Losing the war of tobacco..
Losing the war of tobacco..
I'm losing the war that has consumed my life.
Tobacco is my war that I fight along side
Tobacco is in the life I live in
Tobacco is the war I'm losing
Tobacco has consumed my life
poem by Joe Johnson
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Ned’s Delicate Way
Ned knew I was short of tobacco one day,
And that I was too proud to ask for it;
He hated such pride, but his delicate way
Forbade him to take me to task for it.
I loathed to be cadging tobacco from Ned,
But, when I was just on the brink of it;
‘I’ve got a new brand of tobacco”, he said –
“Try a smoke, and let’s know what you think of it.”
poem by Henry Lawson
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Agony
And in spoonful oil
Kitchen is busy frying
Mustard and lentils two tablespoons each
And chillies hundred grams
And a pack of cigar or raw tobacco
In added two tablespoons of oil
Then to grind with lemon size tamarind, salt
To make tobacco chutney
And the water soaked tobacco
Kitchen is busy grinding
With salt and cashews handful
To make balls, be deep fried in oil
Be added to a masala tomato puree
To make tobacco kofta curry
And to the cooked rice
Kitchen is busy seasoning
With fried clove, cardamom, and cinnamon
Onion and ginger-garlic paste, salt
Sauted well with flavoured tobacco
Then to garnish with cut cigar pieces
To make tobacco biryani
Tobacco chutney, tobacco curry
Tobacco biryani..what next..
Forgotten Kitchen hurrying
To make more koftas
Be put in sugar syrup
To make tobacco jamuns
Then you see, exhausted Kitchen
Under the wildly running fan rests
Wildly coughing out
Her heart despite its rapidness
Awaiting patiently her lover
Who's been chained to her delicious cooking
poem by Indira Renganathan
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It is time for Congress to provide relief for tobacco farmers. Since the 1930's tobacco production has been regulated by a quota system, which required farmers to purchase quota in order to grow tobacco.
quote by Allen Boyd
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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There's nothing quite like tobacco: it's the passion of decent folk, and whoever lives without tobacco doesn't deserve to live.
Tobacco
The Indian weed, withered quite,
Green at noon, cut down at night,
Shows thy decay; all flesh is hay,
Thus thinke, then drinke tobacco.
The pipe that is so lily-white,
Shows thee to be a mortal wight;
And even such, gone with a touch,
Thus thinke, then drinke tobacco.
And when the smoke ascends on high,
Thinke thou beholdest the vanity
Of worldly stuffe, gone with a puffe,
Thus thinke, then drinke tobacco.
And when the pipe grows foul within,
Think on thy soule defil'd with sin,
And then the fire it doth require.
Thus thinke, then drinke tobacco.
The ashes that are left behind,
May serve to put thee still in mind,
That unto dust return thou must.
Thus thinke, then drinke tobacco.
poem by George Wither
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No matter what Aristotle and the Philosophers say, nothing is equal to tobacco; it's the passion of the well-bred, and he who lives without tobacco lives a life not worth living.
I checked out all types of tobacco trying to find one that would be easiest to live with, I ended up using pipe tobacco. It burned slower, and it wasn't as harsh on my throat... It also smelled better.
quote by David Strathairn
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sure, it is apparent that presidents are looking at polls, but they are also stepping up on issues. President Clinton stepped up on tobacco. He shaped the polls on the tobacco issue.
quote by Donna Shalala
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I'm glad now, at age 66, that I never used alcohol or tobacco... I've buried a lot of friends who used tobacco or alcohol.
quote by Jerry Falwell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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But there is no withdrawal, but with tobacco there is terrible withdrawal, it is almost impossible for a lot of people. I did , I went cold turkey, they never had any patches in those days but grass was not difficult, alcohol not difficult, but tobacco - oh my god.
quote by Larry Hagman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Leaf
The Leaf.
On my walks I picked up a perfectly formed elm leaf,
the colour of dry tobacco. In Norway, during the Nazi
occupation, people had tobacco plants in back yards.
Perhaps carrots and cabbage had been healthier.
Put the leaf on top of a white wall and took a picture.
The wind came and blew it away. I brief meeting of
equals and a memory
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Come Sirrah Jack Ho
Come sirrah Jack ho,
Fill some tobacco,
Bring a wire and some fire,
Haste haste away,
quick I say,
do not stay,
shun delay,
for I drank none good today.
I swear that this tobacco
Is perfect Trinidad-o;
By the very very Mass,
never never was
better gear
than is here,
by the rood,
for the blood,
it is very very good,
'tis very good.
poem by Thomas Weelkes
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Give Up Smoking Tobacco
A traveller walks with crutches,
passing by me with one leg stretches,
Other leg amputated above the knee,
Enquired I, Why? How?
Said he, one toe became black,
Reduced blood circulation to the little toe
and circulation to adjacent toes
also getting cut;
The history is that he was a smoker
of Beedi - rolled tobacco leaves -
Smoking of Beedi leads to narrowing of blood vessels
supplying the toes, results in clotting of blood;
The toes get gangrenous,
tissue death extends towards the hip
necessitating in amputation
of toes to midthigh;
Give up smoking tobacco
to escape from death of tissues
and removal of toes and lower limbs,
GIVE UP SMOKING TOBACCO!
poem by V.K. Kanniappan
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If you substitute marijuana for tobacco and alcohol, you'll add eight to 24 years to your life.
quote by Jack Herer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It is more profitable for your congressman to support the tobacco industry than your life.
quote by Jackie Mason
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fear
what am i most afraid of?
losing my health?
losing my job?
losing my family?
losing my virility?
losing my self-image?
losing my dignity?
losing my sanity?
losing my life?
or ending up alone
in the darkness
without reason or form
or direction.
what am i most afraid of?
and why?
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Sugar and Gold
Columbus sailed for riches
Pizarro and Cortes sought gold
The living slaves, the dead of Haiti
The Aztecs and the Incas
Haunt their testimony and
Historical foothold
Virginians mined tobacco
Brown leaves lustrous by the fields
Cured by branded bodies
Newly broken in
The sweat and joy entirely
Extracted by the sun
Jackson pledged to the Cherokee
The land would stay under their feet
As long as the grass shall grow
And the rivers run, his promise held
Until the white man with his dogs
Came running to the smell of gold
Heavy leaves of cane
Lacerate the children's hands
As they strip the stands
Working without cease
By heavy furnaces, consumed
By sudden leaps of crystalising flame
Things we may not see
When gold is hidden plain
Sugar underneath the tongue
Sleeping in the cold
Evicted by the company
Imperial Tobacco Road
With time to mine
The provenance of gold.
poem by Frank Bana
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So if it seems that some of what I'll have to say in the pages to come doesn't reflect the mellowing of age, that's only because I've never found that life and memories respond to time the way that tobacco does.
quote by Caleb Carr
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Pipe and Can
I
THE Indian weed withered quite;
Green at morn, cut down at night;
Shows thy decay: all flesh is hay:
Thus think, then drink Tobacco.
And when the smoke ascends on high,
Think thou behold'st the vanity
Of worldly stuff, gone with a puff:
Thus think, then drink Tobacco.
But when the pipe grows foul within,
Think of thy soul defiled with sin,
And that the fire doth it require:
Thus think, then drink Tobacco.
The ashes, that are left behind,
May serve to put thee still in mind
That unto dust return thou must:
Thus think, then drink Tobacco.
II
WHEN as the chill Charokko blows,
And Winter tells a heavy tale;
When pyes and daws and rooks and crows
Sit cursing of the frosts and snows;
Then give me ale.
Ale in a Saxon rumkin then,
Such as will make grimalkin prate;
Bids valour burgeon in tall men,
Quickens the poet's wit and pen,
Despises fate.
Ale, that the absent battle fights,
And frames the march of Swedish drum,
Disputes with princes, laws, and rights,
What 's done and past tells mortal wights,
And what 's to come.
Ale, that the plowman's heart up-keeps
And equals it with tyrants' thrones,
That wipes the eye that over-weeps,
And lulls in sure and dainty sleeps
Th' o'er-wearied bones.
Grandchild of Ceres, Bacchus' daughter,
Wine's emulous neighbour, though but stale,
Ennobling all the nymphs of water,
And filling each man's heart with laughter--
Ha! give me ale!
Art of losing
Maybe a shock, maybe hard in the beginning
Maybe too soon, maybe numb in the feeling
Losing is losing
Always brings an amount of grief
Even the rich, even the expert
Whether once, whether often
Losing is losing
And deal with it
Whether precious, whether replaceable
Whether unconscious choice, whether paying the price
Losing is losing
But don't be carried with guilt
Whether mysteriously disappeared, whether deeply investigated
Whether destroying your life, whether ruining your happiness
Losing is losing
So start to forgive yourself
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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