Fentanyl Crisis

Fentanyl Crisis – by Shannon Griffiths

ambulance sirens singing
death tones
at least five times daily
ringing through my ears
at work,

trying to make a living
but can’t stop thinking of all those


artificial opiate – liquid
materialization of death
the plastic cylindrical cloak
drapes around the user’s blood;


escape into their minds
away from their lives
sometimes          forever.

take a difference chance at dying,
the way of living
is forgotten now.

Light Collisions

Light Collisions – by Shannon Griffiths

the stars and planets were somehow
not enough for us to light our desired path
because we are never satisfied until excess
is achieved

we created an artificial light source
so we were able to stay awake at night long after dusk,
so we were unable to feel the true aloneness that we are.
we are scared of nature’s unknown capabilities
so we deny it of any action;

this fear dictates our lives as our greatest weapon and demon.
we are so full of irony…
because now we have an empty night sky
and a longer day
which bores us, exhausts us, alienates us
and only thickens our feelings of aloneness.
we have made our world hollow.
the cosmic connection is lost;
we’ve forgotten what a light from above is like.

Factory Existence

Factory Existence

 – by Shannon Griffiths

Putting a price on the earth and
on people’s lives
at a cheap cost
because that’s all you think it’s worth

A child’s factory existence
a penny a day… and we don’t even have them
anymore, so how can we fathom this?

The earth is raped with each new pair of jeans,
each new piece of plastic
we feed to our oceans

Your pound of coffee took
an entire year for one plant to grow
and you drank it in a few weeks…

Timal was murdered today because he didn’t
pan enough diamonds in an hour…
only Timal worked with what the earth provided

Alicia was kissed by a man
thrice her age on her wedding day,
and her mother cried

Damien was making the “world’s best sneaker”
by the time he was four… what have you created by then?

We are all one, can’t you see
that when you kill a man
a part of your soul dies too?

We’re All Fucked

We’re All Fucked – by Shannon Griffiths

why must we trust the choice of one individual
at the extent of millions

it’s kind of funny to me that we all like to think
we trust science, yet we view ourselves outside
of the issue of climate change
“it’s not really an issue if we pretend it’s not real”
(I have a fucked up sense of humour I guess)

we choose to live like we do,
denying anything is wrong…
but think about the fact that we are so
and ironically we are killing ourselves

it’s so redundant –
it takes three litres of water
to make one litre of bottled water

our oceans are getting acidic.
REALLY acidic.
and our oceans give life to the entire planet

and now with trump.

if I still believed in the bible
I would think this is how the book
of revelation must start.
if you think my words sound vulgar
you are not prepared to see the ugly truth of our future.


Letters – by Shannon Griffiths

Sometimes I envy those
surrounded by friends they’ve had for
40 years since childhood

How my gravitational pull differs vastly…
Maybe I am meant to drift in and out
of your lives                  to always be
that                   unopened letter you received
on your birthday
years ago.

Perhaps I am meant to be with you
for a specific time,
with no reason
until it flashes
before your eyes on your deathbed.

Johnny Now

Johnny Now – by Shannon Griffiths

The homeless man who rambles on about
The messes of this world
And the holes in his shoes
And the way his coat drags on the rainy ground
Maybe in his madness he speaks of truths
Who are we to trust the logic
Of structured language?
Maybe his soul really did go to hell
And was beaten there while
His body
Remained here


Adulting – by Shannon Griffiths

got my own cubicle
eyes strained from computer light

nobody checks up on me
i do the work

and get bored
because i have looked at it all
i have seen so much

i have experienced so much
my body aches from regrowing


i need a smoke break
i don’t even like smoking anymore
but i need an excuse

to get out of my cubicle
to get out of my head

Shannon, Meaning River

Shannon, Meaning River – by Shannon Griffiths

I am the river. I change
with the seasons, my angles bend and warp
but my direction is constantly forward.
I am easily manipulated
to fit             into confinements
but never can I be fully contained.

And I can shape the earth, but in turn
my essence is moved by the earth.
I roam             in  de  pen  dent  ly            towards the
oceans, free… I am intertwined with everything
which surrounds me.
I flow onward, weaving through
each earthly crevice, sharing parts of myself
with              nature’s               womb,
absorbing my environment,
leaving a puddle in my absence.

I form         sand with my waves
from entire boulders…
my strength, underestimated
my stability, overestimated
as I can bring life to the dead
and death to the living.
I am                a bearer of washed away souls,
holding many mysteries in my waters,
I am         filled        and        alive
with so many others.

My cleansing body
of natural substance
carries things renewed
in my currents of change.

People are lured in by my glistening surface,
but I am deceiving in my serenity…
I become polluted and clouded
at certain moments in time,        yet
even my deepest of waters are transparent.

People arrive and leave, or they stay
too long and I forget of their fragility
until it is too late.
The river flows on,
my life will remain eternal.
I am the river;              both a blessing and a curse.

Hands of Gravity

Hands of Gravity – by Shannon Griffiths

Our ankles are tied
to the earth       by gravity’s hands
But our souls
belong not to the  confining  grasp
Of gravity – souls are weightless,
limitless, free

Our bodies belong not to the earth,
or to our souls, but to the forces
of both; everything is nothing,
nothing is everything

Our spirits, energies, vibrational
wave-lengths have no end
nor beginning,
Unlike the earth,
unlike our bodies’ births.

I looked up into the black sky
and saw an emptiness
but I know space is far
from empty, and I know those
Tiny speckles of light
are actually great masses suspended
In space-time

the sky took my soul for a moment,
Because I let it

and nothing has since been the same