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ISSUE NO. 14

September 2025

ISSUE NO. 14

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September 2025

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Poetry

Heroin

By

Natasha and Mikayla

Natasha and Mikayla write from a prison in QLD.

Willy Pleasance

Behold my friend, I am heroin

Known by all as the destroyer of men

From where I came no one knows

A far away place where the poppies grow

I came to this country without getting caught

Since that day I have been hunted and sought

Whole nations have gathered to plot my destruction

They call me the breeder crime and corruption

I am more potent then whisky, more deadly then wine

Yes I am the Scourge of all mankind

My little white grains are nothing but waste

I am soft and fluffy and bitter to taste

I am white, I am brown but deadly to use

Once you’re addicted I really abuse

I am known in Thailand, Iraq and Iran

I am welcome in Turkey and have been to Japan

In cellophane bags I make my way to men in offices

And children at play

From heads of state to the lowest bum from richest estate

To the lowest of scum

I take a rich man and make him poor

I take a maiden and make her a whore

Make a beautiful woman forget her looks

And make a student forget his books

I can make you steal, lie, borrow and beg

Then search for a vein in your arm or your leg

I am known to be selfish and can fill you with greed

Still faceless, regardless of religion or creed

My gift is illusion my blessing is fake

Death and destruction follow my wake

The kiss of death to all whom I touch

I start as a gift and remain as a crutch

My friends are many but I am loyal to none

To destroy my work will be done

Some think of me merely a toy

But wise men know I aim to destroy

Run from me if you wish

I will never give up for sooner or later

You will return for a taste

Once in your bloodstream you’ll think I’m not mean

You will praise me as master then nod in a dream

You have heard my warning

But will take no heed

Put your foot in the stirrup, mount this great seed

Get right in the saddle and hold on real well

For the white horse heroin will take you to hell

Behold my friend, I am heroin

Known by all as the destroyer of men

From where I came no one knows

A far away place where the poppies grow

I came to this country without getting caught

Since that day I have been hunted and sought

Whole nations have gathered to plot my destruction

They call me the breeder crime and corruption

I am more potent then whisky, more deadly then wine

Yes I am the Scourge of all mankind

My little white grains are nothing but waste

I am soft and fluffy and bitter to taste

I am white, I am brown but deadly to use

Once you’re addicted I really abuse

I am known in Thailand, Iraq and Iran

I am welcome in Turkey and have been to Japan

In cellophane bags I make my way to men in offices

And children at play

From heads of state to the lowest bum from richest estate

To the lowest of scum

I take a rich man and make him poor

I take a maiden and make her a whore

Make a beautiful woman forget her looks

And make a student forget his books

I can make you steal, lie, borrow and beg

Then search for a vein in your arm or your leg

I am known to be selfish and can fill you with greed

Still faceless, regardless of religion or creed

My gift is illusion my blessing is fake

Death and destruction follow my wake

The kiss of death to all whom I touch

I start as a gift and remain as a crutch

My friends are many but I am loyal to none

To destroy my work will be done

Some think of me merely a toy

But wise men know I aim to destroy

Run from me if you wish

I will never give up for sooner or later

You will return for a taste

Once in your bloodstream you’ll think I’m not mean

You will praise me as master then nod in a dream

You have heard my warning

But will take no heed

Put your foot in the stirrup, mount this great seed

Get right in the saddle and hold on real well

For the white horse heroin will take you to hell

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By Phillip

There’s irony, hypocrisy, fallacy, a vast ocean of distance to cross. The “saint”, the “sinner”, it’s lunacy, that the ignorant could save the lost.

Creative

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I’m not belle of the ball, not the very least, but we have something in common, I’m in love with a beast. But the beast is not a person but a drug that I call meth, I’ve been talking to myself for hours, I’m running out of breath.

Creative

ISSUE NO. 22

1 MIN READ

Nostalgia

By Dennis

Nostalgia is a gentle haze, a soft and fading, golden maze, where time itself begins to blur, and memory’s touch is sweet and pure.

Creative

ISSUE NO. 22

1 MIN READ

Art From Inside

By Lanie

Our team was blown away by this beautiful painting.

Creative

ISSUE NO. 21

1 MIN READ