Just pen and paper
To help escape from the troubles of yesterday.
Pen full, yet paper empty
Lighting a cigarette
Inhaling that menthol once more.
Exhaling
I watch my cloud of smoke fade
Just as my words fade from my head again.
Ashes fall on blank paper where words should be.
Pen full and paper still empty,
But maybe tomorrow
Words might stay.
MINT, my favourite herb, sharp yet sweet
Invigorating, cooling, balancing menthol beats
Nautical it tastes, flavouring salads or pasta neat
Tantalising sensation, delicious for bodily treats
My nail polish matches turquoise streak on the menthol cigarette.
My mood matches the greenish mint blue color of my cuticles.
My day going by as long as nail polish had to dry.
Memories
of Formica
kitchens
And 2-burner
Hotpoint
stoves
Lipstick on
a menthol
butt
Costume
pearls
in rows
Perfume
from the
five and dime
Drive In’s
on the
field
A promise
made
a promise kept
And
love
— that time can’t steal
(Listening To Patsy Cline: July 4th, 2025)
one look full of longing later
in the glow of electric lips
a brush with the unknown...
those were the French films of your youth
your concomitant struggles for love
rambling through the summer heat
gliding in the seaside breeze
down in the deep dead blue
to yearn, to be strangely stranded
among the widowed twin tides
in your sleepy demeanour
still craving your only true friends
white menthol cigarettes and
the angels of the abyss
so follow me in my steps
my unfaithful dreamer
together we’ll disappear
in the groves between the floorboards
He’s late-stage Charles Bukowski,
Hunching gnome-like over the bar,
With weary eyes, and scruffy stubble.
It’s sure he must have seen some trouble.
But he’s got plenty of cash in his pockets,
Along with the keys to a stolen car.
He smells of sea air, wet cement, and whiskey.
His tattoos could be urban graffiti,
Just random tags on ghetto limbs,
An ancient, coded treasure map
Charting landmarks through the route of his career.
He eyes a buxom tavern wench,
Who looks wholesome as a menthol cigarette,
And orders up another round for them all.
The Buccaneers’ Union provides him a generous pension.
He’s living his best life ever on a bounty of plundered loot.
Avast ye! Let’s drink to the golden years.
The refrigerator door opens,
the light illuminates the wine.
Still we just can’t seem to comprehend,
why we feel like crap all the time.
Don’t speak before our morning coffee,
just one more menthol cigarette.
Half a dozen donuts for breakfast,
and all the sugar we can get.
But we go to church every Sunday,
though we might nod off cause we’re bored.
So we can tell folks we’re Christians,
and follow the words of our Lord.
We can interpret the Bible,
make it say what we want it to.
Does it say always love your neighbor,
long as they think the same as you.
Old sleuth foot such a character
an old veteran
with one leg yet he still happy
~
Old Slew Foot with a gorilla chest
he smelled of menthol from his breath
Oh! slew foot was quite tall
he can stand on his one leg problem but never fall
~
Old Slew Foot was a Corporal in the army
on the battlefield he seen that so alarming
Oh! slew foot had a prosthetic
when he put it on he would walk run even dance he felt lit
not pathetic
~
Old Slew Foot walk the mile
he co-created a blessed child
Old Slew Foot was sleeping in a chair
because all he had left in him was one leg and a prayer
11/16/23
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr 2023
Is that the same habitual pain
The one I didn’t expect
To reappear once again
Like fume of menthol cigarette
I smoked ten thousand days ago
When snow was blooming lily-white
And withered leaves were whirling slow
Across the dimmed sunlight
I thought to make a worthy plan
Before the winter’s timelessness
It wasn’t superstitious then
More likely, a result of stress
It’s back, in luxury edition
Which is expanded overseas
Am I to live under suspicion?
I cannot bear all this.
I wake up in the morning,
with my joints all stiff and sore.
I reach for that magic tool,
I keep in the dresser drawer.
At first it starts to tingle,
I feel like a little kid.
Suddenly the heat kicks in,
now I feel like I once did.
Oh Biofreeze,
When I roll you on my skin.
your healing power begins,
and your warmth starts to sink in,
I’m ready for the world again.
My neck, shoulders, back, and thumbs,
I smear it on one and all.
Don’t care if I start to smell,
like a bottle of menthol.
One thing I must caution you,
this part you must understand.
Before you go take a whizz,
just make sure you wash your hands.
menthol cigarettes / messy journals / propane torches / unfinished poems /
broken promises / black bandana / clock rings /
thrift shops / candle wax / stolen books / peach nehi /
poison ivy / nicotine gum / ripped overalls /
leyland cypresses / junkyard blues / gutted cigarellos / abandoned houses /
tin foil flowers / gatorade / starburst / diabetic insulin syringes /
toy boats / vix vapor rub / red nose pitbull / lemon balm /
cutflowers / river stones / wooden crosses / cluttered bookstores /
broken pocket watches / bad behavior / birdsong / bantam chickens /
spare tires / cartoon band aids / unread voicemails / black ink /
ripped dollar bills / friendship bracelets / dirty laundry / vinyl /
chopped firewood / inferno / 70's model trucks / heart locket /
fave pen / soda slushies / free verse poetry / lana del rey / god jesus /
Hootin Bootin Shootin Tootin Smokin Lokin Caterpillar
Running around in the recesses of the darkened cellar
Taking long deadly drags from his menthol minded mary jane.
We cannot sing this song without a lively mootin grootin refrain.
When everyone wore Calvin Klein
I wore pairs of Old Navy jeans and graphic tees
When everyone carried a mouthful Menthol Cigarettes
I carried a mouthful of Sour Patch Kids
When everyone was having cups of Kalik
I was having cups of Pina Coladas
When everyone was rocking Air Jordans
I was rocking flip flops and Converse
When everyone went to Atlantis and Baha Mar
I went to Blue Lagoon and Ardastra Gardens
When everyone wanted to go to Miami
I wanted to go to Key West, Maui or Bora Bora
When everyone grew up to be a police
a teacher or a front desk clerk
I grew up to be a tour guide,
a beach nomad and a storyteller
Bernard has been begging
Bernard has been begging Lord God ‘Please’
For life of buffeting unease
Bernard’s lung’s finest sound an odd where,
He’d been trying all his life to ease:
Lots of menthol that should make him sneeze
And all over again taste sweet breeze…
Bernard has been dispatching his please,
God asking where he might him appease;
During Winter seeming he would freeze
Often no better than frozen cheese;
The countenance of White smeared with Grease
From head to toe captive for release…
Bernard plans not to stop Hoped-On Please
Not when one’s captor is Smiting Disease…
Poetry is a life-cherishing force. For poems are not words, after all, but fires for the cold, ropes let down to the lost, something as necessary as bread in the pockets of the hungry."
— Mary Oliver
Poetry is a life-cherishing force
Nourishing my mind and inmost soul
It's a therapeutic menthol caressing my pores
Every moment I read, my happiness roll
Each time I share my joy is an utmost pool
Poetry is a life-cherishing source
My unlimited reservoir of inspiration
Storage of wisdom for life-going-coarse
Quenching thirst of knowledge, no starvation
For life’s beauty... more on satisfaction, adoration
Poetry is my life-cherishing force
Restoring my strength, driving my power
Midst enervation from a long-day-course
Found enough refreshment on my diversion hour
Painting my life and thoughts flowing like a river
Nov. 23, 2022 9.25pm
Poetry is a life-cherishing force Contest
Contest Judged: 12/1/2022 9:51:00 AM
Sponsored by: Sotto Poet
Place; 3 (up to 4 multi-w)
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