bed.

By DoubleDipped


Dig It

Diggin, diggin, diggin deep holes.
In my arms, in my legs.
My head it swirls.
I feel the pin, and I feel the pain.
Mum I feel the sorrow,
And I feel the shame.

By Wigstar 2002

The Worried Man

If I don’t give a shit about myself,
how can I give a shit about other people?
Said the man to the drug counsellor
after he’d banged up another white hit
and took a sip
from the Valium linctus bottle.
Smack is my life,
I might as well be done with it,
marry it,
and let the bitch be my wife.
We all say shit we don’t mean,
and we all think shit we don’t say,
but leave that discussion for another day,
coz today is a quiet day.
If I got told I had cancer and had a month to live,
I would cut this implant out my gut,
and go back on the smack in a flash.
The choice is between living and being miserable,
or being high on a slow ride to die.
The counsellor sighed,
I nearly cried,
but with laughter.
What does he know?
About the reasons, the problems, the issues in my head,
maybe I’ll write another poem and show him when I’m dead.

By Doubledipped


Brown Bitch

I’m in love with a lady,
Her name is brown.
She consumes my heart,
Makes me forget,
Everything,
For a while.
But then I need her beside me,
Again.
I cannot live without her.
She scares me yet I cannot leave.
Together we will die
Hand in hand,
I fear that my funeral has already been planned.

By Doubledipped

More Poems

Here are some more poems about gear and my life - first written in 2000!

Gear Pixies

The gear pixies are here,
They’re at it again,
Stealing stuff,
For personal gain.
It was here a minute ago,
I saw it there.
No one would nick it,
No one would dare.
The only people,
With big enough balls,
Are those little pixies,
3 inches tall.
They come round here,
When everyone’s stoned,
And when no-ones looking,
They nick your bone.
Your smack, your cash,
Your pills your hash.
When they go pinching,
They make sure your mashed.
So you blame your mates,
You have a go,
But where your gears gone,
Nobody knows.
You check all your pockets,
You jump up and down.
You check all the tops,
You check on the ground.
Your gears disappeared,
Into thin air.
You punch a wall,
You pull at your hair.
Wherever its gone,
One things for sure,
Whatever you had,
You have no more.
Those pixies have robbed you,
They’ve done you good.
They’ve sneaked in your gaff,
And stole what they could.
So while your crying,
Dabbing at tears.
Just think of those pixies,
Smoking your gear.

By DoubleDipped

My Mum

Mum sits there,
In front of the tele,
Tray of food sitting on her belly.
Eating, thinking,
Watching Eastenders.
What’s in her head I think and wonder,
Washing, ironing,
Cleaning, shopping?
Her house is proud,
But I don’t see her stopping.
Or does she aspire to greater things?
Probably.
But I wouldn’t know, she is only my mum,
With me as a fuckup as her only son.
Wasting time with my dangerous habits,
My selfish behaviour.
Does she think she could have made better?
Does she want me to succeed?
Does she want me to be good?
Healthy,
Alive.
All I want is my shirts to be ironed,
And the funny thing is,
She doesn’t seem to mind.
That’s why I love her so much.
My mum.

By DoubleDipped (2000)

Getting Clean

The joys of trying to get clean

First written in 2008 - Still on it!

So I am currently planning to get clean. 

Its been two years in the making so far since my last dismal attempt. I spent New Year in a detox centre going through hell and then within two weeks I was back on it. 

It was a Friday and I was at work. I remember getting into an argument at work with my boss and another member of staff and having to walk out the office because I was about to throw someone through a window. I went home hoping to talk about it with my old man and ended up having a massive row with him. 

I could have easily thrown him through a window as well. I'm quite a placid person on the smack but seem to flip out very easily when clean which is one of the reasons I always end up back on the gear, I get tired of waking up in police cells with sore fists. So I stormed out to avoid a fight and ended up scoring some gear.

Later that night I went home and at the back of a drawer found an old bottle of methadone. My Dad was supposed to clear my room whilst I was in detox but he had obviously missed this well hidden bottle. 

So feeling like shit and thinking I was probably getting the sack on Monday as well as thrown out the house in the morning I guzzled the lot down.

I didn't die or even OD just slept for the rest of the weekend. 

It was later that I realised the bottle was one I had watered down with the intent of selling it to get some score money. So I was saved by my own deviousness.

Anyway that was the end of that little drug free break in a 10 year period of opiate abuse. I am one of those people that when "clean" only need to dabble once for it to snowball back to heavy habit. It has taken me years to come to that knowledge but for some reason every time I will go through pure hell getting the shit out my body but within a couple of weeks will have forgotten that hardship. 

"One little boot won't hurt" seems to be a recurring sentence that always leads me back to where I am now today. 

Its something that I hope I can manage to stick to next time but knowing how my brain works when clean, which is totally different from now, means that the only chance I have of surviving those first 4-6 months off gear is by having one of those fucking expensive Naltroxone implants injected into my stomach. 

So if anyone wants to donate the £1000 needed then post a comment and if I get enough responses I might put one of those Paypal donate buttons up. Otherwise its another dastardly bank loan for me. 

Oh the joys of smack.

If only I could put aside some of that money I spend each day on it I'd have enough for 5 implants by October. But that aint going to happen is it. Thus the dilemma at the heart of my addiction. A score in the pin is always going to win. Laters.

New Years Resolutions

Not another unfulfilled new years resolution

First written in 2008 on powderandpins.blogspot.co.uk/2008/09/new-years-resolutions.html - unfortunatley my resolution didn't come true that year :(.

Right this is the first lot of poems I'm putting up on this new site.

I used to actually have a dedicated site for all my poems over at powderandpins.blogspot.co.uk but I lost the login details and Google are cunts and won't let me back in.

Then again I used to have a lot of other things as well including in no particular order: my health, a fit rich girlfriend, no debts, veins, money in the bank.

Well not to worry coz I may be what the Oxford Dictionary terms a "fuck up" but I'm not finished yet. You know why?? Coz I have a plan.

Yes I may have been in this game since I was 16 and yes a lot of good friends have fallen along the way but I am still standing and have a little thing called hope. A bit of that and the knowledge that whatever comes to pass I am still a good person no matter what bad shit I have done in the past is keeping me headstrong. So I wrote a list this New Years day of things I want to do this year and starting writing again was one of them.

Life is a long journey made up of many little steps and the first step of mine is to put up all my old material in the hope that it will inspire me to write some new stuff. So here it is. Make of it what you will. If you have some good stuff of your own feel free to post. And to anyone out there who cares: have a good life if you want one! Laters.

Drought Driving Me Crazy

The brown river is running very dry down here!

(This was written in 2008)

So if you are in the game you will know there has been a major drought on for the last few months which has driven up the price of smack as well as driving down the quality.

If you buy a deal today you're more likely to end up jabbing benzos, paracetamol, barbs or even ketamine! 

That is if the deal does contain anything of a pharmaceutical nature and not just pure shit e.g milk powder, baby formula, glucose, citric and they are only the harmless additives. I have not known it to be so bad for purity and have been one of the many to provide clean piss tests on more than one occasion in the last few months. Now you might be one of these people who think "well good no smack less junkies and less crime" well it doesn't work that way.

If your a smack head who thieves to fund their habit then they are going to have to work at least twice as hard to get enough money to stop rattling. If you spend £50 a day and it ends up being all shit you're not just going to think "oh well never mind I will just sit here ill until tomorrow" no you will end up finding more money and buying more "smack" until you get something to stop the sickness. So unfortunately for the straights who get affected by crime related to heroin use (shop lifting, burglary, theft) then there will be more not less.

Now why has this drought come around? I have heard a number of theories which started off with a major drug bust in London of £100 million + worth of gear found in a boot of a car and a major gang taken off the street. But as we all know as one dealer goes down another one takes their place and one bust in London should not dry out most of the country. I have heard that its dry out west, up north in Manchester and even Liverpool where a lot of the smack comes into this country.

The war in Afghanistan was another reason. Remember Tony Blair giving this as one reason to go to war over there? That country produces 90% of the worlds smack and they were going to stop it all at the source. Well lets have a short history lesson about the Stan and its opium production.

1. Soviet Union invades in 78.
2. USA sees this as a way of sucking them into their own Vietnam war and backs the rebels and Islamic fundamentalists. To help fund the guerrilla war effort and also demoralise the young conscript Soviet army they come up with the idea of growing opium. As well as getting the money from this cash crop to fund the war and getting the invading army hooked on smack it was also one of the few crops that earns the poorest people in that part of the world any money.
3. After the war is over the opium keeps coming and the rest of the world is basically flooded with it. I wouldn't be surprised if the CIA saw this as a nice little earner just like the arms one way, coke the other secret flights they did in the 80's with the contras in South America.
4. The Taliban come to power and see the drug as un-Islamic and actually ban the growing of the crop. Opium production drops dramatically.
5. 9-11 happens and then the USA, UK invade the Stan once again to kick the Taliban's ass and stop the evil terrorists as well as the evil drug trade that keeps most of the country alive.
6. Ummm whats this? Opium production since the "War on Terror" actually increases year on year with record breaking crops and once again cheap smack is hitting the streets of the UK.

In fact this year the Stan had another bumper crop of Opium and the UK, USA are not in fact even trying to stop the planting, growing and exportation of the crop as:

a) Most of the country are involved in either growing or trading in it and they are trying to get the local population on side so taking away their livelihood will only drive young men into working for the Taliban.

b) The CIA, MI5, ISI and other "secret service" intelligence organisations who are involved in dodgy deeds that they often have to fund themselves "off book" so to speak are probably involved up to their necks in the trade themselves and why would they want to kill a golden goose? If you don't believe me about the CIA and drugs just do a Google search and read one of the million articles available.

So if the Stan has had another bumper crop what the fuck is going on and why is there no gear on the streets? Well a BBC news report I saw the other day actually gave a couple of reasons.

1. The increasing middle class of China and Russia means that the markets for smack and other illegal drugs is growing. As these 2 countries are closer to the Stan it seems that a lot of the drug is going north to Russia and east to China rather than to the west through Iran, Turkey, Kosovo, Italy and then UK.

2. There seems to be some disruption of the trade going on by the authorities in Turkey. The main 2 groups who trade smack in the UK are the Turks and the Pakistanis and they both have their own links, routes into the country and sources etc. As most of the drug comes through Turkey on its way here then that's going to be a killer.

So there you have the reason. We are not nicking more dealers and we are not stopping the evil terrorists from growing it out in the Stan. The drugs are out there but just not coming our way at the moment. Hopefully the Turks will sort their shit out and it will get better quickly. No-one wants to have their house or car robbed and no-one wants to bang up crushed up Nurofen and get blood clots and no hit. So its in all our interests that the smack starts coming back.

Remember a heroin addict is not very likely at all to commit a violent act to get money to pay for their habit as that's usually done by desperate crack heads and also don't forget all those piss heads stumbling out the pub at closing time.

They do not hang out on street corners giving you grief as you walk to the shops and they do not want any trouble all they want is to get their money the easiest way how and once they have it they sit at home and sleep. I will leave the debate about prescribing heroin to addicts for another day and I am not condoning any sort of criminal behaviour that affects others.

However as we do not prescribe heroin to addicts and there are a hell of a lot of addicts out there this means that they will be robbing to pay for it. So a drought that reduces the market may hopefully reduce habits in the long run but it will mean people commit twice as much crime as they need twice as much money to buy their medicine.

And before anyone shouts at me I work for my living and my habit and I would recommend any junkie who can do the same. It reduces the amount of time you spend at home booting and it takes your mind off the shit that daily life usually is.