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
Donna was a second-hand wife to Larry.
Larry always mentioned it to people.
At church, on the street, at a bar.
He thought it was hilarious!
“Slightly used,” he would say.
Then he would laugh a donkey bray laugh.
She asked him more than once to stop.
Told him she did not think it was funny.
Today he is a second-hand husband.
And his new wife is making the jokes.
Serenity found in the gentle pines, woodland hues
Breathless leaves, rustling softly, heartland muse
Amber and scarlet, fiery shadows, falling to earth
Caressing the light, creative touch, freehand muse
Sunlight shimmering, whispering in intimate truth
Flickering graceful imaginings, a dreamland muse
Risking the moment, silence embraces the spirit
Erasing all sorrow, this hope - a helping hand muse
Glorious prayers, psalms who wipe away the pain
Gifting joy that rises within, a promised land muse
Roaring to life, subtle desires, dancing with elation
Wonders so alive, they thrive on the unplanned muse
Reflections of beauty, inspiring the heart to listen
Truth in the form of a heartbeat, holy land muse
Autumn vibrates, vibrant as the echoing feelings
Blazing through September, the second hand muse
You sing the songs they have sung
You wear the suits they have worn
You follow the signs they have changed
You cheer the victories they have won
You love the lovers they have damped
You drown where they now float
I love to rummage through Op shops
Named Charity shops to some
I enjoy finding a bargain
Whether vintage, rustic, whatever….it’s fun!
I grew up poor having a single parent
So money was tight indeed
Being the youngest it was mainly hand me downs
Or a visit to the op shop to get what I need!
So, it is in my blood I do believe
My sisters and I all love a decent rummage
Finding treasures at bargain price
Enjoying sister fun and laughter while doing it!
Sometimes you get caught up in the moment
And buy just for the sake of it
Get home at look at your treasures
Thinking… why did I buy this s**t!!
Justifying it by saying “It’s for charity”
Telling myself once again to refrain
Until, I get a sister txt or call
It’s off to the op shops I go again….
The ticktack of the second-hand
Will never stop
1 day 60x60x24 seconds to go
But waiting for a minute
Sometimes can be a long long time to go
As the second-hand has to tick 60 times
But so soon our lives will come to an end
As depressions, frustrations and pressures
Will burn our lives even faster
Than the second-hand
Lord, it’s been a good chunk of time...
Been such a long time.
Time enough for me to know...
To know it so well.
Been without it too long...
Too long to take it.
And baby I need it...
And honey, you’ve got it.
And I need to have it...
So you need to share it.
Just send a little bit my way.
Lord, it’s been a mighty long time...
Sentenced to hard time.
Time to have to go without...
To struggle without it.
My need is so strong...
It’s stone-busting strong.
You know I crave it so bad...
So bad it’s sinful.
And it hurts me so good...
And you’ve got the goodies.
I just need to have it...
You need to breath it.
Just blow it on along my way.
I need your second-hand smoke...
Second-hand smoke.
I need thy kingdom to come...
Not nicotine gum.
In through the nose,
Out through the mouth...
I need your second-hand smoke.
Taking the stick to hand
Warning every second the world
The second hand,clock!
Why!
It was a picture I had seen in an old magazine on a rack
in the second hand store. The magazine felt brittle and
smelled musty but the picture held my eyes captive.
A group of Jewish women (or so I suspect) in black
and white stripes. Stitched on, was a faded yellow star.
Each one alike; each one with ashen heads cast down;
bewildered and standing in frozen snow.
I didn't know them
yet-
I knew them.
eyes crying out to me
and asking why.
second hand
petty
misunderstandings
passed down
through
misconceptions
that had
been
learned
through
sublimation
tough by
messages
flashed upon
the screen
Iron lung life isn’t so bad
But I most admit, I’m a little bit mad
All those nights in the bars just a chok’in
To hell with this second hand smok’in
Now, I wish I had enjoyed just a drag
Marlboro, Winston, in England they’re Fags
Not one little puff have I ever tried
But thanks to second hand smoke
My lungs have been fried
Iron lung life isn’t so bad
Maybe I’m cool
It’s the upcoming fad
It’s not the knowledge you have it’s the knowledge you with draw from,
To breath in the carbon dioxide and platinum I must add is not saine,
To know that a disease can spread with ever puff or give,
Why not question the decision that it effect others of,
Second hand smoke,
As well as that pollution ozone layer,
In some country the atmosphere of pollution is so bad,
They have wear mask just make it from one location to the next,
And if your father was chain smoker the DNA and change of the child,
Will smoke is already in there blood,
Second hand smoke,
It’s not the knowledge you have it’s the knowledge you with draw from.
How much affect is second-hand,
used to mime a mood,
impersonate a man?
2004 Fall
Second-Hand
By Laura
June 16, 2016
Let me tell you about this great, great feeling
Three decades late and I'm tired of waiting
To know there is a piece that I've been missing
Cause there's no price for this diamond ring
Every day like today when i'm I'm low
I pick a corner to forget all the lies I know
Tuck them in a lonely place in my heart
Cause I, keep the scars and rip my mind apart
I'm losing these feelings in a cold, white room
I'll stay for days and rearrange my tomb
Shut out all the wandering eyes inside the lines
Remember there's a place where what is yours is mine
I'm sorry dear, can't you feel my crazy?
And here you thought the haze was making me lazy
We made it outside today, and it made me say
Holy **** it's such a wonferful day
She packed her bags one day
Left me in the dark
Running away, what a lark
I stare at the walls; life seems so bleak and stark
I wrote her love letters
Only a thousand or two
The poor old postman
Carrying them all back to my door
Return to sender was the obvious score
So I took my pen and wrote a few more
Before dousing my desires
In the illusions of folklore
Where out of the forest
On a mist filled dawn
Returned my princess
Singing our song
Alas I walk along lonely forest paths
I dream and ponder of what might have been
I look up to the heavens and demand, what was my sin?
That I am alone, surrounded in deathly silence
A second hand man
Waiting
For a second hand rose
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