Forty hours at work
Doing the same thing
Over and over
You daydream a lot
You have to or you will go mad
Dreaming of being with your mates
Joking and sucking down some cigs
There may be some hot wings
Paradise on Earth
But one thing makes the wait bearable
Knowing that endless bottles of beer await
Cold and tasty
They are waiting for you
Hopefully they will be enough to get you drunk
Maybe that drunk will last until your work starts
And you start daydreaming all over again
For a working man that is his life
Honestly, he loves the way his week works
After all, for him, it is his life
And that is just how he wants it
© Poem – XIV/XII/MMXXIV
LRET
SMOKE 'EM IF YOU GOT 'EM
FROM TOP TO THE BOTTOM
CIGS, JOINTS, OR CIGARS
IN PUBLIC, ALONE, OR BARS
LOVE WHAT YOU TASTED
LOVE WHEN YOU'RE WASTED
SMOKE ON THE RISE
SMOKE IN YOUR EYES
three hundred thousand unsmoked fags
since i took the plunge and stopped
i did it cold turkey mates, suffered as
my nicci levels plunged and dropped.
no nicci patches,
no nicci chewing gum,
no electric cigs,
good enough for some,
no therapies to help,
they just didn’t exist,
all those placebos
i so sadly missed.
so i went cold turkey mates
mainly through short cash
so why do i still dream of
lighting up, crashing the ash.
i dream i still smoke,
enjoy every single one
memories flooding back
from years long gone.
every single pilsner
accompanied by a ***
nothing quite like a grosse
and a long deep drag.
its sad really;
just a sick joke,
because in real life i just can’t
stand the smell of ciggie smoke.
i did it cold turkey mates, suffered
as my nicci levels plunged and dropped
three hundred thousand unsmoked fags
since i took the plunge and stopped
I've got to tell you I've stopped smoking,
Not had one for nearly a year.
Some turn to eating lots of sweeties,
I turned to drinking more beer.
I have just got to say
It's getting easier each day.
I can now drink ten pints,
Without a wobble or a sway.
But I am putting on weight
Drinking all of this beer,
So I'm going to try whiskey,
Starting next year.
I saw you standing there
Only see your chest
Long blue denim dress
Bare shoulders
Slim sexy tattoos
Do you desire me?
I do you
You remind me of the witch
I serve you cigs
From my shop
I give you your change
See it's the gay
So damn sexy
Lady boy esque
Let's watch Coming Out
And have some fun
Now nownow!
Juniper’s Daughter: Fookin' Weech
Nick Armbrister
No more cigs.
no more bad habits;
just a man with self-control.
At some point, we all need
to be managed by ourselves.
Perhaps if we’d all begun when younger;
fifty-something would, be a very young number.
With the wisdom of age, when we are younger;
we might climb mountains, when we’re older.
Or Trek the Himalayas and swim the oceans deep.
Run and win a marathon, not needing so much sleep.
Alas, mistakes made in the past,
Have caught up with us all and fast.
But, it may not be too late;
to unseal and to change,
fates.
Pigs are happy oinkers that don't wear wigs
Pugs on the other hand, confer
and humorously un-burr ;
One thing they got in common with pigs
they both don't smoke cigs.
and they both don't do gigs
March 12, 2019
Guess who the mad gab is all about
It's us, a well known pack of old geezers
Old grandpas that are in trouble no doubt
Now most of us are coughers and weezers
It was a risk to be cool and not hide
Drawn to the taboo tobacco, that's right
While John and Paul sang ticket to ride
We would smoke that tobacco all night!
Some warned against it when sales began
Others would speak out and say balderdash
We are just cool like the Marlboro man
And for cigs, kerplunk, put down their cash
Our life has gone up in smoke it's true
Now we need oxygen close to our heads
But don't feel bad for this old sorry crew
We do have some fancy hospital beds!
3/11/2019
For Anyone Game? contest
By Carol Connell
Twas the night before Christmas
And try as I may
I’d never be done
By the break of next day.
The stockings weren’t hung
Hell, they weren’t even knit
And the children in bed?
No, they’re throwing a fit!
And me in my kerchief
And Kmart house coat
Was testing a Holiday
Ice Cream-tini float.
When what to my
Bloodshot eyes should appear
But my absentee husband
With two cases of beer!
His eyes, how they glistened
His laughter, how scary
His walk was zig zag
His nose a red cherry!
He spoke not a word
(We last spoke in ought-eight)
But climbed up in my trailer
Like I’d cigs on rebate.
Then laying a finger
Inside of his nose
He belched and he farted
And took off his clothes.
But I heard him exclaim
‘Ore passing out for the night,
“Merry Christmas to All!
Can I have Newport Lite?”
November 28, 2018
RUNAWAY
They do not even care, for them
I am not even there, they just walk on
And I don't want their eyes on me
Don't want to see their disgust
It's just.....
If they don't know I am there
Then am I where?
Eff all they know why I am here
Nothing I fear more than what I ran from
So, finger to you, just hand me coins
And I will find a place to sleep
To keep me dry and warm
It's just.....
My mom, sometimes i could be in her arms
When I was me.
They use me and give me some bills
They throw me cigs and booze
I snooze part of the day away
And hope that I won't think
It's just
I feel that I will sink if no one
No one ever sees I'm here
...inspired by the Robert Earl Keen Jr song
'The Road Goes On Forever'
Flyin' high thru south west Texas
black Camaro's leakin' oil,
radiator needs attention,
sputterin', it starts to boil.
Up ahead a service station,
gotta get attention quick,
a fast mechanic and a twelve pack,
cigs and chew will do the trick.
Curt's his name, his disposition,
mean, and dangerous to boot,
he robbed a bank in Amarillo,
teller there he had to shoot.
He doesn't know the teller made it,
thinks he's headed for the Chair,
guns the Chevy, checks the rearview,
blows a tire and fits the spare.
Evenin' comes, it starts to rainin',
visibility is bad,
seven beers, he feels some comfort,
wildest time he's ever had!
Heading southward to the border,
up to speed, he's almost there,
no sign of lawmen in his mirror,
no restrictions anywhere.
North of Shafter there's a roadblock,
troopers out in full array,
he floors the pedal, doin' ninety,
they're not gonna block his way!
He slams a cruiser at full measure,
they are stationed full three deep,
a fiery heap of molten metal,
none to grieve and none to weep.
...inspired by the Robert Earl Keen Jr song
'The Road Goes On Forever'
Flying high thru south west Texas
black Camaro's leaking oil,
radiator needs attention,
sputtering, it starts to boil.
Up ahead a service station,
gotta get attention quick,
a fast mechanic and a twelve pack,
cigs and chew will do the trick.
Curt's his name, his disposition,
mean, and dangerous to boot,
he robbed a bank in Amarillo,
teller there he had to shoot.
He doesn't know the teller made it,
thinks he's headed for the Chair,
guns the Chevy, checks the rear view,
blows a tire and fits the spare.
Evening comes, it starts to raining,
visibility is bad,
seven beers, he feels some comfort,
wildest time he's ever had!
Heading southward to the border,
up to speed, he's almost there,
no sign of lawmen in his mirror,
no restrictions anywhere.
North of Shafter there's a roadblock,
troopers out in full array,
he floors the pedal, doing ninety,
they're not gonna block his way!
He slams a cruiser at full measure,
they are stationed full three deep,
a fiery heap of molten metal,
none to grieve and none to weep.
I went to get a pack of cigs
and found the store was out,
the manager said "grapes or figs?"
I responded with a pout.
"They're no longer de rigeur"
I was told with a sneer,
"can't sell them to you any more,
how about a six of beer?"
"But what about my nicotine?"
I ventured with a gasp,
"how will I stay lean and mean
if they're not within my grasp?"
"Sorry bud butt that's the deal,
no more cigs to satisfy your need,
but come back in a year or two
and then I'll sell you weed!"
Sight.
Sound.
Smell.
Taste.
The trains.
The tracks.
The rush, the haste.
The sweeties and toffees,
Newspapers and coffees,
Cases and bags, e-cigs and fags,
Pasty and tanned, iphone in hand,
The people who come and the people who go
And the Taxis that wait, as you cannot be late -
Spill out men in their ties, College kids in tie-dyes,
End of termers returning to their seat of learning,
The screeching of brakes and the slamming of doors,
From the ‘barely awakes’ and the ‘ready to go’s -
The good lucks and goodbyes, fears and tears in the eyes,
And the hugs that don’t end and the texts that they’ll send,
The lovers, the losers, the shakers and movers, the gap-year beginners and ‘nothing to prove’rs -
Step right into the mouth of the train as it stands, hoping this journey syncs with the ticket in hand -
To all points of the compass; South, West, East and North,
The disparate throng fast shuddering forth,
Frozen of face, their personal space.
Typical of the human race.
Lost in the crowd, all heads bowed.
Silent fears, screaming loud …..
Break out the ‘Hello’s -
And ban ‘Goodbye’
Journeys end
Hovers,
Nigh.
...inspired by the Robert Earl Keen Jr song
'The Road Goes On Forever'
Flying high thru south west Texas
black Camaro's leaking oil,
radiator needs attention,
sputtering, it starts to boil.
Up ahead a service station,
got to get attention quick,
a fast mechanic and a twelve pack,
cigs and chew will do the trick.
Curt's his name, his disposition,
mean, and dangerous to boot,
he robbed a bank in Amarillo,
teller there he had to shoot.
He doesn't know the teller made it,
thinks he's headed for the Chair,
guns the Chevy, checks the rear view,
blows a tire and fits the spare.
Evening comes, it starts to raining,
visibility is bad,
seven beers, he feels some comfort,
wildest time he's ever had!
Heading southward to the border,
up to speed, he's almost there,
no sign of lawmen in his mirror,
no restrictions anywhere.
North of Shafter there's a roadblock,
troopers out in full array,
he floors the pedal, doing ninety,
they're not gonna block his way!
He slams a cruiser at full measure,
they are stationed full three deep,
a fiery heap of molten metal,
none to grieve and none to weep.
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