"cigs" poems
*We all
Dance around
A fire with lipstick
On our cheeks in lines
Powdered in patterns that* will
Accentuate the contours of our bodies
Symbols written in eyeliner so daintily
Adorned like ink meeting paper we are
*Decadent 287 temptation 285 ****** 307* flame 300
*The savages you have created with media we chant
Eninimef eninimef eninimef eninimef we chant*
In a circle circulating the world with our starving
Bodies that whisper of synthetic beauty and
Neglect naked and perverse we are posing
For your cameras capturing exploitation
And degradation because ****** 307 we
Are ****** 307 temptation 285 the savages
You have created with media eninimef we chant
We are the heat of broken records and burnt out cigs
Play us like your out of tune guitar our G-strings are so
Much more loose unlike the noose of your hands grazing*
Our skin we sing what you want no matter how deep
No matter how long the song we are exactly what
You want *the savages you have created of me –
The savages you have created with media –
Eninimef eninimef eninimef eninimef
We chant – we chant – we chant – we
Decadent 287 temptation 285
****** 307 flame 300*
Apr 20, 2014
Apr 20, 2014 at 3:48 AM UTC
I cried at the breakfast table this morning
my father carefully explained,
"wives must be submissive to their husbands"
"housecleaning is the domain of the woman"
"God created woman because man asked for a partner"
This past semester I wrote two papers
One, a fire and brimstone sermon
I quoted Anais Nin
sending the creators of sexist commercials to eternal suffering
**** them!" I said. "May they burn in hell."
For the women they portrayed were doormats
Misconceptions
Monsters
The other, the role of women in the 1920s,
No longer confined to the kitchen
they dropped ballots with their new freedom
they wore short dresses and short tresses
fingers wrapped around cigs
they quoted Wilde instead of Alcott
they danced until their feet hurt
I read of Anais Nin's "new woman,"
her partnership, not submission to man,
I craved a room of my own, neigh demanded it
For sheep stayed in the kitchen,
The Woolf had a study.
I read poetry
Sexton,
Plath,
I wept for their starved, depressed selves
caged, suffocating inside the clasped hands of a man.
Loved like rib-cage jails.
Adrienne Rich made me angry,
her daughter-in-law
forever trying to fit into a box
she was always too big for, spilling
at the edges, her shaved
legs like "white mammoth tusks"
I was finally
happy with my womanhood.
****** ****** ***** ********
they are mine.
******* free to move unrestrained,
jiggling under my shirt.
Wetness between my thighs.
Menstrual blood,
they are mine.
mine.
I am not ashamed of what I am
because there is no shame.
I am woman,
I am girl,
I am lady.
I am a creature
with a voice
a mind.
a creature who endured much abuse,
continue to endure.
I am woman
and I don't have to be wife or mother
unless I want to be.
I was not created for man;
I was created for the same reason he was,
to serve the same great purpose on this tiny blue dot.
I am not rib.
I am ****** ****** ***** ********
******* free, unrestrained,
Wetness between my thighs.
Menstrual blood,
I am a per.
I am a wo.
I am a hu.
Man and son need to back down,
collaborate not dominate,
speak not command,
for when less are forced into silence,
the maddening scream
hidden inside skin and bones and muscle-meat
becomes song.
this world of car horns and tire screeches
crying and wailing from raw throats
angry protests of indignation
could use a little music.
Apr 8, 2013
Apr 8, 2013 at 6:59 PM UTC
Happy Father's Day
To the best father I could ask for,
My mother who played both roles
Since I was only six months old.
Who bravely stepped up to a man
Who had been making our lives hell
And for knowing when I needed
A mother more than a father.
Thank you for saving
All five of us from a life with a man
Who loved alcohol more than his kids
Who loved smokin cigs
More than a nice barbecue.
Who never bothered to be a part of our lives
When the going was rough because of him.
Thank you Mom, for always putting us first.
Your the best father I could have asked for.
Jun 16, 2014
Jun 16, 2014 at 3:28 AM UTC
A Crop of Lies irrigate farmland
Deception grows and dies
Its corpse sustains
A cycle refrains
Cold, this night is
Cracks open the ground
Revealing a sight
Seeping through with light
Regions were found
To be taken and conquered
Sailors sailed to eat sailors
And they as well ate bread
Sounds of paranormal had
Guided every boat, then plane
Then spaceship, to the inside
Of a toy box they made
“These Crops dictate Truth”
Says Man (or monster)
Every night is cold; cracked
These Crops are impure
Livestock tell stories of their leader
It’s more of saying really
Because they’re ******* livestock
The Truth cannot tell nor talk
Reason slips off their skin
Like water off oil
Harder and harder it is
For Man to let joy soak in
Journeys of discovery
Travel through the television
Crisps, colas, pies, and cakes
Is what ******* does it
Beef pulp, French toast, tomato paste
Is what ******* does it
All we consume is ****
Crying fat morons decompose
“I really like the rain”
Says ****** with pudding stain
And her body melts and pours
As the rain does inexcusably
Great big dogs soak up in the rain
Unlike Man with his walking cane
They are all dying as they retreat
Underneath a roof of sin to replace
Emotional politicians claim they’re drug-free
As they smoke cigs and drink alcohol
Infant babies were torn apart in shopping malls
Did the World set them free?
Man (or monster) propose
To have a war on anything
Must any more children die?
Or can they get high; watch television?
What the **** is wrong with an aspect
Of harmless self-discovery
Can Man wager livestock’s epiphany?
Is it o.k. to live in a subdivision?
Or on a farm, or in the television?
Do these Crops have to dictate
Which victim we choose to mate?
To dictate our truth?
Can the fake astronaut admit?
He got ******* high; watched sitcoms
Ate potato chips, ate cereal out of the box
Never told a soul it was a hoax
Crops soak in the sweet rain
As the political Man weeps
These Crops become true
Dying Men no longer retreat
A Crop of Lies
Become so true
This wisdom is beauty
What we see now
Is as clear as day
May 3, 2014
May 3, 2014 at 2:25 PM UTC
Smoke in the summer Forget
about the winter Ash glows
like sunsets Tried it once
before Coughed till I couldn't
anymore Asthma is the worst
Once bought a soft pack
My cigarettes were soggy Buying
hard packs now What the
**** is that In my
skinny cigarette Change about fifty
Go outside the joint Ask
around for a loosie Bumming
cigs is hard Tender cigarette
After a sucky *** daze
I want you back now
Oct 18, 2012
Oct 18, 2012 at 11:42 AM UTC
They're Everywhere!, The Beautiful Badger Skins, All Of Your Things, To Conquer The Ant, Feces Feline, ****** Off Traffic, The Coloring Books, I'll Catch You With Nets, A Truce To Trance, Pale Nosed Girls, Jars In June, Fake Fight Fridays, Just Like Madeline, Cats And Dogs, The Poor And The Smiling, So She Says, No Strawberries Please, Bicycle Chase, Chickens Don't Fly, Behind The Shed, Cars In The 90's, Carl's Disease, Anthropomorphic Crush, A Cheer From The Waves, Bubbles Bubbles Bubbles, The Floorboards, Suitcase Joust, Beneath The Forest, Myspace Meltdown, Call Me On Tuesday, Take Me Out To Pho, Grave Of The Cameras, Toothpicks And Cigs, Wax On Wax Off, Bad Days For Good People, Burnt Bacon.
May 21, 2013
May 21, 2013 at 11:27 PM UTC
I'm African and I'm proud.
Hip hop is not the only genre I listen to.
Classic rock, classical music, jazz/blues, country, metal, and even disney musical scores.
I **** at basketball, can careless about sport.
Can run fast as hell ;)
If a **** or KKK member called me a ******
I'll shake his/her hand, say hello.
End with the ever pleasant;
"Have a good day."
I'll run 6 miles day. (was 12)
I'll walk to each sunset.
I'm a nerd first, poet second, reader third.
I'll say no to cigs, drugs etc.
I'll laugh at every **** thing that's funny to me.
I'm a kid at heart.
I'll help the weak.
I'll Feed the poor.
I'm going to marry who I want.
I'll be the nicest **** person I can be.
I'll take care my mom when I'm older.
I'm not going to join the Society of the Norm.
Jan 24, 2011
Jan 24, 2011 at 7:16 PM UTC
To miss a staff meeting is no joke.
It extends the time between a smoke.
Once outside cigs are passed around:
The air is filled with smoke and happy sounds.
Too soon the session comes to an end:
To the customers’ needs they must attend.
So it’s back to the job,
Where they earn a honest bob.
Norman Stevens
Dec 6, 2015
Dec 6, 2015 at 5:56 AM UTC
The smell of my mother
was
Cigarette smoke of cigs targeted towards independent women
was
Perfume of a woman too old to accept the fact that she's aging
was
Clothes from the early 90s and mid 80s which all smelled the same
was
Skin which smelled yellow from her habits
was
Breath which smelled the same
was
Red lipstick
was
Hair dye
was
Lies.
Apr 2, 2014
Apr 2, 2014 at 1:28 AM UTC
Went to the General Store today
it was named
FAST & EASY
Must have been tongue in cheek
I went in and the general manager
was eating corned beef from the can
Went in to buy a pack of cigs
for a friend
Was assaulted by
Bob's Country Made Molasses
Dried Baby Alligator Heads
A Candy Counter
Antique ? Furniture
no judgement, just not sure
A ***** bathroom
blowjob offering on the wall, nice
Walked out of the general store today
FA -T & EASY
looks like the neon turned on
What a place, I like it a lot
Or maybe it's just the warm Florida air
Dec 9, 2013
Dec 9, 2013 at 8:31 AM UTC
drunk kissing blurry faces under neon lights
i'm sorry that your party had to end with a fight
but that creep was overstepping everywhere tonight
after sharing reservations about people getting high
your friend won't stop asking for my marly lights
these cigs for aesthetics are going to ruin our lives
debrief time: your parents argue, divorce is in sight
romance is everywhere, you're convinced that i'm blind
hey, out of curiosity, have you ever wished on a satellite?
Feb 28, 2024
Feb 28, 2024 at 1:19 AM UTC
French inhaling cigs,
Chasing the burn
With mixed drinks,
The nights oh so cold.
Who would've known,
That I'd find myself alone,
This night is ****
And I can't believe,
That I'd drown my dreams.
Nothing is as it seems,
Staring at the bottle
I'm just tryna find relief.
Chain smoking cigs,
Cause my lack of ****
Numbing the pain
Just so I won't see -
.....what's down memory lane
Dec 7, 2014
Dec 7, 2014 at 10:15 AM UTC
bar bars bars bar bars bars
smoke smoke smoke cigs smoke
shot shot beer shot beer
bar bar bars bar smoke shot beer
sleep, glorious sleep.
Aug 30, 2014
Aug 30, 2014 at 9:21 PM UTC
walking through the big flea market
off of highway 19 north of Tampa
looking for whatever and something
curious and kitsch or campy
merchants selling in the parking lot
used blenders and old cameras
burnt out or faulty devices
DVD cases and game cartridges
old rednecks shout out opinions
in a cacophony of drawled signifiers
representing visions of despotic rulers
reigning a tyranny of taxes and decline
old glass containers and windshields shine
scattering high afternoon sunlight in the Sunday sky
sitting and resting used and content waiting
waiting for the wear and reduction of time
the market continues into indoor aisles
criss-crossing within a ramshackle structure
plywood walls supporting sheet metal roofing
an aroma of every greasy food wafting into one
people wrapped in worn fashions
whites in Ts and denim
muslim women in headscarves
a black deputy strapped down in uniform
the deputy enforces commerce laws
around the alternative marketplace
a variety of commodities are still available
bongs and e-cigs and incense and **** ****
parakeets cry out down one aisle
a stack of blue aquariums drone a bubbling hum
the stench of cedar and rat **** and hamsters
reptiles basking in the arid glow of heat lamps
all is right in America’s America
the flea market is the floorboard of that promise
an opportunity for anyone to begin
or start again and over and over
a liberal conservatism can be guarded well
with rifles or tazers at bargain rates
a conservative liberalism is applied openly
in the atmosphere of everyone for anything and everything
the dream of the flea market
a black market and a carnival
all of America’s cheap art on display
its people swirled into one
equal in their struggles and desires
reaching for resources and derivatives
buying low and selling higher
stealing and selling short
walking through the big flea market
on a hot and cloudless Sunday afternoon
looking for whatever or something
it’s a fun thing to do
originally posted to my blog https://sublimeobscenities.wordpress.com on 4/27/2014
Feb 17, 2015
Feb 17, 2015 at 1:17 AM UTC
I romanticize the smell of cigs
because I want destroying myself
to be something beautiful and graceful.
Sep 20, 2020
Sep 20, 2020 at 5:11 AM UTC
I think I fell in love with a porn-star
And got married in a bath-room
Honeymoon on the dance-floor
And got divorced by the end-of-the-night.
On her thin white neck
the Devil's mark.
Butt-I'm in love with my porno-chick;
I present her to my mother
with a video, with my MacBook Pro™,
smokin' her Marlboro™ clove cigs,
all glimmer up with cheap make up
falling curls over her shoulders,
between you and me, o'er her *** in debris.
There's only one, and one there's only:
don't bother me and my ***** chick
if you don't get cheap thrills from a midnight flick
if you're feeling suicidal, or barely lonely.
And I love her.
Aug 14, 2015
Aug 14, 2015 at 7:53 AM UTC
Im so awkward
Like I catch people
catching people catch me
Staring at them people
And I pretend like I don't hear them
Saying ***
look at his tattoos
and all he ****** does is smoke cigs
And longboard
I see that in their yuppy *** faces
*** we got so rich and cool
And lost all your freedom
**** you and your shrimp platter
and your ****** puma im gonna burns calories on the tredmil
Of every day rich life
My tredmil is living paycheck to paycheck
******* the world
and kissing a girl
cuz really the paychecks pay for our ways to get laid
Mar 2, 2013
Mar 2, 2013 at 2:19 AM UTC
when I was sixteen
Grace and I smoked
some cigarettes on her drive way
on a summer afternoon
my first breath
a rush of nicotine
made me dizzy to childhood
we drove and listened
to Christian music
briefly sweating
while we swore and smoked
Allison and I loved
winter cigarettes
bland coffee and cold grass
beneath our bodies
warm sun lay sleepily across our backs
school left behind mid-way
with contented smiles
Aaron did not have a car
i drove the two of us
through foreign neighborhoods
after school with mix cd’s
short-lived and
always spraying sweet perfume
deep cologne
before sitting well-behaved
at the dinner table
enthusiastic about our studies
Next to the river
rushing water
sometimes littered and malodorous
on the highway bridge
in the center between two worlds
rushing past
Jacob and I
had nothing to do
everything to say
the one I lost
grew up without me
hunched on the curb
outside his parents house
with me next to him
older and less destroyed than he
we both inhaled exhaled
without knowing what it meant
i smoke still
those who have gone
stay with me
with each inhale
and swirl of smoke released
against the night canvas
must i let them go
for my poor lungs’ sake?
May 5, 2012
May 5, 2012 at 2:59 PM UTC
tremors from the albuterol
two puffs was enough
to loosen my chest
after my fourth maverick
cheap smokes
but not cheap enough
to fill you full of fiber glass
and cat **** chemicals
my lungs call me a hypocrite
can't help but agree
i'll get one of those digital cigs
to avoid the nightmare patch
Jan 7, 2015
Jan 7, 2015 at 2:20 PM UTC
Love was my drug of choice
It doesn't help I have
an addictive personality
But we all have our vices
Cigarettes,
They can be trusted
A little pleasure,
A little pain,
They'll **** you in the end
But it's all part of the contract
You'll sell your body
For peace of mind
A lover is not so courteous
You'll sell your soul,
For what?
At least the cigs are honest
Easier to replace,
Quicker to be rid of
No delusions of permanence,
No false promise of forever
Just a little pleasure,
And a little pain
Sep 20, 2013
Sep 20, 2013 at 10:32 PM UTC
It's raining outside
and
These beautiful things
shining through my tears
will feel the drops
but never know my fears
how could they if I don't?
Rain drops
Falling from the trees
into the sky
and you never ask why
ignore the dots in the sky
they're not there
Rain falls
on tattooed tough guys
littering sidewalks with spit
say they're trying to quit
cigs for the sixth time
and he's tired of lie
tied together to hide
his head when he cries
from better eyes
It's raining outside
Slight stirrings before sunrise
split seconds of conscientiousness
before slipping into a sea of dreams
I always have the most vivid dreams
while the sun is rising
It's raining outside
but not in here
not in my head
not in my bed
Sep 15, 2010
Sep 15, 2010 at 7:09 PM UTC
Stocked up, locked up
In my sanctum ********
Got *** and cigs and cheap wine;
For me that makes a quorum.
I hope no friend comes by
Acting all hale and hearty.
They're not inside a moment
Then they call up Dial A Party.
Then suddenly my place
Plays host to all the bums
Who have nothing else
But the strength to come
And just sit on my couch
And then eat up all my food
Drink all of my *****
While slurring words like “Dude!”
Now, I'm not anti-social
But I am not Donald Trump
Who has plenty of cash
To entertain these humps.
If they only brought something;
A six-pack or some ****
I'd find an excuse for them;
Some lame reason or need.
So, these days I read
And keep the stereo off.
I don't turn on the lights.
Hell, I don't even cough.
I hide out in the bedroom
Just me and Sam *****
Seriously reconsidering
The kind of friends I've made.
Aug 23, 2016
Aug 23, 2016 at 10:38 PM UTC
Familys ******** can ya hear em?
Uncle larry's probaly gonna puke dont get near him.
I kinda ****** up sight.
Someone get Bobby Joe outthe street cause ya know he aint bright.
Christmas kinda blows around here.
So toss me a bottle and crack a beer.
Hey did anyone know how the tree caught fire?
No sweetie uncle Stan isnt a down on his luck actor.
He's really a drug dealer and habitual liar.
Is egg nog supposed to have chunks.
No baby it's not cool that your 13 on facebook asking
for pic's of shirtless hunks.
Great it's time to sit down to dinner
Yes sure is great Father O Malley showed up.
Who better to chasethe boys and drink up the whiskey
screaming at the hat rack it's a sinner.
Um it's hard to make snow Angels on the concrete.
No your son isnt spoiled.
He's just wearing more than i make month with his
seven thousand dollar sneakers on his feet.
Grandma it's kiss under the mistletoe no tongue.
Ya think grandpa would have slowed on the cigs after getting put in the iron lung.
Great a blizzard has snowed us all in. yippie im bunking with Little Tommy tinkles thats the way the holiday goes.
I think freezing to death doesnt sound so bad.
Lord how Christmas blows.
Dec 5, 2010
Dec 5, 2010 at 11:00 AM UTC
The dream boy I want
or no, should I say the man
yes, he's a man, a grown one
his age left boyhood 8 years ago
but his demeanor says otherwise. (sometimes)
I already have him.
He's not very tall, only beat me by a slim
3 inches
and his crooked fingers from
breaking all them
fit nicely into mine
a broken jigsaw puzzle.
he wears a flat cap like an Irish newspaper boy
maybe it's because he's from potato famine land
His breath lingers of cigs
and alcohol
with his grade-A Alfie Neuman smile
and oh god, those everlasting deep dimples
how can i forget to mention those pacific ocean eyes
corazón de oro
everything leaves me in awe
take me
take me
take me
love me
we'd have the same initials if we married
but all i want now is just to be able to
touch
hold
caress
love
him.
Nov 1, 2014
Nov 1, 2014 at 11:25 PM UTC