"malboro" poems
Her voice is strained.
Her skin is fair.
Her ******* lay on the countertop.
I **** her until my thoughts stop.
She rejects the notion of love for all,
as she leans against my kitchen wall,
with a cigarette and an unbuttoned blouse-
she wants to be homeless in my house.
She keeps me in her necklace's locket,
and I keep her in the wallet in my pocket.
Her toes kiss the linoleum,
she walks like she's made of helium.
She mumbles that I taste like mint chocolate chip,
as she rubs against my hip.
Her breath smells like Malboro Lights,
and I hope she decides to stay the night.
Milky Ways and Vanilla Cakes,
she likes the way my body shakes,
as we lay and eat our troubles away.
Hurried words slow the day.
She asks me about my stretch marks and scars,
and if I've ever been hit by a car.
And I say no, but I've been hit by love before,
and it feels like getting your hand caught in a door.
Hurried smiles and bathroom stalls,
she likes the way my family never calls.
The words escape between her plump lips,
as my hand travels between her hips.
We move until we forget
that the world is moving faster.
Nov 16, 2014
Nov 16, 2014 at 12:20 PM UTC
Sitting in a bar.
A beer with perspiration.
Its raining outside.
Hear the shuffleboard shuffle.
Intoxicated poetics.
Sober state of mind.
Stools shrouded in mystery.
Double doors leading in.
Bartender’s creations. (chemical concoctions)
Saloon of slumlords and hipsters
Open mic night.
Hippie Howls.
Don’t worry we got this under control.
Malboro reds, cowboy killers.
Don’t spend you life wishing,
Spend it living.
Better yet, spend it drinking.
Liquid courage. (men becoming beasts)
Awkward rages.
The best is coming.
Shielding secret shame in this scene.
Hidden in a pint of pilsner.
Free thinkers in a haze of hops.
Lets get drunk.
Make shift graveyards on the walls.
Honoring the dead.
Rest in peace.
Nothing less, nothing more.
Old Heidelberg.
Before my time.
The stalls scrawled with graffiti.
For a good time call.
Scratched onto the stall.
“Spread love like butter on a hot bun”
Sherlock and Watson.
Bromance.
This is a bar of friends.
What is this bar?
Drunk off this atmosphere.
Window panes with neon signs.
Disillusioned.
Concealed.
Unfinished.
The moves fast and goes right by.
Springing forward without a shadow of a doubt.
Members of the Great Unwashed.
The signs of our time.
I think we’re going to split.
Can I get another drink?
One for the road.
Don’t cut me off quite yet.
Dec 19, 2012
Dec 19, 2012 at 1:26 PM UTC
I watch you breathe
as you sleep.
I'm afraid of what
you could mean
to me.
I study the stripes
on your shirt.
I think of all the
ways we'll flirt
and all the ways
we'll cry and I'll choke
with your hands
around my throat,
and Malboro Black
cigarette smoke
pouring down my
esophagus--
I wish I wasn't
so fond of us.
Love is for tin birds
in a flame cage.
Feb 20, 2015
Feb 20, 2015 at 1:04 AM UTC
The fire rages
throwing shadows across
the trash.
Pepsi, Coke, Malboro
Cowboy Killers.
Lightning strikes the midnight black pavement.
Please Lord,
keep us safe.
Is this how the world ends?
A puff of smoke
tainted with a subtle hint of
Budweiser.
Oh, the humanity!
The wound has grown too large.
A bullet whispering through the air,
landing in a young mans chest.
The world ends
surrounded in yellow caution tape.
Police Line:
Do Not Cross.
Here the guardians sit
on the worlds edge,
looking over at the chaos,
coated in yellow gold and
thick black smog.
Choking on past sins,
the curtain falls on this
vaudeville show.
The world doesn't end in fire
or ice,
but both.
Nov 19, 2013
Nov 19, 2013 at 2:29 PM UTC
I watched
I watched the gold flecks in your eyes turn to amber flames
I watched as your nectarine lips turned bloodred
and instead of a crooked smile there leaked a devious laugh
I watched you buy Malboro Blacks instead of Arizona green tea and a Kit-Kat
I watched you change into something you weren't
because you were me
you are me
and I thought I needed change
but I didn't change for the better
I changed
and now I can't change back
I'm in love with the demon I call myself
the dark, the twisted, the wrong
all these things that I've become
that I am
everything I never thought I'd be
I am
May 26, 2013
May 26, 2013 at 1:44 PM UTC
I watched
I watched the gold flecks in your eyes turn to amber flames
I watched as your nectarine lips turned bloodred
and instead of a crooked smile there leaked a devious laugh
I watched you buy Malboro Blacks instead of Arizona green tea and a Kit-Kat
I watched you change into something you weren't
because you were me
you are me
and I thought I needed change
but I didn't change for the better
I changed
and now I can't change back
I'm in love with the demon I call myself
the dark, the twisted, the wrong
all these things that I've become
that I am
everything I never thought I'd be
I am
May 26, 2013
May 26, 2013 at 1:43 PM UTC
you've always been
quick
to make friends
a social butterfly
but about you latest one,
I must question you , Why?
the more time you spend together
the more it ***** you in
you don't give a ****
that you've confessed
but I still have an shred of hope
that you'll give up that b.s.
I won't rat you out
make the decision on your own
yet so far deep affection is all you've shown
put down the malboro
that dreaded cigarette
i know you love attention
but its the cause of this dissention
please stop this terrible affection
Dec 5, 2010
Dec 5, 2010 at 3:05 PM UTC
Fur coats, Malboro smokes and fancy labels,
Fabricated faces closed off, segregated, false.
Pretending to be these people, these cloned plastic dolls.
Dark lips, skeletal figures and decadent glances,
Small waists, tall bodies and negative spaces
With hearts going nowhere, only lipstick traces.
You like to talk about people, about insignificant things
Not birds, or mountains or the potential life brings.
But just remember this: you will never tower over a mountain or grow any wings
Sep 11, 2018
Sep 11, 2018 at 9:01 PM UTC
We died many times when we first met.
They’d say electric. You provided the shock.
I was in need of repairs,
a faulty motor with a clogged-up engine,
stumbling through life
like a Slinky
yawning its bones
down the stairs.
You played me well at first,
fingers on my body,
twiddled me back into tune.
We’d die again.
When we kissed
I tasted Malboro and Merlot.
I fell right into it,
you like a glossy new balloon,
a chaos of colour on my lips
left me spellbound.
We’d die again.
Then the moment would pop.
You’d be standing with a pin.
Met your parents.
They noddingly-approved between
gulps of Heineken,
but I knew we wouldn’t last.
It fell apart, of course.
Somebody ruined the jigsaw.
Started hurling snowballs
at each other, words like razors
shredding through the air.
We’d die again.
A slammed door, gone
to the corner-shop for milk
in a huff.
An eff-you blurting
out from the phone.
The shock had gone.
I think I’m dying again.
Mar 26, 2017
Mar 26, 2017 at 10:57 AM UTC
Fourteen never tasted you
But I still need you like a crutch
Like something to keep me afloat when I feel like
I'm drowning
You see, the pretty, skinny girls
The ones who are allowed to fall apart
Pieces of you they exhale
Leave a solemn marker on this saddened planet.
You see, pretty skinny girls
The ones who suit anorexia so **** well
Wear a pretty shade of starving
And cry themselves to sleep within stark hospital walls
You see, pretty skinny girls
The ones who don't take up any space
Praised for their alternative music and long socks because
Hey.
At least they're alive.
Do you see how different we are.
We are the freedom seekers who never get justice
We are the ones that got left behind
We are the ones who's diagnosis didnt fit
Simply because our numbers didnt
Into the category of deathly
I need you like a crutch
Because nothing I have
and nothing I am
Quite equates to their criteria of needing help.
No matter how quietly i whisper to you under bedsheets
Or scream it out to my father, those three words
That are already hard enough to ******* admit
no
no.
They are still.
Still.
Not enough for you.
I need help.
Fourteen learned to roll cigarettes when she was seven
But made an oath to herself of never ever
but now she needs a salvation
It's like I've been fighting the ocean for long enough
Finally decided c i cant fight alone anymore
Yet the lifeguards only saved the one who was visible in the sea
Oblivious to the fact fourteen was on the brink
Of drowning in her own tears.
Fourteen looks up to the sky and counts the stars
Like marlboro lights she counts the flamed atmosphere
Wondering how life could get worse than this.
And she waits for something to come
something to save her
A helping hand or a speeding car
Lying in the middle of the road often carried that risk.
She's in love with him and its a ******* tragedy
She doesnt know if shes too much for him or not enough
She's being abused and its a ******* tragedy
She doesnt know if the bruises shes acquiring are just in her head
She's losing touch with her friends and its a ******* tragedy
She knows they arent paying attention.
So what more can she do
But dream of feeding herself to the ocean
A current in place of a current affair and
A slow and fulfulling peace.
Fourteen stares at the sky with the
soft ripples of sand beneath her feet
counts the stars like marlboro lights
takes a breath, and gives herself
One
more
chance
May 13, 2018
May 13, 2018 at 8:49 AM UTC
rombie sie drzewo, no,
a ja w szlak lasu szukania zapałki
by odpalić gróbego Malboro -
od tego mentol vogue;
Mickiewicz na Litwie a
Niemen na Ukrainie - komu
rynsztok u Turka? ha ha, no mnie!
gram nie tyka kilometra sąd,
to też ty, by była warta rewizja szkolna:
nein... pała!
May 15, 2016
May 15, 2016 at 4:58 PM UTC
Marlboro reds
Reds of Marlboro
Cancer sticks
To bring ease to one sorrows!!!
Jun 14, 2015
Jun 14, 2015 at 1:57 PM UTC