Knew The Smoke (To Be A Prayer)
he said:
'i went four years
without a lover,
trying to do the right thing...
then one day i stood up,
packed my few belongings,
and walked off...
in search of...'
i watched him as he rolled
a cigarette, his gnarled hands
sure and steady...
stared at the light in his eyes,
and the doors...
only he knew what
was behind them.
bought him a cup of coffee,
and shook his hand,
no need for words...
wondered if i'd met Jesus,
or the devil,
or if i was looking
into a mirror!
each path, each call,
is different... each heart,
pretty much the same.
i watched him light his cigarette,
and knew the smoke
to be a prayer!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Jesus Walk
The other day I was weeping
The tears kept coming to my eyes
But then I looked out my window
As though pleaded, to look outside.
But my tears just kept falling
Caused by the worries and world outside
As the hate and sin kept growing
From which, no one can hide.
So then I brushed the world aside
As compelled to search the sky
And then; I shook in wonder,
For I saw Jesus, walking at sunrise.
He was walking with out stretched hands
Though reaching for every woman and man
And I, didnt make a sound,
For I was lost, and never found.
I watched him walk with such concern
As He watched the world below
He walked with such shame and pity
My teardrops, began to grow.
And as I watched as Jesus walked
I knew then the Lord did care
No matter how I felt,
I knew Jesus would always be there.
And as Jesus kept walking
I saw sorrow on his saddened face
Was it though for His children and world
Or was it, for their future and fate.
So I just kept watching Jesus
As he looked, and searched the world
Then suddenly; He just disappeared
As though, He was never here.
So then I closed my window
And fell to my knees to pray and cry
Though this time not for the world or me,
But for Jesus, who walked at sunrise.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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Knock, Knock
Lord Jesus stood there at my door
And twice He knocked then stayed.
It was my choice, I could ignore
And that's why I delayed.
He walked away.
I watched Him leave
Then got on with my life,
To sin like others who deceive
And cause all sorts of strife
Lord Jesus stood there at my door
And I watched Him inside.
I knew He knew my every flaw,
Not one could be denied.
I stood my ground, He left again.
I let Him walk away.
I struggled every now and then
With fears of Judgment Day.
My bank account looked mighty fine
As fifteen years passed by.
To think that all that cash was mine.
How come my soul felt dry?
Lord Jesus stood there at my door,
With fear I turned the key.
And simply stared at Christ with awe.
You see, He died for me.
Lord Jesus entered as my friend,
Yet also set me straight.
My useless life came to an end,
God's love to celebrate.
I sighed I'd made Him wait so long.
Those years I can't restore.
I tell you this, you can't go wrong
If you open the door.
poem by Denis Martindale
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When I Am Alone
now i learned
what they want me to understand
when i am alone
at least i need someone to talk to
someone who listens
and when i am as silent as cigarette stick
lighted
at least something knows
where the smoke may go
i smoke now
but not because i like it
it is a necessity
the smoke at least talks to me
and the light in the cigarette
gives me the eye of the
cinder
a word of light
a comfort of flame
in the dark
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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First Kiss
Blind dates were not the norm for you, yet it worked out that way...
So I dressed up in all things new in hopes I looked O.K.
And so it was that we first met, shook hands, all smiles and grins
Still asking what the Fates had set as our blind date begins...
The restaurant turned out first class - our meal was well prepared.
Your finger paused, caressed your glass... I wondered if you cared.
You laughed at jokes made up in haste and ate contentedly...
The wine was excellent to taste and mellowed just like me...
I walked you home beneath the stars that twinkled like your eyes -
In time we knew this date would pass though it had been so nice!
Outside your door I shook your hand yet sighed so sad to part!
I prayed that you could understand the hopes within my heart!
You turned to go, my heart stood still - I breathed not in or out!
Then you turned back! We shared the thrill and kissed away all doubt!
Thus love was born, made manifest... acknowledged by our lips
And by the way we felt so blessed - hearts, toes and fingertips!
When I walked home I walked on air! My mind still in a dream!
I thought you were beyond compare - we're now a kissing team!
From that first kiss we've seen love grow to blossom like the rose...
God gave us light then watched it glow, recorded now in prose...
poem by Denis Martindale
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Shared Cigarette
O’Brien held the cigarette tight
Between forefinger and thumb
He placed it between lips and
Inhaled. Danny Davis wanted
A drag too and Eddie Sutcliffe
Stood like a young pup waiting
For his chew on the bone. They
Watched the end of the cigarette
Flare up in the early winter cold
Eddie rubbed his hands together
In anticipation. You kept an eye
Out for school prefects or any
Odd teacher who might happen
To venture forth into the school
Playground. I liberated this from
My dad’s packet, O’Brien said
Taking the cigarette from his lips
And passing it over to Davis who
Took a quick drag then gave it to
Sutcliffe who held it like a girl
Having her first kiss. No one was
Coming, so you had a quick drag
After Eddie had left drips of dribble
And inhaled the smoke. O’Brien
Made a comment about some
Girl he’d had or so he said the
Night before. Davis guffawed
Loudly, but Sutcliffe stood there
Opened mouthed while you
Half smiled and wondered if it
Was true about the girl’s arse
Or just some smutty joke
poem by Terry Collett
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I Dreamt Of My Father Last Night
I dreamt of my father last night
with an indifferent boy to his height
out from a hazy meadow into my sight
on his face was this grave grin
as he paused a little for me to join
while the boy looked away in vague pain
I might have been curious who he was
but father took out his cigarette case
that exuded its old taciturn wince
humbly I took the cigarette
though we both had long since quit
and leaned forward for father to light it
somehow my rusty puff snuffed out father’s light
the only inexplicable one for the night
while my apologetically lit cigarette was alright
I handed it over for father to light his cigarette
which he puffed hard but could not manage it
even if the two were closely joint tête-à-tête
knowing it was a dream I did not want daylight
in that haziness my cigarette was only thing alight
I waited and waited for father to get his light —
poem by Dr Ronnie Bai
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The Meeting At Noon
They met at a coffee house
every day at noon.
They chose the same table
in the back of the room.
The aroma of the coffee
filled the air.
And while they smelled it
they continued to stare.
How was it, they wondered
that life could be
filled with remorse
that never let them be?
She, with a husband
whose mind was gone,
he, with a wife
whose body was gone,
They met each day
just to hold hands
and talk about
life's harsh demands.
They could not leave.
They were not that kind
but this meeting at noon
became the focus of their mind.
He watched her cry
and touched her face.
He knew her tears
he could not erase.
She watched him die
a little each day.
They prayed for the smell
of the coffee to stay.
and bring them peace
from these minutes at noon.
She stirred his coffee
and licked the spoon.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Wish my pain was a cigarette
Wish my pain was a cigarette,
It would have been touch by you
Wish my pain was a cigarette,
It would have had the comfort of your hand
Wish my pain was a cigarette,
I would have been on your lips
Wish my pain was a cigarette,
It would have been consumed with time
Wish my pain was a cigarette,
It would have ended in an ashtray
Wish my pain was a cigarette,
It would have been thrown away
poem by Secret Shal
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9 Miles On A Dirty Futon
I spent nine miles with her.
in a cheap apartment.
Boxed wine and cheeses with exotic sounding names.
Eaten on a blanket on the floor as we had no table.
we had no couch,
we had no television.
But we had music.
At night we would lay on a futon matress
that layed on the floor.
The streetlight outside the bedroom window playing shadows across sections of her.
First her eyes were lit, the rest of her awash in shadows,
then,
when she turned,
her mouth was visible,
but her eyes were shadowed.
A breast, a thigh, her hair all illuminated
then darkened
according to her movments.
Sometimes she would lie on her back and light a cigarette.
Her whole face would light with the flash of the lighter,
like hand held lightining,
then darken again.
We would talk for hours on that futon,
I don't remember what was said...
I remember her in pieces of light and shadow.
When she smoked the light would turn the smoke in to a slow
languid serpent
escaping from her body through her mouth and nose.
I have never seen anyone smoke like that before or since.
Her face half lit by the streetlight.
She would speak and the words would drift out of her
entwined with the smoke.
She smoked like Garbo.
slow and seductive.
9 years with her and all my memories are of shadows, soft sodium streetlights, and orange cigarette glow.
9 years with her and all I remember are the lights and shadows
across her body.
On that futon matress
on the floor.
poem by Brevet Wilson
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Serene Saturday
Serene Saturday
It's Saturday
and I’m listening to the football
on the radio
It's Saturday
and I’m listening to the football
while slurping my coffee
and having a cigarette
It's not my team who are playing
they play tomorrow
I'm on the brink of falling asleep
but I’m fighting it
My leg is twitching, must be the coffee
I’ve drank too much of it today
Meanwhile my cigarette has burned out in the ashtray
The football has just finished as I wake up,
the classified results are being read out
I light up a cigarette and lie back with my eyes closed
and I remember my dream, 'I’ve had weirder' I think to myself
taking a drag of my cigarette
I wonder, should I get some beer tonight? Decisions, decisions,
yeah, I probably will, maybe cider, yeah, beer and cider...yeah
Andrew Matthews
01/05/2002
16: 26: 01
poem by Andrew Matthews
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I'm Sick Of It
I'm sick, sick, sick of cigarette addiction
I'm sick of movies and their dishonest depiction
That smoking is glamorous, sophisticated and cool
When what it really is is something that rules
The cigarette addict from morning to night
And all the hours in between, they can never take flight
From the constant nagging fear that they must inhale the fumes
Of a deadly poison that will lead them to their doom
A cigarette addict can barely do a thing
Without a cigarette, it's got them on a string
They have to smoke it now, it just cannot wait
And then, another and another, they've really taken the bait
A cigarette addict is as helpless as a lamb
On a frosty hillside with no mother to keep it warm
Their mind is so confused that they actually believe
A cigarette is their saviour, they are so deceived
(Sydney, Australia - 2003)
poem by Alessandra Liverani
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I Watched
Pediatric E.R, R.I.P 11/5/09 (Volunteer work can be tough)
I watched…
A heartbreaking scene today
But I couldn’t take
my eyes away
I watched …
I feel shamed to say
I watched
a little girl die today
I watched …
an anguished EMT cry
I watched nurses drawn faces
I watched a little girl die
I watched …
Just outside the doors
The Frantic CPR applied
With frantic, futile force
I watched
Her mother fearfully enter the room
To be seated by her side
To share in her impending doom
I watched
A strange, unsettling scene
Upturned faces as if in prayer
hopefully watch the vitals screen
I watched
A life dissipate and fade
On a bed
That I had newly made
I watched…
At least a half hour they tried
With wondrous machines, marvelous medicines
Yet still, this little girl died
I watched…
Then I heard a small whimpering cry!
But It was only the mother
As she saw her child die
I watched…
Her arms outspread, her mom at her side
Young staring eyes so angelicly appealing
I watched, sadly watched….then I also cried.
poem by David Whalen
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Purple Heart
As I sit and wait
I can't rest my head
I light my fire
as I smoke another cigarette
your want everything
but you break apart
there's no compromise
inside your purple heart
inside your purple heart
iside your purple
inside your purple heart
I smoke another cigarette
inhale it into my lungs
yes it takes my life away
and then it turns around
oh
song performed by by Puddle Of Mudd from Abrasive
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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If We Cant Have You
Hang a picture up on your wall
Tighten all the nails so it dont fall
In this picture, could have been a picture of my face
Something painful, went and took its place
If he cant have you, guess that no one else will
Watch him think a while, smoke a cigarette and smile as I frown
If he cant have you, guess that no one else will
Watch him think a while, smoke a cigarette and smile as I frown
Drink your coffee in the morning,
And at night, go and drink your beer
All along you dont feel so welcome here
And I walk by, and you steer clear
You always said, itd come passionate here
Dont like what you see, you dont like what you hear
If he cant have you, guess that no one else will
Watch him think a while, smoke a cigarette and smile as I frown
If he cant have you, guess that no one else will
Watch him think a while, smoke a cigarette and smile as I frown
song performed by by Whiskeytown
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Julie and You in Trafalgar Square
Julie sat on one
of the fountain walls
in Trafalgar Square
and lit a cigarette
she looked about her
as if she were onto
something harder
as if she had some one
looking at her
from some secret place
you gazed at her
unused to seeing her
not in her hospital
dressing gown
and slippered feet
her hair had been brushed neat
and makeup applied
and she said
I was picked up here
some months back
by some guy
who wanted sex
he thought
I was a pro
and the things
he asked for
god that was the worse
and with that
she paused
and stared at the Square
at the people
and the pigeons
and she inhaled deep
and then exhaled
blowing the smoke
out of the corner
of her mouth
like you'd seen done
in the movies
what did you say
to the guy
who picked you up
and what did he want
you to do?
she looked at you
her eyes scanning
your features
and then leaning closer
she said
I told him I wasn't
a whore and to go off
some place else
you watched her fingers
holding the cigarette
the way she held it
between her fingers
as if it was some
precious item she'd found
what did he want you to do?
you asked
he wanted sex
in all my orifices
she whispered
before inhaling again
the cigarette was clamped
between her lips
and she rubbed
her fingers
on her jeans
she screwed up her eyes
against the smoke
my grandfather said
if it wasn't for whores
more women
would be raped
and attacked
you said
that guy was a creep
he smelt of strong aftershave
and body odour
she said
what a combination
you said
she stumped
the cigarette butt
onto the wall
and flicked it
across the Square
let's go and view the art
in the Gallery behind us
she said
and you followed her
to the Portrait Gallery
her buttocks swaying
like some ship at sea
the jeans tight
and clinging
and across the Square
church bells were pulled
and were ringing.
poem by Terry Collett
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Julie and You and Christ
Julie was walking
down Oxford Street
with you
one of her hands
was in yours
the other was holding
a cigarette which she put
to her lips and drew on
and exhaled the smoke
and said
pushing smoke
into the world
do you think Christ
ever came?
of course
you replied
the whole calendar
of the Western world
is spilt before and after
his coming
she inhaled deeply
and stopped to peer
in a shop window
don't like that dress
it's too darn middle class
too safe
you looked at the dress
in the window
at the colours and style
would your mother where it?
you asked
she'd wear it
but I wouldn't
be seen dead in it
she said
moving you on
squeezing your hand
reminding you
of the quick grope
and sex in the small cupboard
off the ward
where she was staying
while trying to kick
the drug habit
she spread out
amongst brooms and boxes
and you there gazing at her
wondering if some domestic
would find you there
well? do you think
Christ really came?
she asked
yes
you said
he split history in two
he made people
either love him
or hate him
and want to destroy him
and what he stood for
she laughed and said
you certainly got him
under your skin
I don't think he came at all
she said
before inhaling
her cigarette smoke
I think it was all
a big joke played out
on the Jews
to get them riled
she inhaled
her cigarette smoke
and was silent
as you walked on
down the Street
it was no joke
being crucified
no joke hanging there
on that cross
you said
she pulled you
into a shop doorway
and kissed you
and said
oh forget about him
and his crucifixion
I've had enough
of the parents
ramming him
into my brain
over the years
and she kissed you again
and you looked
into her dark eyes
where you thought
many a dream comes
and drowns
and dies.
poem by Terry Collett
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Bible Verse
I asked the child why did she curse
Her answer was, she knew not a Bible verse
She never went to church or knew how to say a prayer
So all that she knew, was how to curse and swear,
I was told that her mother had taught her well
But never taught her about heaven or even hell
And all that she knew is from what she had read
While listening to the words that her mother had said.
I asked the child why did she lie
Her response to me, it is better than to cry
As things got bad and then they turned worse
That's all that she knew, and she knew not a Bible verse,
Her mother had told her the things not to do
But then they differed from other's points of view
And all the child knew was from what she had seen
As she watched her mother, which was unforeseen.
I asked the child why did she steal
Taking from others for a terrible ordeal
She answered me, as she placed the goods in her purse
'It is the way that I am', and I know not of a Bible verse
Someday soon I will probably smoke and drink
Spoke the child to me as she began to think
But then am I not the girl that my mother did raise
And every day to my mother, I give her praise.
I asked the child why did she fight
She then said to me, it's better than being polite
Her mother's honor again she had to defend
And fighting is all that she could comprehend
So the child then wiped the pain off of her face
As she slowly walked away in sadness and disgrace
The last thing she said to me as we did converse
She said, I truly wish that I knew a Bible verse.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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A.s.3
when i was
sixteen
i tried to hold
a cigarette and
smoke it
i was in a dark
alley
with you and
you held my hand
seize my cigarette
and throw it
away
it was raining
and it was cold
you said a lot
of words
telling me that
i am your
under your
control
since then
you know what
is my wish
for you
i have always loved
freedom
i have always liked
to live alone
if you were alive
now
you could have seen
this misery
i know not how
to live
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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I Had A Dream
I had a dream
As though it seemed
Just the other day,
And you were there
Just like my prayer
Answering the words I prayed.
You took my hand
You helped me stand
And I rose to meet your eyes,
And as I stood
The way a man should
You were gone, and I knew not why.
I looked around
You couldnt be found
Then for you I cried as I spoke
“Why did you leave”
“Come back to me please”
But you didnt, so I awoke.
I had a dream
As though it seemed
Just the other night.
And you were there
Just like my prayer
Standing in the moon light.
You gave me a smile
Which I longed for a while
Joy was in my heart and soul
I began to smile
Just like a child
As my memories of you began to grow.
I thought of our past
As I wished it would always last
But you shook your head sadly No
So I shed a tear
Which dissapeared
And sadly again, I awoke.
I had a dream
as though it seemed
Late last night
And you were there
Just like my prayer
My woman, my wife and my life.
I took your hand
As I am your man
Together we will be
I wouldnt let go
as you shook your head no,
Together you and me.
I gave you a kiss
Which I did miss
Then you began to weep
You cried saying that I will awake
Without you to a new day
Then I said “no”, I will sleep
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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Vampire Suicide
She walks through the graves,
Passing them one by one,
They all passed like they should, but she couldn’t, she remained times slave,
Even though she whished she could.
She walked by the people,
She read the stones like a book,
She read them all she knew all the people,
She watched as she began to look.
She looked at their names, their stones,
She studied their bitrthdays,
She knew them, she knew they were only bones,
But still she feels their pain, and what happened in their last days
She watched in sorrow, in hate,
She knew she should be one of them, she should be under ground,
She knew that she was supposed to suffer the same fate,
But now she wanders through eternity, her fate never to be found
She stopped at the end of the row one stone catches her eye,
She knew this person, this child,
She looks at the birth only eighteen years from when she died,
Her eyes fill with tears, and her still heart goes wild.
She knows she has eternity but that’s not what she wants,
She is the being of forever, the vampire,
“you don’t have to die” her mind taunts,
Her heart so cold her mind so wild, her soul filled with fire.
She drops to her knees the stake in her hand,
She lays the teddy bear one the s grave, her grave,
She lays unable to stand,
Now its not time but that she craves.
She takes the stake to her throat,
She pulls it across her marble skin,
The blood appears but not from her throat,
She feels eternity fade from her skin.
She lays feeling holding onto its’ thought,
She takes the stake away feeling the burn of the wood,
She lowers it to her heart she feels her skin get hot,
The burning begins just with a touch of the wood.
She lays in front of her grave with the flowers,
And she presses the knife deeper into herself,
She feels her body drain of all power,
She watches her eternity slip away, as she gets what she wants for herself.
The she never had now came to her side,
She held to it like a child to the mother breast,
She lost the grip of light and her grip on life began to slide,
She let it slip away, away with all the rest.
She watched as it all left her as she died above her grave,
She Walked with, she walked by its’ side
But now She is no longer times slave,
For this is the vampires’ suicide.
poem by Bethany Maxwell
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