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Cold-Bones Dec 2014
I'll take it back to those dark dim light streets and start again.
I'll never look back over my cold shoulder. There is now static  in the midst.  Like the final curtain call of a tragic happy ending. Deranged by this false pretension that you have embedded into my beautiful flaws. Lost in my own Dark morgue holding a ciggerate in my hand. Every drag closer to my dead line, but more bliss than dying next to a harlot, liar, and trader.
Baby why couldn't of you of just trusted my word? Now just look at this mess. Your beautiful mess. My disaster. My best gentlemen suit  now ruined.  I can wash out the stains of regret, but not the blood on your  filthy hands that isn't your own. Set the trial. Prosecute the guilty. **** the false idols and beat the cheeks of the ignorant.
Your a addict for  those tall tale  accusations that feed your hunger. Like the deep belly of the beast that is never satisfied. Seeking the image of your face to destroy, but your  faceless to my devine  perspective of a fake object I once looked up too.
Set the trial. Prosecute the guilty. **** the false idols and beat the cheeks of the ignorant.
Your beautiful mess.
My disaster.
I'm so very fond of this piece.  A lot of regret, agony , anger , and pain is much interrupted. Key points of my experience of the past year.
E Feb 2019
Fumes outline your porcelain lips
Making it hard to forget
The memories that you and I spent
Each time a ciggerate is lit
Madeysin May 2015
Bleary, dreary bifocals looked out through seeing eyes. At the maze of apiculture before him. He pushed a cart his whole life, never stepping up on the ledge to ride it.

Every Tuesday night, his fist packed tight full of ones. Uncrumbling, Washington from his back pocketed jeans. He'd lay him out flat, on the desk, like I should be impressed. One pack of cigs please.

He'd take his cart, around the world & back. Show kaleidoscope girls a good time. Because no matter how pretty that **** picture was, no matter how many times you tore it a part...it was always ugly. Just like the make up, that caked up the beauty on her face.

Parking lot pickups, corner cat-calls, was all she would be worth, a penny in the gutter, if she was lucky. Face up, grasped by hands that'll never love her. Such a steep price, for such a cheap use of love. Generic.

He tells them, he loves them as his boots slide on, comfortable. Too much in a hurry to take his socks off. Humming, Spin Doctors under his breath. He breaths heavily, like he worked so hard that day.

She holds onto morales like lose change, change is lose when you're use, to anything. That shows up on the corners on a Tuesday night, with something new to ignite. Not just the ciggerate between his lips. Lion skin, hipocrathy.

I lay the bills neatly in the drawr, wondering what price he really pays for the stress to relieve his mind. What price does the girl pay, how many clinics does she visit in a year. Baby girl YOUR NOT AN ACCIDENT, YOUR WORTH MORE THAN THE WORDS THAT HIT YOUR CHEEK LIKE A SLAP YOU HAVE MORE POTENTIAL THAN THE MEN YOU LET COMFORT YOU INTO THIS ABUSIVE SOLIDTUDE. YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL, I WOULD SPEND EVERY CENT I HAD JUST TO SIT & TALK WITH YOU.

**Luke 7:47
"Therefore, I tell you, her many sins have been forgiven—as her great love has shown. But whoever has been forgiven little loves little.”"
Going to clean this up later, turn it into spoken word
Madeysin Mar 2015
My hands smell like smoke,
But I haven't used a ciggerate in three years,
My breathe smells like liquor,
But I haven't drank in ages,
Maybe I'm dreaming,
Maybe I'm dead,
Is this hell? Inside my head,
Maybe the LSD finally kicked in
There was a garden of un-thorned red roses
protected by un-imaginable silvery- pink cages
fenced behind the stony stretched
rib-like walls
they said fumigation on roots and petals are necessary

but he took my hands and handed me a lit-ciggerate..
Madeysin Jun 2015
I cuddle deeper into your ciggerate coated hoodie. Taking in the scent, making me sicker. But it's so comfortable.
Madeysin Apr 2015
I asked a man for a ciggerate, he pulled the pack out of his back pocket. Handed me one, like it was a loaded gun. Like I was going to laugh and make fun. Turn on him quick & run. I stood there in the dark breeze humming Bob Dylan. He turned to me and said, " kid I see you with a gun to your head, always hiding in bathrooms like that's your heaven instead" he layed out the floor plans on how life worked. Graphs and data of the sorts. No fancy words, no past life inquiry. Not a man but an eagle. He said he still sees me with a gun in my hand as he flew away to some unreachable tree top. The lights faded out, realizing how alone you are, with a gun to your head, on the bathroom floor trying to make it to heaven instead, you dip your toes in the lake of fire. It's warm, I could stay a while.
Elizabeth Fruin Jul 2017
Just light up another ciggerate
And let me smoke my lungs dead
How else am I supposed to handle it
When my heart can't lead my head

Let the air I breath change for worse
Don't call out when my pulse slows
No need to bring a doctor or a nurse
For I am that single withering rose
Heart broken is not a nice state of being. Good luck to my fellow sorrowful souls❤
Madeysin Mar 2015
Boy
Sun drops and ciggerate kisses,
Hot pavement buildings,
Side walk cracks,
Flower stems,
Fish kisses,
Fall for me
Madeysin Apr 2015
It hasn't even been ten minutes yet,
Already outside sweatpants hanging off my hips, you can finally see the bones again,
A ciggerate between my lips so quick,
I don't have time to remember that I don't smoke, but the offer was there so why not take it, I've got more toxins in my body I can handle it, cold hands on colder concrete, I can hear the boys next store talking about me, they say I'm a broken bird in a world where I'm forced to fly,
They whisper the words pathetic, yet have never outstretched a hand to a childhood friend, who's dying, trying to believe in a God,
When every else knows she's lying, the unforgivable sin always dancing in, her brain, a mess, a wreck. Her heart, a detached chain link fence, always looking through but never reaching, and she's sick and tired of all the needless beating, the 3 am screaming, knocks on her bedroom door during the night send her reeling into terrorized wakings, remembering who's always on the otherside waiting, what did she do wrong this time, like living in the hood, but all her family thinks it's good, the way her parents raised her up. They don't know about the glass and beatings and the blood. Cause she smiles, & Yaweh smiles they use to say, but it all leads back to a scared little white girl in the suburbs, sitting on the porch step, asking God what he's doing, she cries out," lord my love for you is abundant some days I get lost in it, 1 hour of intimacy and feeling wanted, I walk away broken and daunted, sitting on a porch stoop waiting for the next train to come by, you won't see me in the morning"
Goodbye,
KV Srikanth Jun 2022
Tobacco  crafted together
Rolled up in a white piece of paper
One end dangling between the lips
Other end waiting to get lit

Nicotine rich leaves
Dried up and fermented
For smoking or chewing
Packaged for marketing

Burning the tobacco
Ingesting the smoke
Ciggerate as a tool
Fool or Cool upto you

Perceived as a pleasure
Suffering from peer pressure
Looking fleek  a measure
Addictions founder member


Risk and rebel
Not concerned about Survival
Dismissive of approval
Most factors mental

Trying to monitor
Through force or power
Always does backfire
Appears to empower

Quitting a process
Hard to digest
Body craves as time lapses
Target dates set in process

Makes time go faster
Is a friend to a loner
Finds company in the smoker
They compliment each other

Seen as a misfit
Or the ultimate fit
Approved disapproved habit
Every era gives it a certificate of merit

Movie star letting out smoke
Triggers the wanting in you
Imitation best form of flattery
The hero achieves it rather easily

Rolling it in his mouth
Sending smoke  rings out
Talking with the ciggerate dangling
Lighting it is almost heaven

Be there do that
Doesn't make you him
Realising it is too late
Lips holding the stick a preface

The first is the toughest
Next comes the secrecy
Not for too long
Agony  loses out to fantasy

Vapours on the twin tracks
Guilt and pleasure
Parralal to each other
Guilt replaced by fear
Pleasure by torture


Light it and inhale it
Exhale it and smoke it
Forget about it
Till the next time you light it

Easy come never goes
Words like willpower deeply sowed
Growth replaced by fire
Six feet under

Easiest way out
Make a joke
Destiny the locker for moral bankruptcy
Imagination starts flowing freely



Smoking and dying
Are  forgivable in a sense
You know you're the pits
When everyone around you have quit

Dying a better option
An example for future generations
The biggest sucker of the lot Nicotine finds you its easiest mark

When the marketing slogan
Warns you of death
Speaks for the product
Still beats their sales target

Laughable not that irony
Willpower to stay of the grave
Use it for better purposes
Than to negate a  negative effect

Many Bestsellers written
How not to be the Marlboro man
Be the Marlboro man
Marlboro immortal not the man

No one is immortal
Tells us our brain
I'll quit at the right time
Shows everything wrong with time

The dreaded condition
I won't be the victim
Every smokers slogan
Decade long battle like the Trojans

Married to it
Withdrawal the Alimony
Too much to pay rather stay married
Don't worry not too long your stay

Born smoked died
Could never put it away
All that needed was an Ashtray
Go ahead make your day
Thesunking Apr 11
On an evening dance show I wasted a ciggerate on thoughts
The light shimmered on the ball,
The music was new, all the songs were turned into stew
A soup of melody and a constant beat
Trembling the floor and the ceiling~
I gazed upon the upcoming crowd
"A beer" They crooned.
The ancient smell of ***** and liquor gassed up the entire floor.
The ciggerate, it burned too loud, and the poet was not allowed,
Saddned by the echoes of silence in a room full of noise, I left the premise with nothing but nicotine stains and words without sentences.
~
The ladies,  cursed by design
The men, manipulating the minds
The children, running to hide.
Where are the people who once promised a dinner?
Where are the shackles of chains that were
Left unattended to the working class?
-
I saw him throw the trash at the
river that sprung from a feet of a cow.
Vrishabhavathi, she cries.
A symphony of dead plastics and living garbages.
Decorated by the lush pink trees
With the smell of rotting cabbages.
-
Did they bring more people to build a holy land?
Did they fight communists holding flowers in their hands?
Were there people overlooking the waters filled with foam?
The forests filled with food packets and rotting homes
-
If a tree fell in a forest. Would you **** me?
This way?
Zyxxyz Oct 2019
YOU
a medicine that became the poison
a flame that turned into a deadly fire
an angel that fell from heaven
a demon with a kind soul

even azrael's soul can't hurt me the way you do
when i hear you craving someone new
a ciggerate is bad for my heart
and you are poison to my soul
and yet i'm addicted to you


an innocent face
a soft red lips
and a big brown eyes
that all it took for me to lose my mind
and yet you will never be mine

your lips
my lips
apocalypse
please rate it
Riju Gupta Aug 2020
Blazing sun
Moderate winds
70-80% humidity
Cracked roads
Racked foot paths
Scattered waste
Rising smoke
Pile of bricks in corner

Group of 4 children
Not older than 10
Running and shouting
With all laughs and giggles
On behind another
Carrying a white sack

Crossed the drenched children
In white shirt and blue pant
Soaked in sweat
Like they are carrying the world
On their back

one of the child
In check grey shirt
Looked at them
As he moved across
In back seat of benz
With ice-cream in one of the hand

18-20 year looking  guy
Smoking ciggerate at one end
With eyes Hooked to moving benz
Surrounded with his gang

As the aunty from across
Drying her dress
Mumbling,ahhh
What a cheap ***

Mason passing by her house
carrying
Basket on his head
And shouting
To mark his presence

A girl wearing heals
With a mid thigh and deep neck dress
Crosses a pool of water and mud
Worrying about all the effort
She made to look her best

Every man on road
Eyes struck to her pose
Thinking what a *****
Can’t she wear some more

A group of 4 may be 6
In mid 40’s to 50’s
Sipping their tea
While judging every thing they see
Discussing how its better &
How its worse ,for sharma’s son
Ignoring their own worse

Bells ringing
Azan singing
Ik Onkar ecoing
Horns honking
Dogs barking
People shouting
Life’s running

A sadhu sits aside
And Ignites
Now With glassy eyes
Grasped all this mundane life
Mumble’s these miserable lives
Om shanti Om shanti Om shanti!!

A guy, on top
Watching this all
And gasps
Wow
What a crazy life

And writer’s write
Welcome to street, Called
LIFE!!!
KV Srikanth Dec 2021
Day differs from Day
Passing it away
The toughest game to play
Time as the opponent ticking away

Lonely and seeking
Seeking what is the question
Seeking only when lonely
Alone or lonely the first question

Rocking the chair
Rocked by life
Despair and Content
Dichotomy with consent

Smoke from the ciggerate
Makes the clock move faster
In reality making life shorter
With reference to what is where I differ

Detailed recalling to
Far fetched day dreaming
Mind full of thoughts of flowing
Pastime made out of past reflecting

Thoughts merge within
Bringing clarity so it seems
Smoke filled air looming
Indication perhaps of what's coming

Predicting knowing the odds
99 to 1 in favor of the gods
Old habits die hard
Perhaps more births to learn the path

— The End —