Miss Heroin - The Poem (So now little man, you've grown tired of grass....)
When I was in third or fourth grade, waaaay back in the stone age called the early 80's drug awareness was already in our schools. Not just public schools either as I went to a tiny little Catholic school. I remember the county sheriff coming to talk to our class and handing out a thin magazine about just saying no to drugs and learning what they looked like so we would be aware if anyone offered us 'candy' that looked like that.
I took the little magazine home and studied it, as I couldn't even comprehend the idea of someone wanting to take pills of any sort - and they weren't even sick! It also had photos and explanations of other drugs, including a photo of some liquid, a syringe and green 'stuff' that looked like the parsley my Mom cooked with.
On the back of this magazine given out by the law enforcement officer at the time, was the poem Miss Heroin.
It was the first poem I memorized. One evening I recall working on memorizing it and then going into my parents bedroom where they were in bed, but still awake, reading books in bed. I stood at the foot of the bed and recited this poem to them. (My Dad was a cop and knew we had received the anti-drug pamphlets in school so he didn't think it odd I would recite this kind of poem).
This post comes from coffee infused brain, remembering this poem every time I read yet another news article about a heroin overdose. It seems it was a big problem back in the 70's, then other drugs came into the spotlight and apparently, from what I'm gleaming from the daily media, it's becoming the drug of choice again.
What comes around goes around. Fashion repeats every 20 years or so... maybe the 'fad' drugs do too? I don't know. I've never done a drug of any sort in my life and have no interest in following the ups and downs of the 'in' brain cell killer of choice.
But for what it's worth... the first poem I ever memorized (from the back of a anti-drug magazine given out by law enforcement to elementary schools in the late 1970's).
So now, little man, you've grown tired of grass
LSD, goofballs, cocaine and hash,
and someone, pretending to be a true friend,
said, "I'll introduce you to Miss Heroin."
Well honey, before you start fooling with me,
just let me inform you of how it will be.
You'll need lots of money,
As you have been told,
For sweetie, I'm much more expensive than gold.
For I will seduce you and make you my slave,
I've sent men much stronger than you to their graves.
You think you could never become a disgrace,
and end up addicted to Poppy seed waste.
So you'll start inhaling me one afternoon,
you'll take me into your arms very soon.
And once I've entered deep down in your veins,
The craving will nearly drive you insane.
You'll swindle your mother and just for a buck.
You'll turn into something vile and corrupt.
You'll mug and you'll steal for my narcotic charm,
and feel contentment when I'm in your arms.
The day, when you realize the monster you've grown,
you'll solemnly swear to leave me alone.
If you think you've got that mystical knack,
then sweetie, just try getting me off your back.
The vomit, the cramps, your gut tied in knots.
The jangling nerves screaming for one more shot.
The hot chills and cold sweats, withdrawal pains,
can only be saved by my little white grains.
There's no other way, and there's no need to look,
for deep down inside you know you are hooked.
You'll desperately run to the pusher and then,
you'll welcome me back to your arms once again.
And you will return just as I have foretold!
I know that you'll give up your body and soul.
You'll give up your morals, your conscience, your heart.
And you will be mine until, "Death Do Us Part"