Do you exist just to survive
or would you like to make decisions
to help your body thrive
Five years of endurance from the age of ten
nightly menu of mashed potato, cold roast meat
no greens no fruit,nothing else, if you didn't like the food it was hunger
There was not another thing to eat
Daily morning breakfast, nutritionally no better
a bowl of corn flakes and a cup of tea
Consumed in a household of two smokers
good health could never hope to be
Many coughs, colds, tired
and aching in the ears
Life a daily challenge
full of many fears
Boils upon the legs the head
often near the nose
Fatigue, fall asleep in class
a life of daily woes
Adversity has a purpose
it makes us stronger or we fall
Decisions to be made
when our backs are to the wall
And the decision that was made fifty years ago
turned his life around
Modified his eating patterns
the old days had now run aground
In his house there are no smokers
a large variety of orqanic greens, nuts and fruits
His exceptional state of well being reflects
the selection of his culinary pursuits
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
Stop! I can't breathe, you have me caught,
Darth Vader's grasp, a battle I never sought.
My lungs are squeezing, a vice made of despair,
Suffocating whispers in a toxic air.
Why should I suffer, why should I choke,
Paying for the habits of your smoky cloak?
Each breath a struggle, each moment a crime,
I glimpse my tomb long before my time.
Stop! I can't breathe, you’re shrouded in mist,
Your addiction’s embrace, an unforgiving twist.
When I was younger, I had no choice,
A silent witness, with my muffled voice.
Do you know that your clouds seek me out?
No matter the distance, there's no escaping doubt.
With each exhale, I feel my spirit wane,
Your pleasure is killing me, feeding the pain.
So please, just stop it, can’t you see it too?
You’re wrapped in a vice, and it’s choking you.
Together we’re lost in this pit of despair,
Let’s fight through the darkness, let’s breathe in fresh air.
What could they be all about?
I'd tell you: For what we'd scout,
When our passions for them shout.
What groups cannot do without;
Once one neglects each a flout...
Cash crop farms say fertile lands,
The Builder Mason Good Sands,
Marching-to-War Soldiers: bands,
The Ring Fighter: two hands,
All Seasoned Smokers: their brands,
Newspaper Vendors: news-stands.
Book of Records: What is grand,
South Africa, now: The Rand.
Attention smokers – come on down!
We’ve got vaccines for you!
Just push those older folk aside
And front-line workers, too.
Like cancer patients, you deserve
To jump the Pfizer lines;
Ignore those teachers waiting,
With their “We should come first” whines.
So what if you brought on yourselves
The damage to your lungs?
You need the shots because of it –
Ignore those wagging tongues.
Please thank New Jersey’s leader
For he’s moved you up the list
Despite so many left behind
Who are, quite rightly, pissed.
cursed wraps wielding
callous contractions clustering
saucy smokes smoldering
taunted anger tuning
rustic route rustling
felon feelings fostering
unbridled opening undoing
pulsing passage renting
vying passion puking
punctured veins shrinking
like nature's thrill
when tattered's fiery
callous system's chaos
blackout, ballistic war.
20:01:14:01:46
Note: What's left of a smoker. What a smoker becomes. Inspired by a picture.
smokers
human relics
societal outcasts
banished to secluded islands
misfits
. SINNER OR SAINT
Sitting at the back pew in church,
I looked to the front and beheld a familiar figure,
Is it not the drunkard of Miles street?
Is it not the smoker of all types?
He was in queue for the holy eucharist,
And his gaze fixed to the cross in the altar,
I contemplated "is he a sinner or saint"?
Let our Heavenly Father judge.
ANYABOLU IFEANYI DOMINION GENTLE
(07061816037)..
Just one puff
I hug my feelings of
Holding you on my
Lips and take just
One puff..... My dear
With love all
Jagdish bajantri
In the corners where the smokers smoke,
A rainy day on beale street for music folks.
They claim they don't remember a thing under the green smoke.
Trying to hide the moments of their joy.
Days when the smokers were innocent boys.
They said they grew up
With Cuban cigars
And were raised by men with 17 scars.
They had their dreams back then,
But they now ride their motorcycles into oblivion,
Getting far away from themselves as they can.
A man with tinted sunglasses like a doubled edge sword,
Black shiny metal clothing with a blue bandanna.
Walking into club 152 with a girl named Diana.
Cigarettes scattered over the club floor,
Alcohol and rock and roll music roar,
This is a saturday night on Beale street for a smoker,
Watch out - the cards are on the table and theres the joker.
Man with the leather jacket swore his last breath
Would not be in vain,
Said he would never board deaths train.
Because the vodka whispered he could be invincible,
But cruel cruel was its bite
Which laid down his head that night.
Betrayed by booze,
Dizzily a swoon.
The sickness enters your mouth and your lips wrap around the smoky filter,
You light your lighter and spark the sickness than feel the jitter.
You inhale the sickness and exhale your life,
The smoke travels into the air and feel your life's cries.
As you hold your death in your mouth, the smoke travels all around your face,
Huging every corner of the masterpiece that God has embraced.
It cooks your skin and burns your lungs, you know that but still do it to be proud,
Be proud that once your done killing your self your troubles will go unfound.
Now your head is buzzing and swimming in a cloud of smoke,
Making you and teasing you to take another toke.
You follow its every command and do as your told,
You are a slave now of a demon that commands you all so bold.
so tired of this life i lead
forget when i wrap up the weed
i light it up. smoke
but this is a joke
serenity is what i need
Loitering outside
Complaining about work
To no one in particular
Cigarettes dangling in hand
Slowly burning
One breath at a time.
Running,panting,sweating blood,
my chests a river and a bleeding flood.
Cursing,ripping, this beating heart,
how it hates to be torn apart.
The racing drum within my chest,
calls to halt this violent test.
Lungs are black,and engine broke,
no more strength is left to yoke.
Simply now there was a pause,
hold your tongue and find the cause.
My fault alone,by my own hand,
I broke apart this one man band.
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