Short Fags Poems

Poetry’s 
For fags
For truants
And miscreants
And yes CS
Even you
Now I know 
It’s not true
With 40,000 views...

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There once was a girl called Marie
She worked at One Stop for free
She would pack up your bags
Sell u some fags
Yet her gob was as loud as can be!...

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There was an old stripper called Jacky,
who's act was deemed rather tacky.
But she got her comeuppance 
when, out of her tuppence,
fell six pipes, fifty fags and some baccy....

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The flaming pyre
And tortured screams;
Regrets and curses
And broken dreams.

The piles of gold,
With fags* and booze;
The lust and orgies: 
So much to choose…

*cigarettes

For PD’s To Hell and Back contest...

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Once there was a man called Kingston lovemad
 to get things his way executes a strategy. no mad!
fags chain, bangs table, wall 
and what not! Shouts all,
bloody this “mad man strategy” often yields. Love mad!...

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Sittting at a bus stop, noticed a guy rummaging
 through the odds and ends of unfinished fags atop the bin
Stood up and offered half of my fags to him
Not because his need was greater
but because our needs should be the same...

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How strange it is, I think, that message brought
should bring no thing but strife and ignorance.
When Christ did speak, he spoke of love and peace,
but now, his words, among the masses, twist
and turn to "God hates fags" and loveless thoughts....

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I'm an addict!
I have been for years.
Dying from it
is one of my fears.
The thing that I mostly hate,
is feeling my health
deteriorate.
The nicotine stains
and ashtray breath,
bring me ever closer
to death.
On my death bed
I'll probably say...
Pass me my fags
and an ashtray....

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If you are gay it's quite very clear
That sometimes you'll queer if the same sex is here.

But don't get any fags...they're bad for your health.
Homosexuality has nothing to do with sickness, so go on help yourself!












(play on words gay: happy, queer: weird, fags for the English means cigarettes
 let yourself out of the closet! be strong and do not hide)...

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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...

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“You’re a foot fairy” they say to me.
“You’re a band geek” they mock at me.
“You’re a Jesus freak” they bash on me.

What can I do to gain their love? 
Hatred toward everything I do! 
When will this pass? 
High school needs to die.

“Poetry is for fags” they tell me.
“Man whore” they call me.
“Nerd” they laugh at me.

Why do they do this? 
Discrimination flowing through their blood.
What will stop them? 
High school needs to die....

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Before I begin my muse
Tell me how could you use
The love I always choose
Want me to blow my fuse?

Beauty from my hidden bag
My magic wand loves to tag
Dazes me to walk always lags
Let these humans..? what fags.

Hold still as I slide on your back
In smoothness as perfume track 
Breezy, trusses skating as a sack
Blundering fools I hate to smack

Wonder a while you thieving packs
I am that great living elf don’t whack....

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Furtive meeting

We sat in the park a packet of fags
a bottle of wine, on the back of a napkin
I wrote her a poem about love.

While struggling to find the right word
I hardly knew her, she fell asleep,
wine of good quality can be strong.

I counted my cigarettes had five left
saw the tempting light of a night bar
left her sleeping, went and had a drink.

Coming back, she had left my poem
written on the clean side of a napkin
was on the ground torn to shreds....

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