“Being The Parent Of An Opiate Addict,” poems by Lee Warner Brooks

In the words of Lee Warner Brooks. Just published! This is a moving collection of poems from Austen Berj Brooks‘ dad, written in the days following Austen’s death. Pure raw love and emotion, beautifully written, evocative, in the center of a sad, searing reality. A tribute to both Lee Warner Brooks and to Austen Berj Brooks.

Being the Parent of an Opiate Addict: A Real-Time Poetic Response is a unique and timely contribution to the discussion of a growing crisis, as more and more…
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“Mind Field” Rap Published Posthumously|InsideOut Literary Art’s new online literary journal.

MIND FIELD – Austen Berj Brooks

undr scr review aims to give young writers a voice internationally. In lieu of this ongoing mission, we are honored to have the opportunity to publish the work of Austen Berj Brooks,
posthumously.

MIND FIELD
By Austen Berj Brooks, November 2012

Life is a journey, yo, not a destination;
I’m anxious while I’m waiting to escape annihilation.
The basis of my trouble is distant and evasive;
It bubbles up and suffocates the bliss of my creation.
My history sticks with me and keeps me in the basement;
Defiantly I color it with my imagination.
A useful gift I’m usin’ it for radical creatin’;

My words of warning are a lesson;
All the answers lie within reflective introspection.

The present is a gift but the future’s still in question;
My heart’s about to quit and my journey’s with my essence.

I wanna make something that lasts that’s worth more than gold.
My mind is a mine field I have to patrol;
Scavenge eternal secrets between the blasts to unfold
my future and past together like they’ve been wove,
Like my hands are tied and tethered with one pressed on the stove.
I don’t have time to stand in line when I’m tryin’ to reach my goals;
Hindsight’s 20/20 it took 20 years to see they stole
innocence and happiness in quantities I do not know.
Accept my humble challenge, keep your balance, truth is what I show,
But only if you seek.
Cause some of us were born to see, while others never get a peek.
The one who gets caught in between is lost forever in his dreams.
I’m just saying what I’ve seen – drugs are fun but shame of fiends.
Throw a kid into a cell – does that help him to get clean?
I’ve got friends whose lives are damaged,
they were young, they couldn’t manage.
They grew up and found themselves
distant shells of former selves.

Looking deep into your eyes
still I’ll never truly find
what’s projected in your mind.
We connect with honest lies;
I’m in love with cloudy skies.
How do I fall for what I despise?