"rizla" poems - Hello Poetry

Iron bench, open sore dragon rock, three in score flesh on body, tortured soul arms high, in hell's hole Corner bulb, neon light drake hotel, second flight jolly pop, rizla plus open flame, behind the bus Broken fixtures, tully hat channel swimmer, at the bat blind alley, words of cuss dealer waving, in a fuss Grim reaper, boys in blue super bee, armored shrew ****** sips, swollen glands potpourri, on demand Black death, huddler's arch beat the cold, and summer parch toothless grin, ****** glare obituary, to be shared Dead of night, decontrol cheeva tar, black coal east central, chinatown mr. freeze, is coming down Foot soldier, skidder row chicken feed, and white blow silver spoon, casted hand demons surface, on demand Frantic sounds, below the glass poison waiting, to be passed crack pipes, over coat bodies flat, begin to float Gospel sounds, from union square friends gather, deep in prayer guardian angels, now deployed thornton park, without a void Covenant house, in holy charm welcomes all, with open arms salvation spreads, on chapel row kindness that, cannot be sold

0

Oct 14, 2017

Oct 14, 2017 at 5:36 PM UTC

ck-baker

Pidgeon Park

Iron bench, open sore dragon rock, three in score flesh on body, tortured soul arms high, in hell's hole Corner bulb, neon light drake hotel, second flight jolly pop, rizla plus open flame, behind the bus Broken fixtures, tully hat channel swimmer, at the bat blind alley, words of cuss dealer waving, in a fuss Grim reaper, boys in blue super bee, armored shrew ****** sips, swollen glands potpourri, on demand Black death, huddler's arch beat the cold, and summer parch toothless grin, ****** glare obituary, to be shared Dead of night, decontrol cheeva tar, black coal east central, chinatown mr. freeze, is coming down Foot soldier, skidder row chicken feed, and white blow silver spoon, casted hand demons surface, on demand Frantic sounds, below the glass poison waiting, to be passed crack pipes, over coat bodies flat, begin to float Gospel sounds, from union square friends gather, deep in prayer guardian angels, now deployed thornton park, without a void Covenant house, in holy charm welcomes all, with open arms salvation spreads, on chapel row kindness that, cannot be sold

40

She is like an indie film played backwards, just a bunch of beautiful pictures. And her eyes roll like rizla between the italian mans fingers. She smokes with pouted lips, as if ready to kiss her lover. She looks the same when he pulls on her hair and glides his tongue over the skin of her neck. And she smiles the same smile when his teeth graize her ******* Her eyes also roll when his hands hold onto her waist and she remembers the lipstick stain she left on the end of her cigarette. She leaves the same stain on the rim of his .... forefinger. ‘I don’t know why I like you so much.’ He whispers into her curls. ‘It’s because I remind you of hash and tobacco.’ She replies.

0

Dec 5, 2018

Dec 5, 2018 at 5:32 AM UTC

Bananapoetry

Girls get me high

She is like an indie film played backwards, just a bunch of beautiful pictures. And her eyes roll like rizla between the italian mans fingers. She smokes with pouted lips, as if ready to kiss her lover. She looks the same when he pulls on her hair and glides his tongue over the skin of her neck. And she smiles the same smile when his teeth graize her ******* Her eyes also roll when his hands hold onto her waist and she remembers the lipstick stain she left on the end of her cigarette. She leaves the same stain on the rim of his .... forefinger. ‘I don’t know why I like you so much.’ He whispers into her curls. ‘It’s because I remind you of hash and tobacco.’ She replies.

9

If the Scots get independence will we get better **** I'd vote for that. Maybe the 'silent majority' are like ... hospitals, schools, fish, whisky, natural energy blah blah The good folk in Scotland have been drip-fed the worst **** in history: coated in chemicals bath rinsed molasses spare car tyre plastic flotsam *** seriously No wonder - Bammed (right up) Givin it Havin it Lovin it is why bands & DJs Love to Play: 'up for it' 'Hey MoJo's share some of that MTV love' anything that's called Council Hash and accepted as the norm reeks of class politics; ah they won't mind the **** end o that they're the Scots The Scottish Government should embrace a new Scotland and the people in it We want lots of things: one of which is better **** Crime will drop: - sniffing car tyres for a hit - sales of Buckfast will fund the entire South East of England. Scotland could lead the world in upcycling as Rizla fails to meet demand. Our days would be so radically different; auto flexi time carbon neutral trams with comfy seats systematically mathematically go faster than walking: a mode of choice I'd vote for that ...

0

Jul 30, 2013

Jul 30, 2013 at 8:34 PM UTC

DBeard

Rant 0719

If the Scots get independence will we get better **** I'd vote for that. Maybe the 'silent majority' are like ... hospitals, schools, fish, whisky, natural energy blah blah The good folk in Scotland have been drip-fed the worst **** in history: coated in chemicals bath rinsed molasses spare car tyre plastic flotsam *** seriously No wonder - Bammed (right up) Givin it Havin it Lovin it is why bands & DJs Love to Play: 'up for it' 'Hey MoJo's share some of that MTV love' anything that's called Council Hash and accepted as the norm reeks of class politics; ah they won't mind the **** end o that they're the Scots The Scottish Government should embrace a new Scotland and the people in it We want lots of things: one of which is better **** Crime will drop: - sniffing car tyres for a hit - sales of Buckfast will fund the entire South East of England. Scotland could lead the world in upcycling as Rizla fails to meet demand. Our days would be so radically different; auto flexi time carbon neutral trams with comfy seats systematically mathematically go faster than walking: a mode of choice I'd vote for that ...

64

I don't take sleeping pills I drink a glass of wine I smack my arm and fill my veins just to pass the time And then I'm rolling down the hills and then I roll a joint a smile is painted on my face for a life without a point I ****** by an empty fireplace and she was cold and ill she cried that she would catch her death so I burnt my heating bill I ring up all my women write letters to my men invite them all into my bed then make them leave again I go out every Saturday for whiskey and motel ***** sometimes scotch and virgins who weep when I give them up When I'm dry on rizla leaves I'll smoke Corinthians 4-7 because I don't know of any love to get me into heaven ******* keeps me up at night but I get off on pressure soon I'll be back for my ***** queen and my life of simple pleasure

0

Mar 24, 2015

Mar 24, 2015 at 6:08 PM UTC

ep-mason

hedonist

I don't take sleeping pills I drink a glass of wine I smack my arm and fill my veins just to pass the time And then I'm rolling down the hills and then I roll a joint a smile is painted on my face for a life without a point I ****** by an empty fireplace and she was cold and ill she cried that she would catch her death so I burnt my heating bill I ring up all my women write letters to my men invite them all into my bed then make them leave again I go out every Saturday for whiskey and motel ***** sometimes scotch and virgins who weep when I give them up When I'm dry on rizla leaves I'll smoke Corinthians 4-7 because I don't know of any love to get me into heaven ******* keeps me up at night but I get off on pressure soon I'll be back for my ***** queen and my life of simple pleasure

28

Teatime done with I went with Helen across the bomb site off Meadow Row and crossed the New Kent Road to the ABC cinema and along side the dark alleys dim lights damp stink she just behind me clutching her doll Battered Betty by one arm was that a rat? she half said and screamed could be I said you see them at night down here she clutched my arm with her free hand Battered Betty swaying behind her what we looking for? she asked cigarette ends I said why? What do you want them for? she asked make up a smoke with Rizla *** papers I said you smoke old tobacco? she said put it in your mouth? If I get enough tobacco sure I said looking around the ground yuk she said sometimes I find dropped coins I found a cuff link once silver it was but one ain't much good unless you're a one armed man I said does your mum know you smoke? God no I said she has enough to worry about without me adding to it she frowned clutched my arm tighter well you shouldn't smoke she said you're only 9 like me and I would never smoke and our children when we have them won't smoke either she said she looked at Battered Betty steely I pushed her words and images out of my mind for the moment I saw a semi-smoked Senior Service on the ground by the wall and stooped to pick it up it's got lipstick on it Helen said distastefully it's has a woman's spittle inside I looked at her disapproving gaze and threw it away yes you're right I said men's spittle's best she frowned darkly ok I said not really I just jest another time maybe I thought taking her deeper into the dark and rats and damp stink of drains remembering it all it sinking into my 9 year brain.

0

Mar 18, 2014

Mar 18, 2014 at 6:41 AM UTC

terry-collett

HELEN AND BUTT-ENDS.

Teatime done with I went with Helen across the bomb site off Meadow Row and crossed the New Kent Road to the ABC cinema and along side the dark alleys dim lights damp stink she just behind me clutching her doll Battered Betty by one arm was that a rat? she half said and screamed could be I said you see them at night down here she clutched my arm with her free hand Battered Betty swaying behind her what we looking for? she asked cigarette ends I said why? What do you want them for? she asked make up a smoke with Rizla *** papers I said you smoke old tobacco? she said put it in your mouth? If I get enough tobacco sure I said looking around the ground yuk she said sometimes I find dropped coins I found a cuff link once silver it was but one ain't much good unless you're a one armed man I said does your mum know you smoke? God no I said she has enough to worry about without me adding to it she frowned clutched my arm tighter well you shouldn't smoke she said you're only 9 like me and I would never smoke and our children when we have them won't smoke either she said she looked at Battered Betty steely I pushed her words and images out of my mind for the moment I saw a semi-smoked Senior Service on the ground by the wall and stooped to pick it up it's got lipstick on it Helen said distastefully it's has a woman's spittle inside I looked at her disapproving gaze and threw it away yes you're right I said men's spittle's best she frowned darkly ok I said not really I just jest another time maybe I thought taking her deeper into the dark and rats and damp stink of drains remembering it all it sinking into my 9 year brain.

116

Beasts feasting on prey... dishing on the words of Kings who wouldn’t fall to their knees and obey. I could almost hear their young play, as the mother watches with a haunted conscious of a young Fay. Come hither, and perhaps stretch your hands and catch a fire in a desired rizla, coz come winter, these words could be just as banned and burned by some sinner. A barefoot impaired but reaching for that stepping stone far from a mile, where manhood is shred but brothers keep breaching and stretching jail bars to a smile. Singing psalms of liberation in the blazing Sun of the plantations, stone-bashing patience and building railway stations never brought any justice or emancipation to the nation. Hence, Brothers found sense in taking a chance for the people, using pens from bribed fences illegal, and the library as a class for lessons of the Eagle. Unseen revolutionary pages and books smuggled through visitations, vice or versa... Brothers battered to solitary cages for sharing books of the struggle through imitations, Life of a hustler. Many of them died, because many others spied for the other side, despite loyalty. I guess with every Field Hero outside comes a yield ***** inside royalty. Retrospect, read and see what Malcolm reprimanded fallacy like the Big Six for, then introspect your creed and if you believe, welcome this reminded policy like the 46664...

0

Jul 29, 2014

Jul 29, 2014 at 3:57 AM UTC

kabelo

Banned and Burned

Beasts feasting on prey... dishing on the words of Kings who wouldn’t fall to their knees and obey. I could almost hear their young play, as the mother watches with a haunted conscious of a young Fay. Come hither, and perhaps stretch your hands and catch a fire in a desired rizla, coz come winter, these words could be just as banned and burned by some sinner. A barefoot impaired but reaching for that stepping stone far from a mile, where manhood is shred but brothers keep breaching and stretching jail bars to a smile. Singing psalms of liberation in the blazing Sun of the plantations, stone-bashing patience and building railway stations never brought any justice or emancipation to the nation. Hence, Brothers found sense in taking a chance for the people, using pens from bribed fences illegal, and the library as a class for lessons of the Eagle. Unseen revolutionary pages and books smuggled through visitations, vice or versa... Brothers battered to solitary cages for sharing books of the struggle through imitations, Life of a hustler. Many of them died, because many others spied for the other side, despite loyalty. I guess with every Field Hero outside comes a yield ***** inside royalty. Retrospect, read and see what Malcolm reprimanded fallacy like the Big Six for, then introspect your creed and if you believe, welcome this reminded policy like the 46664...

1

The mess we leave, We make our mark Upon this place Where we've been left. The clatter the clutter, The bits and bobs, A crumbled leaf, An empty box Poured into all These little things: The passage of Our life laid bare. I have measured my life In rizla packs and coffee cups, Worn out soles and washing up; Empty vessels filled by my touch Transfigured, transformed I watch them turn Into players on a stage, Into words on a page But these objects have been touched before In a life they lived, back when Once they sang another's song And soon they'll sing again Unplanned symphonies composed By the dragging of our toes The soles of our feet Are honest poets Our footprints: Their most sincere verse.

0

Dec 17, 2013

Dec 17, 2013 at 11:41 AM UTC

daniel-4

Footprints

The mess we leave, We make our mark Upon this place Where we've been left. The clatter the clutter, The bits and bobs, A crumbled leaf, An empty box Poured into all These little things: The passage of Our life laid bare. I have measured my life In rizla packs and coffee cups, Worn out soles and washing up; Empty vessels filled by my touch Transfigured, transformed I watch them turn Into players on a stage, Into words on a page But these objects have been touched before In a life they lived, back when Once they sang another's song And soon they'll sing again Unplanned symphonies composed By the dragging of our toes The soles of our feet Are honest poets Our footprints: Their most sincere verse.

30

Heavy bearing the day in the city of distress, getting back to my place, in my head there's a mess, tough to go to sleep, so I stick to my flask, close up a rizla and take care of my skunk. Every one racing up - for their personal clap-clap, running through busy streets with no time to ghasp, pale and invisible - modern day ghost. City of kebabs vs beans on toast. Sunshine's not much more than a shadow from the past, people puking on toga on a late night bus, need the medicine - to stop living in a rush, in this massive brain-washing our life's running past. I remember the food, I remember the taste, I remember the beach and I wanna reframe, I remember the nature, I'm afraid I'll forget, I remember my life but there's no time for that. --- 9-to-5 ghospel, first-world rap, call it that, blues for who's got answers, money for the rich **** I've no real complain, but it rains over my reason, living in the city that's got only one season. I need clearing up, fresh air from this prison, needa breath something that don't smell like poison, needa look outside at the end of the day, and know that there is something beyond the grey. Been staring for hours at an off-licence shelf, browsing for nothing, maybe looking for myself, lobotomised by the lifeless lights, the only noise: the cars outside. Nothing and everything - just floating around a party on a boat, a rave underground, the late night workers, the drop of a pound, every night is the longest, every day passes by. Lot of money goes wasted but nothing to buy, This city is the woman that I'll never betray. This city commands, you shut up and obey. This city is the white, the black and the grey.

0

Apr 22, 2014

Apr 22, 2014 at 8:37 PM UTC

minddiver

London

Heavy bearing the day in the city of distress, getting back to my place, in my head there's a mess, tough to go to sleep, so I stick to my flask, close up a rizla and take care of my skunk. Every one racing up - for their personal clap-clap, running through busy streets with no time to ghasp, pale and invisible - modern day ghost. City of kebabs vs beans on toast. Sunshine's not much more than a shadow from the past, people puking on toga on a late night bus, need the medicine - to stop living in a rush, in this massive brain-washing our life's running past. I remember the food, I remember the taste, I remember the beach and I wanna reframe, I remember the nature, I'm afraid I'll forget, I remember my life but there's no time for that. --- 9-to-5 ghospel, first-world rap, call it that, blues for who's got answers, money for the rich **** I've no real complain, but it rains over my reason, living in the city that's got only one season. I need clearing up, fresh air from this prison, needa breath something that don't smell like poison, needa look outside at the end of the day, and know that there is something beyond the grey. Been staring for hours at an off-licence shelf, browsing for nothing, maybe looking for myself, lobotomised by the lifeless lights, the only noise: the cars outside. Nothing and everything - just floating around a party on a boat, a rave underground, the late night workers, the drop of a pound, every night is the longest, every day passes by. Lot of money goes wasted but nothing to buy, This city is the woman that I'll never betray. This city commands, you shut up and obey. This city is the white, the black and the grey.

37

She rolls the paper with a kind of ease: like a silk dress falling on the eve of her skin; or the delicate sips taken from her glass, delicately held between curled spread fingers. Then maybe as tongue presses to the lining, it looks as though rice-paper become lips her kisses sealing this tube filament mantled in her smile, lighting up the room.

0

Feb 18, 2014

Feb 18, 2014 at 11:56 PM UTC

conor-letham

Rizla Kisses

She rolls the paper with a kind of ease: like a silk dress falling on the eve of her skin; or the delicate sips taken from her glass, delicately held between curled spread fingers. Then maybe as tongue presses to the lining, it looks as though rice-paper become lips her kisses sealing this tube filament mantled in her smile, lighting up the room.

16

Reflecting on directions taken shadows floating in the glass scribbling notes on Rizla paper this like everything will pass.

0

Dec 25, 2013

Dec 25, 2013 at 3:03 PM UTC

john-edward-smallshaw

Oddments

Reflecting on directions taken shadows floating in the glass scribbling notes on Rizla paper this like everything will pass.

4

rolling a tulip. gone. eyes soft. heads nod. walls of alabaster layered cave hazy bodies litter rave. i am folded: foldin rizla blue first a pocket by lick the glue. toast some bensons add in some resin. filled and build over tube. sweet trick, the petal, dude. small tribe makes the ground that the tulip travels around

0

Apr 21, 2016

Apr 21, 2016 at 4:56 AM UTC

mrquipty

420 flower

rolling a tulip. gone. eyes soft. heads nod. walls of alabaster layered cave hazy bodies litter rave. i am folded: foldin rizla blue first a pocket by lick the glue. toast some bensons add in some resin. filled and build over tube. sweet trick, the petal, dude. small tribe makes the ground that the tulip travels around

13

She throws me a kiss like she's blowing out candles. I smoke long into the night, there's a party at Everley mansions, tensions recriminations which we'll blame on the ***** She flickers like lightning and strikes I lick the Rizla and build a new smoke,, looking long into the candle light waiting for the day.

0

Apr 18, 2016

Apr 18, 2016 at 4:33 PM UTC

john-edward-smallshaw

Fifteen points

She throws me a kiss like she's blowing out candles. I smoke long into the night, there's a party at Everley mansions, tensions recriminations which we'll blame on the ***** She flickers like lightning and strikes I lick the Rizla and build a new smoke,, looking long into the candle light waiting for the day.

12