Benjamin Luttrell III
Cracked Out, Punishment of the Unmerciful DrugThere are no dreams to dream about, no desires to be fulfilled,
it's just a self-inflicted torture from another bad cocaine deal…
She looks scared, running down a dark and deceptive street,
paranoid from her own footsteps and the sound of her heartbeat…
She doesn't know where she is going, or what she will do when she gets there…
no longer are there doubts or fears in her mind
because this monstrous addiction has left them far behind…
She feels that there is no need to take a bath, or fresh food to eat,
and with the thought of doing more drugs, she won't even find time to sleep…
Now she's selling her body, just to get another hit,
never thinking about AIDS or DEATH, she says that she is way too slick;
that her only concern is who would be her next trick.
She says that she wants to stop, or at least she lies and plays like she do, but as
soon as there are more drugs around, she proves thart she is not really through.
I feel guilty; no, I feel ridiculous and ashamed, because I was one of the ones who
helped her toss her beautiful life away… I feel as if I was the
one who opened the trapdoor from underneath her feet,
poisoning her with that man-made poison from the ghetto streets,
and then sat back and watched her as she agressively slipped
over and over into that deadly darkness… Now her heart is beating way too fast,
she's overdosing on that poison, and she doesn't even realize
that the next beat of her heart will be her last…
But finally society's problem is almost over, because
this beautiful African queen lay dead in the middle of our ghetto streets…
She never knew the joys of this world, only the cruelty and destruction
of the cocaine drug overlords…
Death is only what death alllows death to be; Death is dead.
The June 16, 1994 newspaper read,
"AN UNIDENTIFIED 16 YEAR OLD DOPE-FIEND DIES ON THE CORNER
OF 27TH AND BURLEIGH STREET;
ALL CRACKED OUT!!!!!© Benjamin Luttrell
• • • • •
Why Worry
When I think about God's creation, so great and so beautiful,
I think about His love for me, so kind and so merciful.
I think back to every time that I've ever needed His loving care,
Without a doubt and without a blame, He was always there.
Whether it be the little things or the big things, He still would provide
And never once did He turn, or try to hide…
SO WHY SHOULD I WORRY?The food that I eat or the clothes that I wear, the air that
I breathe or the life that I live, it all belongs to my God.
When I am hungry, it is He who feeds me, when I am cold, He
warms me in his loving arms, and when I am scared, it is
He who comforts me beyond any human understanding…
SO WHY SHOULD I WORRY?When I was spiritually dead, He gave me His breath to breathe,
When I was doubtful, He taught me how to believe, when
I was confused, He told me his life story, and when I feel misused,
He offers me His Father's spirit-lifting Glory…
SO WHY SHOULD I WORRY?So if, or when, my doubs and my fears, my wories and all of
my other crazy thoughts shall appear, I shall call upon my
Father, my Lord, my God, for He promises that He will always
be near; And then there will be nothing else to worry about.
SO WHY SHOULD I WORRY …This poem was written
for the Glory of
JESUS the CHRIST© Benjamin Luttrell
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