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Birdy Jul 3
My father hid himself
within the smoke
underneath my ribcage

Sometimes he rattles his fingers
underneath my bones
and squirms his hands
around my ticker

He taught the monster under my bed
to crawl under my skin
and stick his filthy fingers
in the cracks of my brain
and break it in half

His name echoes the canals of my ears
and his shadow haunts every step
I wish I could’ve made
The day you blew smoke in my face I knew I'd be gone forever.
I.
Old flame; a spark of love,
Conflagration—a great deal for a crush,
A touch, a rush; all too much,
Tear filled eyes, after ashes rise from the dust.

Throttle neck, coughing like an exhaust,
Love to be a ride from coast to coast,
But we only spoke love just to boast,
We often did more than the most.

II.
Smoke from the chimney box,
Your eyes burning red—a fiery fox,
A scent in the springs of kisses phlox,
Our charred hearts swallowed the crops.

The land is grey in a colour of soot,
Something pretty is afoot underfoot,
For après—tragedy has a beauty take root,
Something grows ahead futures; by it's caput.

III.
A rose from the ashes—reminds me wisely,
That we gain a superior from former chaos,
Braved to awaken eyes; searching love blindly.
You've found that love, that one!--the one
Making two, to be loved and love!--that's four
For you're in love now, after another love.

                                                   Tears of ashes no more...
I S A A C Jun 9
cocktail of pills
flutes of smoke
run away baby let's just go
on a journey, earning our stripes
on a journey, to be us in spite
of all of the backlash, never returning to the past
the fruitful future is sweeter than the blooming flowers
stay with me please, just an hour
serotonin pumping, my heart jumping
out of my chest, kiss you on your neck
run away baby
run away again
into the green, grounded like trees
our roots intertwine, your soul is divine
run away baby
run away with your every time
Maurice May 23
I smoke to forget
I fill my head up with clouds
like a thick fog on the ocean blue
so my memories are unable to cut through

To cover up and hide away
all of my pain and shame of yesterday
I smoke to forget
my life full of regret

Like my head's up my ***
I fill my head up with gas
and feel relief from the fumes
that cloud up my room

As I lay here, I languish
contemplating my own demise
for when I look in my mirror
the eyes I see, I don't recognize

Because I fill my head up with smoke
so I don't have to evoke
all of my pain and shame
I have hidden away since yesterday
5/23/22
Mark Wanless May 18
smoke rises
from village hearths
baby's sleep
POSSIBLE May 3
God is spoken
From a potent Thing
we smoking Trees

Gaia birthed the bloom
breathed the boom
in the canopies,

In the wind flew the bees
and grew the pleasantries

Prana pushing
thunder through

sQuishing lemon trees  
like a hundred new

Whisps of mists
and heavy deeds
Sit with honeydew

The gist of this
the lemon breeze
(We) Going tunnel view

Fits and Shakes,
seeking remedies
digging under you

Might be
dicking under you

Might be
Torn asunder true

Pirate borne to plunder you....
Sweat means gold,

what's been found
with lemon -ease?

I've been told
What in our eyes
is what we ever see's

7 seas,
more like 7 deeds,
filled with deadly feeds

Demons like to pleade
with ready rease,

Virus, the life that
spread disease

(it alters our sense
and what we please)

~Ahem,  

no te comas
la verdad
del diablo,
  

today to trust
Might feel bad, but
none brought low

There's an easy in
WE  Strong Standin',
N0ne brought low

and now we win
amen, a man
none start south

Its begun...

Light as
Potent as my prayers
**** the make-believe
I can't wear it, ah

Dark is
Ever reaching
What do you receive?
What you carrying hah?

Balance
(Is) an even preaching :
What we choose to be
*I can bear it ; hah

Come  and help me unweave
those who have been so deceived

Those stuck in in the mud of ...
sputtering " how can it be ?"

**** the you or me, mentality
When Neurons Fire free
and Serotonins drained in me

You Might find Saraswati
sweetly swathing me

In glowing rivers,

poured off the moon
With Omens looming soon

With Omens looming soon
I been choking on my doom.

Dreaming
with Both eyes open

and a heart awoken ,
poorly stoking gloom

Too blind to see hope
but stoked, still
mocking roving

Vroom : im off to tokin soon.
****t this blunt be totaled soon

I Might be total loon
an inverted magic man

who most often enwomb
those caught on the moon

Those stuck in the tune
For those who hear
this earworm, this tea room sloom.

This is for Those muted in zoom:

I've found traction in heaps
Breaking as hard and often

As the risen yeast
When you pass on the least

My Passion is to find
the passion of peace

its Stuck In the  grasp
Fashioned with the sap

of my last energies...
This is for the wynd
LC Apr 16
the church used my burning soul to light the candles for every service / my innocence floated away with the smoke from the censer / the past and present clashed like cymbals / and it hurt my ears.
time ran down the slippery ***** of the hourglass / my vocal cords struggled to come together / oxygen left the air / and my flame was nearly extinguished.
so no / I will not give a cent / because I was the donation shared amongst everyone else / even as I burned.
no more.
Escapril Day 16! Prompt: fire.
I overheard people talking about making donations to the church, and it inspired me to write this poem. These are my feelings based on my personal experiences.
I hope you are all doing well!
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