Long Nicotine Poems
Long Nicotine Poems. Below are the most popular long Nicotine by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Nicotine poems by poem length and keyword.
Blank stares and wide open spaces
wrinkled lines on work-worn faces
Sleep deprived on overload
wide awake in bed alone.
A thousand miles between us still
The worries and stress are real
The pavement clanks on old, worn tires
burning diesel in the midnight hours.
Months feel like years in a flash,
Home for a few days, that doesn't even last.
The life of a trucker and his wife
It isn't an ordinary kind of life.
Phone calls can often make you smile,
especially when it's been a while.
You often wonder if he's doing okay
That kind of nausea that seems to stay.
He tries to keep your worries few,
But he knows that you are you.
You keep the home the best you can
But you still miss your best friend.
He works harder than most you know
Caffeine and nicotine keep him on the go.
It's not an easy life for love and self,
but it pays the bills, if not much else.
You must have that one kindred soul,
There's nowhere else they would go
A love built on tougher ground
When heartache seems to abound.
All those lonely days and nights,
missed times and little fights
It all ceases to exist
When he holds you close and plants that kiss.
His arms are a familiar space,
How long have you missed his face?
It rushes back in a fluttering breeze,
setting your whole world at ease.
That is when you know it's love,
sent from the one above.
That's how you know it's real,
No bounds of time, his arms can't heal.
*LIFE, WHAT A RUSH*
Silence needs to be spoken and put out like a cigarette
The joy - the laughter - the expression found in a silhouette
Inhale the wholesomeness - Exhale the worthiness.
The soul- addicted to all the toxins this world contains
Life is like nicotine circulating throughout your veins
Wrath is a venom that absorbs all the fumes that flow
Trigger the mind and you'll see smoke blow
Hope entwined with clouds of wisdom
Tobacco strangling every inch of the nerve system
Vapors exceed emotions, love and veneration
Smog proceeds in slow motion
Puffing the beauty, by draining the heart and mind
Filtering all the nicotine bad breath left behind
~*~
Ocher and quince wads
pack gaps in particleboard walls.
Yellow newspapers underlay linoleum.
The apartment is smeared by nicotine
When it rains, a paper-Mache atlas of a blotched sky
can be read on the ceiling.
The window-sill slants, he dares not lean out.
He listens to street fights; imagines gore
seeping into inky basement wells.
Saturday nights bleed into Sunday. Sometime
amid the gray hours he decides to leave,
to wander vomit blitzed alleys
to search a doorstep and steal a Sunday paper,
then he returns to the grimy room
to read of better places
where better crimes get clean away.
He has a girlfriend, one he sees only once a week,
they sit on the narrow bed reading the news.
She tells him that her apartment has thin walls,
that at night strangers scratch upon them
as if writing to her.
Finally He lands a job in a hotel as a night porter.
His allotted room is pure white and sterile,
more a cell than a living space.
If he puts the light on, all that white hurts his eyes,
in time he gets used to it. His mind slowly
sheds layers of brick-dust and smudged print.
Born into poverty , unholy society , sobriety the key to my life savings.
Daddy can't put the cider down ,Mama smoking that nicotine like her life depends on it.
She left with a man twice the age of granny never to be seen again and the result was a fat belly.
He quit school thinking he was cool, oh what a fool!
Stormy weather , the boat started shaking , sank six feet deep only to be revived by the divine love from above.
Took the right turn and it was my turn.
Built a legacy big enough , the next generation of my tribe will never starve that was hard work , dedication , understanding life and it's fluctuations and realized perfections is a pigment of humanity' s imagination. It is okay to cry for laughter awaits on the corner.
Macadamized by politics . Choked by sin tax and hated for standing out, well...l kept calm and meditated . Never giving up , now a warrior in the face of injustice.
Born into poverty , buried in silver and gold. Crawled into Asha , walked with tenacity in my adolescent pocket. Grown into diamonds ,the pressure , the realization of dreams and the utilization of time.
Raised by faith. lucifer you lost! Victory is ours.
Triumphant!
My Stuff
Had some friends
Advise me to go
Said I been acting strange
Past week or so
First I declined
But then, I said alright
Signed into the group
For councelling night
This be my story
Of what I seen there
The faces of dismay
Eyes with blank stare
On every table
A box of tissues
For no real resolve
Of people's issues
Heads turned my way
As a man called on me
I had rehearsed already
What my words would be
From the chair I stood
Stated my name
Introducing myself
The reason I came
Voice solid
Straight to the point
I'm not into drugs
Nor hooked on a joint
It isn't the bottle
Or nicotine
But I am an addict
The worst you've seen
I had their attention
And so I sat down
Continued my speech
All intently bound
It's not depression
Getting to me
But I need my stuff
Or I'll go crazy
This isn't a story
Of a love gone bad
But if history you want
Now that I've had
When my hands get shaky
And break in a sweat
It not from gambling
Or placing a bet
I am an addict
No worse will you see
I need my Yeshua
I bet that sounds crazy
Ain't no cure
For what I got
Ain't no pill
Ain't no shot
So there it is
I was asked to leave
The condition I had
Nobody believed
Hey, that's cool
I'll find the door
For I neither the need
To look back any more
Cause there ain't no cure
For what I've got
Not a pill
Not a shot
I'm just an addict
The worst you've seen
Cause I need my Yeshua
If you know what I mean
There are gaps in the particleboard;
quince wads fill the breaches.
Nicotine newspapers underlay the linoleum.
It's a rented place, he tiptoes
around its yellow layers.
He has a friend he visits on Sunday afternoons.
The walls of her bedsit are paper thin.
She thinks her neighbors scratch on them,
thinks they are writing to her.
She will stand in front of him naked,
eyes closed while she masturbates.
She wants him to watch her.
She's deathly frightened people will overhear.
Afterward, they sit side by side
on the small bed reading the tabloids.
Then they walk to a local pub,
sit quietly in a corner, not talking
holding hands until closing time.
One day her bedsit is empty,
she has gone, leaving no note.
On the other side of the city
he lands a job with a room in a hotel.
His new room is narrow, clean and white.
The silence that envelops,
Only when peaceful,
When my heart is full enough to sleep,
Filled with the newest memories.
They are sported like new technology,
Not so limited, but loved and invested.
And I do not even dwell if I am loved because it is known.
I love them, and the word,
Love,
Is not used flippantly like those around me.
It is purer than life itself,
And it travels across my body,
Intravenous in the way is swallows me whole.
And there is no word known better to describe my obsession.
Who cares if I may see them everyday,
That their names will always remain on my mind,
All I care is that my heart still beats enough
To see them everyday.
Their laughs, hugs, nervous touches, smiles,
Gazes and dependency, it drives my heart as if
It were laced with nicotine.
Because they make me smile,
Among little in the world that is happy,
They are like pre-made lunches and fresh carnations,
Like sunflowers and washed clothes,
So clean and genuine.
Things I would have taken for granted,
I now cherish every second, because I love them.
Quince wads pack gaps in particleboard.
Yellow newspapers underlay linoleum.
The apartment is a nicotine
an atlas of a blotched sky
can be read on the ceiling.
He has a friend that he visits once a week;
she will stand in front of him to masturbate.
Her apartment walls are paper thin. She tells him
that at night her neighbors scratch on them;
she thinks they are writing to her.
Later they go out to a small pub,
sit quietly in a corner
holding hands until closing time.
One day she is not there.
He scans the headlines, obituary columns,
the classified ads --- there is no news.
Weeks pass. Her parents live in Surrey,
he can't find them in the phone book.
He stops looking for the lost.
Each morning when I wake up
I turn on my coffee pot
Then I go out to have a smoke
While my coffee is still hot
Each morning I say to myself
I'll throw that cancer stick away
But for some reason I keep smoking
As I go about my day
But today I'm going to try again
And really try to quit
Before it gets too late
And my body becomes unfit
So keep me in your prayers
And say a prayer for me
Then perhaps tomorrow morning
I'll wake up and I'll be free
From all that effin nicotine
That has controlled me all these years
Before it takes my life away
And brings my loved ones dripping tears
So I ask of you my friends
Who still wake up each day and smoke
If you'll try to quit with me
Because this ain't no effin joke
Then maybe tomorrow morning
We'll all begin to see the sun
And we'll live a little longer
For the sake of everyone
Wake up fresh in the morning, free from daytime's infections
Splash a pot of coffee on your pristine complexion
Rev up your car's engine: Send a cloud of smoke into the air
Motor off to work: Emit toxic pollutants over the road everywhere
Sprint to your desk: Turn on the computers, the a/c and the lights
Ratchet up enough current to frazzle countless insects and mites
At break, leave the office: Enjoy a quick smoke
Then smell your clothes -- a tar-and-nicotine cloak
Back at your desk, sweat pours down your body
Mingled with the smell of your cloak, you're off to the potty
Where you befoul the toilet, the hallway and office
With tincture of excrement, exotic odor so nauseous ...
**********
Now this poem's not going to sink, burn or crash
Here's how to remove gobs of rubbish and trash
Step into the shower at the close of each day
Turn on the water full-throttle: Blast those germs away
Let the welcome droplets cascade down your head, face and arms
Wash the stench away with H2O's charms