Best Nicotine Poems

*LIFE,  WHAT A RUSH*

Silence needs to be spoken and put out like a cigarette
The joy - the laughter - the expression found in a...

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In the visiting room evening's ebony is shellacking everything.
He sits across from me at the sable-shaded table, in shades,
pours black coffee pungent as the Gauloises...

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 x You,
the one who hurts me.
 x You,
the one who chains me.
 x You,
the one who controls me like a puppet.
 x You,
the one...

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Empty pack - no cigarettes,
but another pack has one.
Should she smoke it now?
Cigarette stained fingers
stroked the tube.

She teased her mouth with it,
unlit, but lighter reachable,
calming...

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Old Zack Adams sits a slouch’n so sloppy drunk on a bar-room stool,
Wear’n his cheap-threaded cowboy suit and a stained satin shirt.
All the while a...

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Welcome to the Bijou

Sometimes the creepiest places are old.
There’s a smell to them of stale nicotine
and rancid oil.

The denizens are often as ancient
as the peeling...

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I smoked a pack of Marlboros 
Every day, left butts smoldering
In dirty, smelly ashtrays
The nicotine addiction compelled 
Me to quit… yet, I did not
I smoked...

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We are The Generation,
Holding tomorrow in the palm of our hands
Ancestors deemed us responsible
Yet Today only reprimands

We are The Generation, the majority
Of futile yearnings, beguiled...

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The gifted house and the ghost of his Grandmother trapped him. Her presence clung with the leftover nicotine to the walls of every room. A...

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I remember those days when just a kid,
the old ten shilling note, and the odd quid.*
Teddy boys in their drain pipes, fur collars
smelling of nicotine,...

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Brown, yucky and tasteless
Toxic monsters
All tightly bundled
Into a thin roll.
That's me! 
Slim and handy
As I squeeze in between
Your fingers.
Burning my tail, 
I turn into ashes...

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After a long work day I come home to a long warm shower.  It was getting late into 
evening hours.  I sat down...

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Smokeless inhales hurt.
I cough tar on my shirt.
As my black lungs breathe,
Shrilling exhales wheeze.

Cabrona
Falls me
Down to
My knees.

The nicotine cracks
My will.
My composure
Spills.

I want 
This.
I must 
Have...

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A dark room with a small wooden desk, no lamp
A thick pad of paper and a typewriter, never used
Like a museum exhibit, though they aren’t...

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nicotine stained fingers
tap ashes
into a shot glass half
full of midnight molasses
amber buzz in my
bones
watching from across the room
she knows i got a jones
she got a...

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