Long Smokers Poems
Long Smokers Poems. Below are the most popular long Smokers by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Smokers poems by poem length and keyword.
Cigarette Smokers
In a world tainted by pollution and smog you're adding to the problem
Please don't think for a second that electric cigarettes will solve them
Cigarettes wouldn't be half bad if they just took the smoker out
It isn't fair that it kills those who wouldn't put one to their mouth
Parents smoke but would brake out in a rage if their children tried
What if each pack kept up with the growing number who died
Each smoker fails to realize what they smell and look like
The x-rays of their lungs to the doctors must be a horrible sight
They should ask themselves if this nasty habit is worth dying over
Are they recognizing with each puff their calling death much closer
What ingredients makes up the tobacco anyway
I heard rat poison makes up some of it so is that ok
Who's worse, neighborhood drug dealers or the tobacco company
They both make money from the lives they take if you're asking me
I'm coughing out in rhythm
As I draw in more lushest smoke
Ain't never done me any good
But the Marlboro Mans got my vote
Two packs a day at minimum
I see no use in quitting
Though the way I wheeze in the morning time
There ain't much use in living
The doctors give their warning
My lungs are tarred and blackened
The only thing I see I'm missing
Is the free breathing that I'm lacking
So leave me be to my greatest need
We all know what that is
Carcinogens and nicotine
Are two of my favorite hits
They say smoking wont send you to hell
It just makes you smell like you've been there
And to a smoker that's just as well
In hell you'll never need a lighter
So the doctor's can warn me all they want
If they feel they must
But I ain't leaving outta here
Until that very last lushest puff...
I'm not a smoker myself...
This is just something I thought all you smokers would enjoy...
So everyone light up, inhale, draw deep, exhale, Ahhhhhhh......
So it’s been an average day
Nothing good, some bad
Is that what we salvages say?
Officer pulls me over at the Kangaroo
Says our tail lights out, wants to search the car
Well do what you choose
Officer’s asking for death
So things aren’t going well
Given no warrant, how long will I hold my composure?
Only time will tell
Will my violent thoughts lay cold in exposure?
Officer, again, pulls me over 2 miles down the road
Maybe this time I’ll take off a load
Shines his light in my window,
just in front of smokers paradise
Obviously these provokers don’t care about life
Officer’s asking for death
So the past ten minutes ain’t been chillin
I used to be a server, I did the clean dealing
Waiting tables ain’t but a legal way of hustling
It’s just another day, no fussing
So at a stop sign we stop, take this right on campus
And what do you know, more blue lights
How funny the boys in blue decided to stamp us
Says our license plate was out
Sworn citizens holding true lies
what more is this about?
Officer’s asking for death
This is a non-smoking area
Lizards keep out
Smoking is bad for your health
Long tongues and swerving bodies are not welcome
Cold blooded creatures beware
Strike matches elsewhere, (California has sanctuary zones)
Surgeon generals are lined up against you
To decapitate your kind, decaffeinate your sodas
Next on the list are turtles and frogs
Fat reptiles are not permitted in NY City
Smokers will be executed then put on trial
Liberals are coming after you
They love endangered species
Ash trays are ornamental
Kept in museums next to dinosaurs
It was not asteroids that killed the ancient lizards
Butt cigarettes without filters
Let's all celebrate
Motivate and innovate
Let's all have incredible fun
The one that will last more than a lifetime
Every four years, it is that time
Again and again, let's us sprint, jump, run
Like happy rabbits, like flying cheetahs
Let's us enjoy all sports and the hoopla
Let's witness and win the gold medals
Many records will be broken
It is about doing our best and to have fun
Let's bring the torch, the flowers and the petals
Let's bring the doves, the love and the sandals
These are the Olympics, let's unite forever
And laugh all the way to the river
The bikers are coming, the rowers are here
Let's have the party of the century
Let's watch the volleyball players
Invite the drunkards and the smokers
Who are already sadly out of breath
Let's pray that they don't see an early death
Let's win the medals
And decorate the stadiums with lights and petals
May the world remain beautiful
Where there are no weak losers, only strong winners
May the world remain peaceful and wonderful
Where there are no lousy losers, only lovely winners.
Copyright © July 2012, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several books of poetry.
It's the resolution graveyard
for those good intentions, cursed,
opening hours from New year's day
to February first.
Here's a pile of treadmills,
dumbbells stacked up near the gate,
abandoned by the desperate
who promised to lose weight.
The hungover who'd had enough,
repenting for their sins
have left wine bottles by the ton
in bright blue wheelie bins.
The smell of chocolate, biscuits, cake
they permeate the air,
left by those stood on bathroom scales
who said life wasn't fair.
Invisible unless up close,
hidden by a yellow fug,
the cigarettes thrown in the bin
from smokers, feeling smug.
The gravedigger, like Santa,
only toils here once a year,
and tirelessly he works his spade
until all have disappeared.
His shovel cleaned, oiled, put away
and ready for next time
when the graveyard gates squeak open wide
upon the New year chimes.
No mourners toss handfuls of dirt,
no eyes are wiped in sorrow,
since all of us are well aware
the diet starts tomorrow.
the unzipped match —
a flame that heats the tips of fingers,
those sensitive appendages
that linger,
upon the cheek,
the whiskers.
erogenous zones touched by the flame,
like candles arouse
compatible birthday suits.
the cherry red matchstick
plumps up her lips
making them magnetic.
his lips and ruby tongue
pulled into
the black hole of her being.
their own haven of forest
in flames —
no longer tame.
the full force of desire
moves over her neck
her shoulders,
lower and lower,
leaping higher and higher.
flesh singed —
in the end both become smokers
in bed.
9/25/2019
When I entered this pub,
Everything was messy,
Ladies here appeared ill mannered
And their faces old for the job.
Painted in make ups,
Shorts skirts with slits,
Exposing bleached thighs
I pitied with men here,
Spending all their fortune
The music was loud
And the smoke was choking
I said to myself,
"Not more than one glass"
Suddenly, I have lost count,
Not only of glasses, but bottles,
And money to spend
My new language-
"Waiter, one more! "
I think I am Drunk.
Suddenly, all girls are young,
Their skin is tender,
And their moves seductive.
I suddenly, love their dressing
Now they are all beautiful.
I think I am Drunk.
Suddenly, I call on the DJ:
"DJ, increase the volume! "
And to the crowd of smokers,
I shout, "Puff it out! "
I think I am drunk.
Suddenly, I feel so rich,
I move from table to table
ordering waiters to add more drinks.
And when they hail me,
I throw cash at them.
I think I am drunk.
I've Drunk my all
And people have Drunk too
On my bill
I've lost my way,
I've lost my all
And my mind too
I think I am Drunk.
As I want to leave,
I face the barman,
My phone, jacket and car keys
held in custody —
Until I pay the debt.
The detritus of a household of smokers was a joy to the young child, stifled in a family he believed he had outgrown. Matchsticks, by the score, he used to build magical castles with towers to climb or Spanish Galleons to sail away to places far. A live match found was a rare treasure, a pregnant opportunity to destroy--a secret power. The best were the small cardboard matchboxes with their slide-out tray, which he arranged like a chest of a hundred tiny drawers. Each drawer contained a precious item, a pebble, a penny, a bloodstained band-aid, a tooth, four-leafed clover, a tear-stained note, a lock of hair. . .
weaving
a smaller web
spider in a box
Like A Child Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Regina McIntosh
Date wrote: 4th July 2022
At the kitchen table
Eating all the gravy
This gets complicated and messy
Cornbread and turkey
Ham and chicken
Grand man chosen
Is beholden smorgasbord
Stop eating
Look at these dishes
Everyone's eating who's going to clean all these
Dirty dishes
Papa smoking a pipe
Reading a newspaper
Trying to understand all the hype
yeah all the hype
While still at the kitchen table
People still greasing their faces
Overeating diabetics
Pork and Italian sausages
and fat back and slime
And all that
No one's taking time
To just get one more plate
At the kitchen table
Eating all the biscuits gravy
Cornbread ham and turkey
Grand man chosen
is beholden
Smokers board
Stop eating look at those dishes
Everyone's eating who's going to clean
All these Dirty Dishes
4/27/15
Written words by Ja'Maz Semaj Drawer Rseel ©2015, 2020
From anthology "UNCKLE JA'MAZ"