… The Church Of The Poisoned Minds …

The Song and Poem below was produced from ‘The Essence’ Of;

‘The Church Of The Poisoned Minds’  Blog .. Here!

 

Please Click The Image Above – And Follow Along Below:

 

Well, I got a church on the edge of town,
Where the neon angels never come down,
I got a preacher with a silver tongue,
And a pocket full of tricks for everyone.

Come on in, brother, take your seat,
I’ve got a little fear to make life sweet,
I’ll sell you trouble, I’ll sell you blame,
Then I’ll sell you someone else to name.

Hey! Hey! — Can you hear that sound?
Poisoned minds going round and round!
Hey! Hey! — Let the good times roll,
Don’t let the devil buy your soul!

I got a television ten feet tall,
Telling everybody who’s gonna fall,
I got a headline screaming in red,
Putting crazy little nightmares in your head.

I’ll turn your neighbour into your foe,
Tell you where to stand and where not to go,
I’ll paint the world in black and white,
Then keep you dancing all through the night.

Hey! Hey! — Can you hear that sound?
Poisoned minds going round and round!
Hey! Hey! — Let the good times roll,
Don’t let the devil buy your soul!

But then came a rhythm from down the street,
With a wild young heartbeat and a four-four beat,
And the kids started singing, the walls came down,
And love put a new kind of light on the town.

Oh, I didn’t like that — no, not at all,
When strangers started dancing in the hall,
When music made the lonely feel free,
And everybody started to believe.

So I changed my words and I changed my tune,
Put a little darkness underneath the moon,
I dressed up hatred in a velvet suit,
And gave confusion a shiny pair of boots.

Hey! Hey! — Can you hear that sound?
Poisoned minds going round and round!
Hey! Hey! — Let the good times roll,
Don’t let the devil buy your soul!

But there’s something funny that I never knew,
There’s a little bit of light inside of you,
And when you get together, hand in hand,
There’s a kind of magic I don’t understand.

You can question the story, you can open your eyes,
You can see through the smoke and the pretty disguise,
You can laugh at the fear, you can dance through the night,
You can tell the old devil, “Get out of my sight!”

So turn up the music and tear down the wall,
Let love be the answer when the darkness calls,
For the church may be crooked and the preacher may lie,
But the human spirit was born to fly.

Hey! Hey! — Can you hear that sound?
Poisoned minds going round and round!
Hey! Hey! — Let the good times roll,
Don’t let the devil buy your soul!

Copyright © Ven Bunce  2026

 

Please Comment Below – And Check Out The Other Posts & Pages On This Blog – Thank You …Ven …

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Love Beyond The Abyss Of Addiction

 

 

Please Press Play Above And Follow Along With The Poem Below.

 

A story stirs beneath the noise, a tale of silent cries,
Of love stretched thin by shadows cast behind familiar eyes.
A home once warm with gentle days now trembles in the night,
As something dark has taken hold and drained away the light.

A parent stands with aching heart, yet will not turn away,
Though every hope seems worn and bruised by what each brings to stay.
They search for cures, for answers lost in corridors of doubt,
But every door they knock upon just leads them back without.

The child they held, the dreams they knew, now drift in altered haze,
Caught in a storm that clouds the mind and twists the passing days.
Not all is as it once appeared in softer, simpler time,
For what was once a fleeting vice now grows to deeper crime.

Words turn sharp and actions wild, the house no longer safe,
Love is tested, stretched and torn, yet still it holds its place.
The nights grow long with fear and grief, the days with quiet dread,
As hope and heartbreak intertwine in all that’s left unsaid.

Voices rise from outside walls with judgment cold and loud,
Casting stones from distant ground, assured and stern and proud.
They question pain they’ve never felt, condemn what they don’t know,
While those within the storm endure a far more brutal blow.

The truth is not a simple thread that neatly can be tied,
It’s woven through with sacrifice and tears that won’t subside.
To speak of such a fragile wound invites a heavy cost,
Yet silence too can bury souls already feeling lost.

For some, the climb back to the light is steep but still is real,
A fragile path through broken ground where time begins to heal.
But many wander endlessly, their strength too worn to fight,
Consumed by endless craving’s pull that dims their inner light.

And those who love must stand aside, made small in moments grim,
Watching as their presence fades against that urgent whim.
No easy cure, no gentle road, no painless way to mend,
Just fractured hope and stubborn love that refuses still to end.

So think before you cast your blame on hearts that dare to try,
For courage often wears a face that’s wet with tears, not dry.
The cost of love can cut so deep it echoes through the years,
In whispered guilt, in quiet rooms, in unrelenting fears.

And what of those who follow on, the children yet to grow?
What seeds are sown in fragile minds within this undertow?
A future shaped by present pain may carry hidden scars,
A generation reaching out through shadows toward the stars.

Copyright © Ven Bunce  2026

 

The poem above is about the trials and tribulations of living with a ‘Skunk’ addicted son who has turned a loving family environment into a ‘living hell’.
The family have tried every avenue available to help their son who they still love dearly but who seems to either not want to kick his addiction, or who can’t kick it. In the meantime the family unit is being subjected to physical violence, verbal abuse and stealing to fund this habit.

Now Skunk is not like your normal Weed. It is far stronger, very addictive, and causes very real psychological harm to the brain. While everyone hopes the son gets serious help and cures his disposition, the prognosis is not good for anyone on Skunk or even ‘Crack cocaine’.

Glue sniffing used to be the easiest ‘high’ to start with, and then the usual progression from there. As usual, parents are the last to know. When they do find out, they often seek help everywhere, but just hit brick walls all the time. The stealing is relentless. The court appearances are relentless, as they get caught trying to ‘fund’ the habit that spirals financially out of control.

Violence almost always follows in families plagued by this ‘cancer’ in society. Usually for small amounts of money, but just enough to get them their next hit. A family that has been lucky enough to avoid this misery ‘cannot’ even hope to understand the depths of despair that every involved parent goes through watching their child sink into a drug induced abyss. The fact is, some do manage to pull things round and enjoy what we call a normal life. But far too many simply don’t have that drive and determination needed.

We’re not talking easy options here. There is very real physical and emotional pain involved in kicking these drug addictions, and the worse part is, you know that you are insignificant in their lives at the time they are physically craving their next hit or fix.

Think twice, three times, or as many as it takes, before ever condemning a parent for showing such bravery.

Also remember; That we now have whole generations of drug-dependant parents bringing up the ‘new’ generation in drug influenced family units. The very children that are OUR future could all be drug confused adults in 30 years time and probably lees!…. Then What??

 

Please Like, Share, Comment and Subscribe on Youtube  if you like these poems & video’s ..
And Do Visit https://venbunce.com to read #VOTFP – AKA; ‘Visions Of The Future Past’ … The Mother of all of these Video’s 😎
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And Don’t Forget To Check Out The #VOTFP  ‘Concept-Playlist’  Here;

Thank You … Ven …

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The Beginning Of Time

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Please  ‘Play’  The Audio/Video Above And Follow Along With The Words Below.

In the beginning—only void,
No sound, no touch, no light employed.
A prison dark, oblivion’s keep,
Where silence reigned and time lay asleep.

Electrons drifted, cold, alone,
Negative sparks without a home.
They yearned for charge, a counterforce,
A spark of life to guide their course.

Then came imagination’s flame,
A positive thought, a shaping name.
From dream to dream, it wove the air,
Creating worlds that were not there.

Time awoke where none had been,
A rhythm pulsed, a hidden spin.
Equations formed, a ticking scheme,
To pace the dance of every dream.

But still those visions, vast, confined,
Were shadows locked inside the mind.
Until one spark grew bold, alive,
And dreamed of ways that form might thrive.

It dreamt vibration, subtle sound,
A trembling echo all around.
Music arose, a cosmic tune,
A heartbeat under endless gloom.

The beat grew faster, fierce, complete,
Electron clashed with charged heartbeat.
Expansion surged, the silence torn—
And in that song, the cosmos born.
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The Chord-Of-Life‘ was given
For Peace And Harmony.
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Catch Ya Later……

Ven Bunce ..

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