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time marches forward reality's fire consumes- dreams go up in smoke © 2018 by Mark T. All rights reserved ***Poetry notes:4/26/2018 Poetry form: Senryu
When I was a child I used to wonder why the veterans in town didn’t like the fireworks on the 4th of July. I thought that’s what they fought for, the freedom to make things go boom.
I’ve been addicted to smoking, since before I was born The ecstasy of inhalation I can hardly catch my breath Call it the curse of the addicted Unable to stop no no matter how much I may want to
The smell is something that stays with you forever. The smoke is long gone, but it left a solemn promise. That stays with you forever-- when you look at the ovens, it leaves a solemn promise
You put a hole in my heart from the tip of that burning cigar in your mouth.
inhale exhale it's twilight and you've lit my flammable heart, created an aching kindle in my soul. i feel your tabbaco lips on this early somber night, my hands are hesitant to reminisce the warmth of you.
I'm afraid of change Afraid of not knowing What the next person Will be like with me Afraid of what they Might think about me Will they leave me Empty, alone, vulnerable Writing a poem in
I love the way a flame dances;Slowly and gracefully moving aboutWrapping itself among the wick and emberMelting the air that we breathAnd how it does it’s gentle danceIt brings everything else to move with it
my brain smokes and i ride the wind or drift by the galaxy past oblivion the old man sits there in a way hes always been today i think
"Gather around and let me tell you a story," The Fiddler sang, watching children gather around him. Puffs of smoke lifted up into the night still air,
Smoke a toke and don't choke.Inhale, let that peppery smoke into your lungs.Exhale and let it out; one hit is all it takes toHave you looking at the world from a different point of view.
Do not fall in love with me. For I will show you movies, Read you books, And sway with you to music. I will poison your favorite places to escape. And when you decide enough is enough.
knee deep in your fire and choking on ashes. my words are spilling out - i am spitting out grey smoke. insides charred from the pain you inflict, black. poisoned muzzle, clenching jaw
The smoke from his cigarette slowly left the ember end into the air, disappearing and only leaving a lingering smell. That's when I realized it was like our relationship. We keep drifting apart from each other,
words i cannot quite grasp float around my head like secondhand smoke. (never touching my lips, but killing me nonetheless.)
The sky is eerily starless tonight And it is like the universe senses that I am not ready to see the stars Hidden in the darkness I am waiting for the clock to strike twelve And for you to admit that you were wrong
A flickering orange against the cold black night, On a winding road guided by yellow headlights. The moon’s distant glow seems but a fantasy As beautiful, troubled and as distant as he.
My stage is made of concrete. My audience is the stars. My play is called Life, and it just became funny. I sit backstage right, the audience has a full view of my profile and I light a cigarette.
A bar The travelers Drooping shoulders of men Hazy clouds of secondhand smoke Homebound
The stinging of my lungs as I inhale in The smell of burning paper and fumes fill my nose The smoke disappears before my eye, becoming one with the air around it
I'm breathing in And I'm already addicted again Your love is a drug I inhaled But now I'm breathing, Hard off of your love People notice the past me again
Prude. Censuring. Perfect little girl. Am I a prude when I dislike foul words? And promiscuity is not something I adore: But how can I be perfect if you claim that I’m a churl?
on the corner of Madison and Wells, a ghost with a gray cotton tee and tattered jeans saw my red lace dress and started deer hunting. he wasn’t timid, only lanky, and gripped the ground
You're like a cigarette.
Whisping through the air, like beautiful strands of hair, white as a ghost at a haunting, floating in the wind never taunting, a dirty little secret it tries to keep, but everyone knows it likes to creep,
Since he was nine years old, slowly destroying his lungs.
Cigarettes. I hate them. I hate that people smoke them and I hate what they do to people.
I've see them smoke their cigarettes some almost a pack a day. And watch them give breath to the very thing, that will take their breath away.
The city is painted with the half lifeless bodies of what we once were wasted in every sense of the word
The unknown So I find myself sitting on a sofa in the middle of nowhere At house in the middle of nowhere With people I don't know in the middle of nowhere Contemplating where my place is
Why couldn’t you love me?
When you kiss me, I scream intoyour mouth as hard as I canso every time you puffa cigarette, youmight think of me.
Why does she keep coughing? Its like she can't breath or something. But I know she can breath Because if she couldn't breath She wouldn't be able to smoke!
Pu Puff Puff Pass *Smoking motion* Pu Puff Puff Pass *Smoking motion* It's like a jungle sometimes so I just roll that Tropic Thunder Roll that Tropic Thunder I stay high to keep from going under
Take a drag off that cigarette, That is a decision you will regret. Tap excess ashes with your finger, As the smoke begins to linger.
“Wherever we sprang from in the first place, that's where we're headed now.
Sometimes, I mistake deadly toxic smoke.... For beautiful clouds
One breath, two breaths, you stop;
His voice came out as smoke. You could feel the heat from his throat. The crowd lit up as he sang Little candles, they looked like, lower than the stage. His breath burned the microphone,
I found him on the corner of Central Ave. He just stood there smoking his cigarette Making little white ghost with each exhale Creating more clouds to shade the earth He knows I'm watching, he's no fool
DEAR HOMOSEXUAL.The clock's ticked through at least six months time since our lips last exchanged breaths of clear minded humor, our hands grasping at the promises we never intended to keep isn't it funny how the mutters of the masses change the m
I have an addiction My fix being these words That I scribble For any and all to see My fix is not injected Nor smoked, For my instrument of intoxication Is My Pen
Smoke, Rolling off the tongue, The taste of blackened ash. Endorphins filling my brain, A long sigh, Sparks burning my thigh.
I'm feeling high tonight. Not sure what it's from Could it be these pills? Maybe these cheap thrills. I can't be sure. Where's my waldo? Is he in my dream? My friends, I don't know.
Never smoke it makes you choke. Your clothes will never smell like soap. Your teeth are brown You used to clown around. Now you smoking all that stuff, And every time I see you, you’re taking a puff.