Long Cigarette Poems
Long Cigarette Poems. Below are the most popular long Cigarette by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Cigarette poems by poem length and keyword.
Not enough
or
to many drinks
and
to many cigarettes
For so many demons to exorcise
With only 1 set of lungs
And only 1 liver
To leech the poison
from my past
Until i ever so succinctly countless times recite
this prayer of which i dream
Before my eye's close and will is broken
and i eventually pass out
If i die before i wake
I wish the lord my soul to take
But why again would he ?
If he has forsaken such in this life so far ?
Only to awake to dawn approaching
Freshly drenched with rain falling from
a cold and grey unwelcoming sky
Towing today's nightmare right behind it
express delivery
For i to think when the clouds and
mist lift and clarity fleeting returns for
a matter of seconds
I did this to me no 1 else but on which
myself to place blame
This is 1 of life's travestys not a shame
Surely there is a family or some poor
soul out there far more deserving or
would put to use the internal organs
i am killing slowly to hide my pain
But hey that's life i suppose ?
We only value it when it's confirmed our
time itself is running out
Then i suppose we all inauspiciously
start to care and profess we will miss everything
So i suppose at the end of the day regarding said death
the only question left worthy of asking is this ?
Where i go to when i did do they have or must
i bring my own Booze & Cigarettes ????
Depression times – no one went out
To theatres, concerts, movie shows –
They had friends in or went to their homes.
The whole country was more than broke.
There was always drinking at the parties
And a low-lying cloud of cigarette smoke.
I didn’t like the parties my parents had.
They were too loud, too over the top!
Sitting at the top of the stairs I watched.
People danced or sat on each other’s laps
And smoked and drank and sometimes smooched.
Apparently liquor was cheap and available.
Sometimes it got rowdy after a while
When everyone had a bit too much to drink.
Sometimes my mother passed out, and friends
Would laugh and lay her on the couch.
Later, there would be fights between my parents
And threats of one or the other leaving.
I didn’t – couldn’t – understand the times –
That people had to let their hair down,
Let go of the tensions of their everyday lives
And that sometimes they went too far.
By turns I was scared, anxious, embarrassed
And mortified for my parents.
Once, when I was a little older, I came downstairs
And made a scene about the drinking.
My parents sent me off to bed with a sound
Scolding about being rude and obnoxious.
For many, many years, far into adulthood,
I would not drink, would not have liquor
In the house for anyone else to drink.
I still have difficulty dealing with
Anyone who overindulges in alcohol.
Childhood experiences leave us with unseen scars.
When one feels one’s life is out of one’s control,
That becomes a permanent fear, and control
Becomes obsessively important.
My parents weathered those years,
And the ones that followed.
They were married for fifty years,
And I married and have my own family.
But I still find I want to be sure I have
Everything in my life under control.
That’s one reason I still drink very little.
Dog’s crew is following him out the Bounty Hunter Office Door
Where his beloved Beth resides no more
They follow him into houses, apartments, culverts and ditches.
When they come for you, I wonder if your sixth sense itches?
Dog says “GO!” and they chase their man down.
After handcuffing, Dog talks to him, on the way to town.
He calls him “Brother,” and gives him a cigarette too.
They usually end up respecting him when their time together is through.
Dog’s crew is his sons, his friends, his nephew, his daughter, Michelle.
They will chase a man down for days, a woman sometimes as well.
It is a company business, and everyone on Hawaii who is hooked on Ice,
Looks over their shoulder for the cops, and Dog with his sage advice.
The show is spectacular, it keeps me riveted to my seat.
If I was in Hawaii Dog the Bounty Hunter I would have to meet!
However, it would have to be under the right circumstances of course.
Dog and his crew are such a formidable, determined, driving force!
Sweet silence!
late in life
I discover earplugs
my wife’s pastel plugs
that fill the ear canal
by compressing for insertion
and expanding once in place
One mauve one sepia
no lawnmowers, no leafblowers
wood chippers or persistent phoebes
water to the thirsty traveler
morphine to the cancer
better than knee surgery
or a negotiated end to the war
Such silence is so sweet
I might try blindness too
like Homer, Borges, Milton
just kidding, should there be a god listening
the veil of life is thin
if one doesn’t believe in mystery
or accepts the rules entirely
One green one brown
two leaves sleep-touching
then a breeze!
the day I left life behind
hitchhiking as the sun descends
morning air cold and clear
I cannot hear what I cannot see
The freedom of summer gone
one more season (and one more after that)
he lived with one eye after that
in a mind there is apocalypse
no one can hear it
but one day you die
and this is the ideal silence you sought
Silence of winter
one elk in aspen
mountains of dark sound
and a stream’s breath song
cities make a silent distant din
with simple joy men may give up desiring to be heard
how much tinnitus can you handle
Graceful as silence
sailing through the ferns and understory
why make a sound or noise or do anything to the page
the national debate
garrulous, querulous
the sound of shoulders shrugging
speech, none, you can’t sum it up in one more metaphor
Censor crop shorten and silence
no tv!, no self-pity
first light, green tea
no sound but wind
yet the sound still comes out of the flowers
smoke the cigarette, sound the subwoofer
and prepare for a powerful anesthesia
I remember the film of my father's cigarette
sepia fingers caressing my youthful cheek
with eyes that never lost their loving light
The way his hands lovingly built up a crib,
for a sister to imbibe ...
Today, I kiss gray and beg for another day
for I have children of my own who need
a temporary mask, a prayer or two...
The way the sun slanted out this morning
reminded me of how vulnerable we are
I tell you my story with eyes full of light
hoping you'll remember your father too
This is a moment framed in my mind,
a youthful peek, that is re-assigned...
Tomorrow isn't an un-promised sleuth,
today, (pause) today its already here,
so make the best of it, have no fear...
Mystic Rose
"If I knew...Because I heard this song, I'm in tears. For no reason."
"It's not for nothing, it just makes me also."
"By the way, not long ago, a sick black young man was assaulted by the same black cops. The black cops were not black. They must have killed more brutally than the other races. No doubt...When I passed by too, looking at all of my race, I think there are times when I hate them more than any other people and I am ignoring. Hatred doesn't come from skin color or any external heterogeneity. It seems that homogeneity cannot prevent it. It exists deeper than ethnic characteristics or sharing. I also thought that it comes from the hidden consciousness of (original sin) in humans. How to deal with that? It is an important responsibility for artists... It seems that what we see and what we have is not everything. (A pig satisfied and dissatisfied Socrates)"
"Because the animal called human is ultimately too fragile, it seems that in addition to friendly feelings for people of the same kind as them, the opposite tendencies are just as great...I think humans are the most insignificant creatures.."
"It does. Whether it is misfortune or happiness to know that... I'm going to eat dried Pollack soup now. I hope you too have a pleasant dinner time. Goodbye, my president, my bulletin board."
"Whatever it is, having dinner with warm dried pollack soup is happiness."
"What are you eating at evening, Chairman?"
"I don't know yet. Either way, this should make for a happy hour."
"..... If you're next to me, I could go to a bakery together. I often go to the Bakery... I remember going to a bakery 40 years ago and each of us ate a donas, a twist, a fish cake, and a cigarette for my bad friends."
"laughing......."
"Maybe the bakery owner loved us then. Because he kicked us out to go to school."
What would you do
if you turned a new page
on the past,
and it begins rewriting
that moment?
What would you think
if yesterday’s song of victory
is suddenly replaced
by emotional cries
and vulnerability?
I slid down the pavement of history,
where the marks of freedom disappear
into the cyclone of neo-colonialism,
and I hear only one word:
“Our land is poor.”
I hear other voices telling their people
to dig through my spine
because I am rich from the inside.
My people shout and brag about the weather
and the riches I possess,
yet they are blinded by the beauty
of others.
None of them wants to use my wealth;
they exchange it for a handshake
and a single stick of cigarette,
followed by a disguised smile
wrapped in jealousy
on the foreigner’s face.
I left my level and climbed the mountain
back to the foot.
I placed a mirror before me
and saw a black, shining reflection.
Maybe this is why I am Africa,
or perhaps it is the reason
my people admire others so much—
the reason I am being sold away.
Every people must love and protect
their own,
but my people’s love and protection come
only when I am beaten and outsmarted
by others.
They do not value the tears
that run from Lake Victoria
to the foreign lands
of the Mediterranean Sea.
I cry for the life of my people.
There I was as white as a sheet,
the alcohol was working ,I could not feel my feet.
The bus was out of the question, taxi too.
Walking was the answer,if only I knew.
The rain was splashing against my face,
my glasses steamed up I hurried my pace.
M y head was buzzing,my stomach numb.
Why oh why was I so dumb.
I had only wanted a drink or two.
My problem I cant say no.
All or nothing,the only way to go.
As i smoked the third cigarette,the effects were under way.
My eyes were looking but not at you,
I was a million miles away.
The fourth drink was gone number five to.
All the way the only way I know..
So here I am staggering alone.
a couple more kilometers, and I will be home,
as I look to cross the road,
all is clear over I go.
Wait stop!:
I look with eyes of dread,
a v.w golf has hit my leg.
I look up give the o.k.
then bells started ringing in my head.
This road is one way.
too late I say,he is off at least I am o.k.
So here I am in the safety of home.
I made it all alone
I lay my weary head on the bed.
All or nothing the only way to be.
Once a year is enough for me.
Change is indefinite
Yet unexpendable we remain
Cigarette ashes
A warm pot of coffee
What more is there to sustain
Days are random
Life is detailed, severely
Like old men on faltering days
These are the things you ask of me
Like child hood friends
Remember me?
This is the most I can do for you
Like the rain that pours
May never touch the same place twice
Then again, there is that possibility
The reality of this state of being
Nothing is all that it will ever be
And sometimes you learn to look at things
As if they are to get no better
Like single mothers on the first days of January
A hymn for the things you’d love to change
A prayer for the things you cannot
"acceptance of what we cannot change"
I remember beautiful and the way she felt
Her fast escape routes, her youthful mess
The summer winks that meant nothing at all
and the cigarette fingers of kin 's brawl
Mothers far away scent, her no recall
the holler of passers by and the years
when a love first burned with morning tears
I remember beautiful oh how I remember
the suitors that tried the ones I despised
The plastic covered couch my shaming slouch
Her velvet coats and her fur hats....
I played every dime on the jukebox of life
and watched the brook long after his deep freeze
I recall, that long ago summer
The empty bed, the hours of grief
and that banging in my head (pause) lead?
I remember beautiful and the day he said to me
"Sis, lets go this way "
His smile was so big it broke the sun
after he died, nothing was ever the same again.
06/06/2918