"ciggarette" poems
I could chug a ciggarette
Or I could chew some gum instead
I could keep reaching for the blade
Or I could just reach for the color pencils instead
I could gulp down a Heineken
Or I could settle for green tea instead
I could roll some ****
Or I could just paint a scenery instead
They say we're all addicted to something
That takes the pain away
I say otherwise.
We're all addicted to something
Just because we long for temporary satisfaction
We're all addicted to something
Just because we think it heals
We're all addicted to something
Just because, we made a choice
You don't sit there and say
" It's the only escape I have "
Because no, it's not
You make a choice
And that choice you make,
It defines who you are.
Jun 6, 2014
Jun 6, 2014 at 9:09 AM UTC
she says YES
DON'T LET THIS STOP
NO NO NO NO NO NO NO
******
and you've done it again.
I will bite your tongue
while you bite your words
i miss writing like i miss your mouth
soft,sweet,spicy
do what you want
you're not needed on this side of town
just receding,slowly
away and away and away
up in the sky
in a hot air balloon
around the world in 100 days
because we need the extra 20
to enjoy the sights and sounds
yes darling, australia is beautiful
but the coral reef is dying, and rotting away
no more rainbow shores
just an island in the middle of nowhere;somewhere
i will find you
even if 100 days later
you are on a street corner
smoking a ciggarette in each hand
stuffing the world down your throat
INHALE;EXHALE
INHALE;EXHALE
Antarctica is melting away.
Jun 13, 2010
Jun 13, 2010 at 4:19 PM UTC
"yeah... i know who took my money too. that ***** pyper, it doesnt take a rocket scientist to figure it out she jumped up to defend herself as soon as i said something." Madison replied tiredly, taking a ciggarette out and lighting it as she sat on the her black canopy bed. a picture of marilyn monroe and kurt cobain hanging on her bedroom wall. "so, what are your plans for revenge?" Cassie raised an eyebrow. "i'm debating on whether i should put raid in her perfume bottle, or nair in her shampoo." Madison replied casualy as she stared out of her bedroom window. "isnt raid poisonus?" cassie questioned.
"yep." Madison shook her head and grinned.
"she is a cockroach, seems pretty fitting to me..." she continued.
"hmmm... what about, pepper spray in her face wash?" Cassie replied with her hand upon her chin.
"i think i like the way you think cassandra motts." Madison smiled sadisticly, an evil twinkle in her eye.
Jan 29, 2015
Jan 29, 2015 at 4:43 PM UTC
The sweet smooth music plays, setting a tantalizing atmosphere that somehow says I am the master and you will enjoy tonight
The band playing the music seem plastic yet at the same time vibrant with restrained energy. Energy that , like blood, seeps into the people in the room yet not into the music that is being created. The music does not need the energy because it has a power all on its own. The people dancing enthusiastically look satisfied. They look to be having an extravagant time. Everyone is smiling. Everyone is happy? No? Look deeper. If you focus intensly, you can see the signs: a mouth twitching, a hand hesitating as it reaches for a glass, a foot jerking to its position in the dance it is performing. If you look even deeper there are signs of the desperate lust to escape: a shorter than usual skirt, a scar on a wrist, a ciggarette in a hand, a bruised neck. And I can see these signs so effortlessly. If these people could come evn close to comprehending intelligence they would call it a gift. This is not a gift ....... only a burden I bear and as I look to the others who have the ability I see them hanging. All of them. Hanging from rafters I cannot reach understand or comprehend........ I look at my rafter and deep inside me I feel the perverted need the grotesque want to find those other rafters so I drop the rope and push the chair away and I stare.... stare aimlessly at the mindless zombies that smile fake smiles.
Nov 8, 2013
Nov 8, 2013 at 3:59 PM UTC
*I originally wrote this as a song, but after a while I came to like it better as a poem.
I remember the first time I saw you,
It was a star filled summer's night.
I couldn't find the courage to talk to you at first sight.
No tight game to run
No tricks up my sleeve
My heart said "you have a chance", but my brain wouldn't let me believe...
That the most beautiful girl I had ever seen would talk to a geek like me.
It would be a year or so before our paths would cross again,
Maybe it was luck, or maybe I had some help from the wind.
It blew me in your direction...
No course. Me young and reckless, you fragile and the essence of perfection.
On that day we met I found my courage, opened up and made small talk as we passed back and forth a bright, alive ciggarette.
To you it was small talk, to me it meant the world
To you it was nothing, to me it was one step on a long road that ended with me calling you my girl.
Years passed and we grew close, but my confidence vanished, like an apiration, a ghost.
I had my chances, knew what could be...but my brain still wouldn't believe that a girl like you could see something in a geek like me.
More time has passed,
And our distance has grown.
All that signs that I once saw have now vanished on that road.
The love I was trying to weave, could no be sewn, and the word love has become nothing more than a hinderance, a drone.
The nostalgia those times hold will never be replaced
and neither will the feelings I get whenever I come across your grace.
Those star filled nights will be held as some of my best, I know this might come as a surprise to you, but I just had to get this off of my chest,
Needed to leave them etched in every line of this song...
I knew the queen in you wouldn't fall for this geek all along.
May 21, 2012
May 21, 2012 at 11:42 AM UTC
i remember going to sizzler
with my mom and my 2 brothers
and some random guy and lady---
all at the table.
and she'd load up the tray with dinosaur nuggets
and cabbage
and parsely
and split pea soup
and swirly icecream
of which you could fill a bucket and
only get a light scolding from the waitress with her 4 freckles.
i'd eat that stuff,
and there'd be faint music and clinking
and dishes breaking
and children laughing and crying
and burps from old people
and farting
from overzealous husbands
who would proclaim flatulance as being a sign of
gratitude for one's meal in
China
if you've ever heard.
and the carpet would be drenched in animal ****
and the air
thick will fillaments
and greasy dust--
and my eyes would water,
and the memories
would be a haze,
but it was always rather pleasant.
and the best part was the red ballon with the 'S' logo.
and it'd pop usually upon arriving home after you sit on it or something like that---
Then many years later
i went back with a friend
and his dad who happened to be pretty drunk
and we were listening to Lennon's "Wheels Go By''
and the waiter
was younger and better looking and had less disdain--
and i just got chocolate icecream.
but there were no swirls.
the swirles were long gone.
dead even.
dead .
and then i flicked my ciggarette into an immaculate ashtray
and a few ladies
talked about the lunch specials.
and my stomach gurgled
and we went
to ihop instead.
May 31, 2017
May 31, 2017 at 12:30 AM UTC
When farewell is said
And no light is seen anymore
When you know sleep is not in the cards
And eyes are all shut around you
The world around becomes your own
Personal hell
You see dancing shadows against the ceiling
And your eyes are fixed on them, you try to follow their way
The smile of a wicked lover reflects from the mirror and it sends shivers down your spine
You hear the desperate shout of a woman
No one will be answering her
Not then, not now, not ever.
The man who sits there, night after night,
Paging through forgotten memoirs, with the dark soul and piercing eyes. He is the one who breaks your heart. With a ciggarette in his hand, he reminds you that life with the light on is just a hoax.
"The bitterness of dissapointed will be the persistant flavour in your mouth if you keep on believing there is more to everything around you." He says, "So go on, little girl, without putting any of your faith in that light."
He became your nightly companion. Said some wise words and made you think. Until one night he took everything with him.
The dancing shadows on the ceiling, the reflecting smile of a wicked lover and the desperate shout of a woman.
And finally you could sleep.
Nov 16, 2013
Nov 16, 2013 at 5:47 PM UTC
I don't know much of anything
You tell me all the time
Ciggarette burned out
Tea has lost its prime
The apple has run dry;
Fallen too far from the tree
Away from its comfort zone
Far away from me.
Jul 7, 2010
Jul 7, 2010 at 7:50 AM UTC
It was a private
"Christian" High School
I was fed a lot of bull
But I never let it get me down
I had afternoons with you
Remember math class, Anna?
Remember my fingers drifting up your skirt
Slipping on and off
Pressing on your favorite pressure point
I remember how when the teacher turned
You would whisper so wet and heavy in my ear
"Give me your jacket"
Pressing the heel of your white palm
Into my begging human lust
Sometimes
When it's dark outside and I am all alone
I might allow my mind to wander back to afternoon
Study dates with you
Pulling at your stockings with inhuman ferver
The woman-soaked groan in my ear
The tingling of your glow soaking into my boyhood
The slip of your breath
Brought me to the edge of finite pleasure
The bite of your teeth on my bottom lip
Before you make me quiver with your
Red
Velvet
Tongue
Your mom pulled up in the drive way
I dashed
dressed
And got one more kiss
(Smothered in the taste of your sea)
"Don't forget your jacket"
I jumped the fence and began a steady pace to home
A long long way away
Imagine my surprise as I lit a ciggarette
And found in my jacket pocket: your *******
Jan 9, 2012
Jan 9, 2012 at 9:49 AM UTC
I just want plain old you. I don't need no trappings. Simple plain jane.
I just want the you that wakes up in the morning
Having drooled on your pillow.
The you with morning, and coffee, and ciggarette breath
The you who puts her hair up when she doesn't feel like dealing with it
The you who sits next to me in sweats and one of my torn up t-shirts
Eating Ice Cream
and falling asleep on my shoulder
The you who doesn't always say goodnight or I love you
The you who gets mad and cusses and yells
I mean...who doesn't
I've just come to realize
That the plain old you
Is my favorite you
Nothing plain about you
You don't have to try to knock my socks off, good lookin'
Whether your walking to me or away...I like to watch your hips sway
Going to and fro
Ain't it a sight!
Lookin' in your eyes
Well, there's nothin plain about those eyes
Dec 9, 2011
Dec 9, 2011 at 8:00 PM UTC
Yeah, come over for dinner
It had been such a long time
Since I had seen other people
I have been a creature of solitude
These past months and I had
Wrestled in my mind with
Death and the fire
I was restless I guess
Not nervous
As I knock on the door
Your wife answers
She's hardly past twenty
Her hair is red and blue eyes
I could die there on the doorstep
But I enter and tell jokes
It is easy to make her laugh
I think She had
a glass of wine
before I arrived
You and I talk about
Nothing in particular
You play music and
I sit on the carpet smoking
a ciggarette
as your wife
picks up
my glass
and fills it to the brim
it has been a long time
since
Her shirt
came up the slightest bit
then suddenly the room
is smaller
and you pass me the pipe
Your wife sits across from me
I can't help but watch her breathe
The inhale is exquisite
Machined so perfectly
Nov 24, 2012
Nov 24, 2012 at 4:12 PM UTC
We met on a sun-sand beach,
You asked for a pull
On my ciggarette,
So many decades have passed,
Yet,
I can't forget
You pulling on my ciggarette.
Aug 4, 2015
Aug 4, 2015 at 9:54 AM UTC
Little boy inside
Fight, fight, fight,
How hard?
But, then you don't have to try
Just pretend
You have dry eyes
No eyes
Because you can't see
But you can smell
I smell ****
That you don't need
But can't just be
Tobacco free
Can you?
How hard did you
Get HIT
Knocked out
Your guts
One night
Every night
Fight, fight, fight,
In the time with no light
Scared little boy consumed by
Fright
Fight, fight, fight,
Glasses on your face
An outcast
GOOD, GOOD, LITTLE BOY
GOOD ,GOOD, LITTLE TOY
Sit There
Share
What you don't
Have
Fight, fright, fault,
and Then There was
A
CIGGARETTE
Aug 1, 2016
Aug 1, 2016 at 1:37 PM UTC
You lit one,
Between the bar we and strangers were blended in hecticness
Your face faded by the smoke around the walls
I needed no clear view,I liked ur mew , by the way
Sipped one drink,words were flowing
You lit your second, you twisted the smoke, threw it to the stuffy air
My eyes were following, wondering where those smokes would rupture
I did the same, repeatedly
You did the same,vividly,
in heavy breathe, sour and dry laughing at the beginning to the next ciggarette
Your eyes were getting glazed
As if looking into something deep down
of an answer from nonsensical question
Of a bitter sweet, perhaps
of a foolish surrender you have made,perhaps
Of a misery in your chest you had kept probably
Or of unspoken words, no need to be declared
I blew those smokes around you
You were laughing
This city was made for strangers,
Strangers like Us
We own every corners as we linger in our presence
Pretending we have no other lives but here
For those who wait, I know no fear
A car passed by, it honked too loud
We both yelled and laughed at it
Interupting long loud lamentation in silence
You swallowed your pain
I knew it,
We shouldn't have shared any kiss or touch
We both yawned
We could hear chairs behind were sliding
They were leaving
Through your satire, I still laughed
Cigarettes were smoldering, while you talked
Reflected in the glass and eyes
You wish to go,carefree feet I will give
We walked through the hymn of blue eve
As the city road collapsed and expanded, wider in your pupils
I waited and watched
Words as your hands tickled (in) my mind
Burning skin as your gently touch wiped through
You lit your last , it was time
Again you twisted the smoke
Again my eyes were following where it would go,
Your silence are too loud
Light from midnight so dim
Creating a ghost that was dancing on your somber face
Our fingers quickly interlocked,
tightly through the ticking clock
Soon the sun was set, at the first dawn
We shared no more cigarettes and talk or maybe it was not me or you who were sitting
All after time, tables and chairs
Even when we are no longer there
But it lingers in years
Every scent in every scene
So long , another time perhaps
May 22, 2014
May 22, 2014 at 1:19 AM UTC
China queen of my bloodstream
Now Now I'm on a novel high
She
Radioactive wanna feel it through my skin
Contact
In my skull in my hands in my life again
Pain is a best friend
Today I'm gonna cut it
Easy does it
Easy does it
They flake but
Not me
I'm a rattlesnake
Beneath your feet
In the tree
Kick my cage
Rattle me
Make my heart flutter
She's a cutter
The old way
Set up
To lose
To use
This rabbit for a chase
This young white rabbit for
A little chase
Some heart beat
Blood heat
Serene
Dec 1, 2015
Dec 1, 2015 at 8:43 AM UTC
friends in the beach,
im happy in the shade,
light another ciggarette
enjoy the perfect day
tell yourself you earned it,
through hard hard pointless work,
tell yourself you earned it,
a little never hurt.
the sun is peaking now,
above the sea and sand,
I could lie here forever
with budweiser at hand
onto the sand again!
oh tide why wont you learn?
Your retreat to sea,
so seemingly
considered
Mar 16, 2013
Mar 16, 2013 at 8:06 PM UTC
Even if it only glitters in the sky approaching the city,
as your vision blurs and smog suffocates your lungs.
We all return to gaze into the faded stained crossing,
to remember when two fading breaths drifted apart,
eyes glistening in the hourglass of two twisted hearts.
I pretend these eyes see brief clarity beneath,
this path of split ends of unkempt dreads.
Not much to send but I'm tempted to lend,
a broken sentence with no pretense.
Kept fighting rewriting reread recollections,
staring at dead stars lighting my reflection.
Seeing what is and what could be there.
What is and what could be tangibly unaware.
Like what was and what wasn't we are both here and there.
Forgetten remains conciously aware.
So now I sit smoking a ciggarette,
Fighting to write something of sense.
Staring into pixels of kaleidescope pills.
A constant reminder of concocting thrills.
Beginning to burn out and all I wrote:
What fades away turned to smoke.
Mar 23, 2019
Mar 23, 2019 at 12:34 PM UTC
(English translation of my Assamese origin 'Bhaal Manuhbur')
Its easy to mark fine people
Fine people know not to deal the market
Rotten potatoes fine people carry home
Infants from fine people's abode shrill a lot
Fine people fall sick to diabetes soon
Fine taste they possess
Bare footed they stroll to Panbazar
Amazed discourse in arbitrary quietness
than the gigling in the dining table
Water you'll find beneath their eyeballs
If pebbles are thrown
mini waves are behold
A little vile...
Most of the fine people delight
Being the chimney of ciggarette smoke.
Nov 27, 2017
Nov 27, 2017 at 5:16 AM UTC
I thought I kneww, I thought knew I Could escape the escape from this the prismiatic prism that scatters the living litmus of tasty languish. I was electrocuted but did not die I was hyptotized but had no thoughts of mine me oh my my crastle crashing westgate smashing
I weas blown up torn up ****** up I slipped up caught ciggarette hiccups blue smoke the green **** tar ton in my lungs whisper wheeze the crispy fleece of tubular micro breeze
I make no sense to anyone but myself and all this is just play
like,
vaporize the suit and tie dusty wish stuff made from mildew soft hush *** rush wishing wash upon a star starling colors bleed from mars upon my head the rain again again a grain from solar trains a chugga choo of clothes pin gentle wind smell that touch this soft light flutter white sheet skin glow rainbow window crystal glass slow mo tumble punch gut trouble crystal shatter toes and scatter scar sardonic stars breach the shift of rock ah roll ah cokeacola box ah living oh ah mocha coffee candy sweetly
sickly
Motion moving frames repeating the subliminal superluminal transfuckafying metamorphic metaphors leaky brain
May 30, 2017
May 30, 2017 at 7:36 PM UTC
I see empty beer bottle corpses scattered around a ***** lobbie
While ciggarette butts twerk around these lonely bodies
If only there was a light that didn't come from a dead matchstick
Slumped over and burnt out
Because we turnt up
Then it turned out that we're made from plastic
Fantastic.
Apr 7, 2019
Apr 7, 2019 at 12:31 AM UTC
this is heart breaking, the toll that this is all taking,
on me, lost in all of my negativity and insecurity.
i just want to be happy and free.
i paint my face, so i look like a doll.
i feel about 2 feet tall,
i starve until my hearts content.
i am weak and dizzy, from my minds
torment.
smoke another ciggarette, as i try to fill the void,
now theres a monster around every corner,
im so miserable, and paranoid.
i dont want to give up, i dont want to die.
i know you don't believe me when i tell you that i try.
but now there is just so much pain and rage in my eyes.
there is nolonger a spark, because you've left me here to cry,
alone here in the dark.
Jan 11, 2015
Jan 11, 2015 at 2:15 PM UTC
The cold wind of the night blows soothingly
As I light my ciggarettes
Burning away my life as well
The thoughts of the past came back to me
Like a VHS tape complete with the date and time
Plays back the time when I was able to feel
Back when you were there
The smile, The laugh, The silly jokes
Those were the good times
You left without notice
My heart ran away with you
I don't even feel anything
The world is just numb
I'd like to thank you for it
I've fallen into the dark abyss of numbness
And I like it
As I was finishing my thought
My ciggarette burnt out
Apr 24, 2018
Apr 24, 2018 at 1:30 PM UTC
this eastern european chick always sqauts next to me in an alley
at like 12:03 at night when i'm smoking a ciggarette
and it always makes me uncomfortable
but they have no familiarity with american spacial barriors or common neuroses.
and i'll say something like ''
hey''
and she'll nod and say something back in
polish but proceed to stare at her phone.
and i edge away about 2 inches
and she'll scoot ever closer.
and she doesn't find me attractive because i dress in a black poncho and wear an eyepatch with spikes on it.
then i'll flick the **** away and stomp it in the dirt and she keeps scooting closer
and closer
and closer
and closer
to something
until she
dissapears completely in the shadow that overhangs the streetway littered with bums
and fresh cut lemongrass
while wolfs howl in the rolling hills
Jun 1, 2017
Jun 1, 2017 at 1:53 AM UTC