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Probably millions of Americans got up this morning with a cup of coffee, a cigarette and a donut. No wonder they are sick and fouled up.

quote by Jack LaLanne
Added by Lucian Velea
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Coffee

Sometimes life is merely a matter of coffee and whatever intimacy a cup of coffee
affords. I once read something about coffee. The thing said that coffee is good for you;
it stimulates all the organs.
I thought at first this was a strange way to put it, and not altogether pleasant, but
as time goes by I have found out that it makes sense in its own limited way. I'll tell you
what I mean.
Yesterday morning I went over to see a girl. I like her. Whatever we had going for us
is gone now. She does not care for me. I blew it and wish I hadn't.
I rang the door bell and waited on the stairs. I could hear her moving around upstairs.
The way she moved I could tell that she was getting up. I had awakened her.
Then she came down the stairs. I could feel her approach in my stomach. Every step she
took stirred my feelings and lead indirectly to her opening the door. She saw me and it
did not please her.
Once upon a time it pleased her very much, last week. I wonder where it went,
pretending to be naive.
"I feel strange now," she said. "I don't want to talk."
"I want a cup of coffee," I said, because it was the last thing in the world
that I wanted. I said it in such a way that it sounded as if I were reading her a telegram
from somebody else, a person who really wanted a cup of coffee, who cared about nothing
else.
"All right," she said.
I followed her up the stairs. It was ridiculous. She had just put some clothes on. They
had not quite adjusted themselves to her body. I could tell you about her ass. We went
into the kitchen.
She took a jar of instant coffee off the shelf and put it on the table. She placed a
cup next to it, and a spoon. I looked at them. She put a pan full of water on the stove
and turned the gas on under it.
All this time she did not say a word. Her clothes adjusted themselves to her body. I
won't. She left the kitchen.
Then she went down the stairs and outside to see if she had any mail. I didn't remember
seeing any. She came back up the stairs and went into another room. She closed the door
after her. I looked at the pan full of water on the stove.
I knew that it would take a year before the water started to boil. It was now October
and there was too much water in the pan. That was the problem. I threw half of the water
into the sink.
The water would boil faster now. It would take only six months. The house was quiet.
I looked out the back porch. There were sacks of garbage there. I stared at the garbage
and tried to figure out what she had been eating lately by studying the containers and
peelings and stuff. I couldn't tell a thing.
It was now March. The water started to boil. I was pleased by this.
I looked at the table. There was the jar of instant coffee, the empty cup and the spoon
all laid out like a funeral service. These are the things that you need to make a cup of
coffee.
When I left the house ten minutes later, the cup of coffee safely inside me like a
grave, I said, "Thank you for the cup of coffee."
"You're welcome," she said. Her voice came from behind a closed door. Her
voice sounded like another telegram. It was really time for me to leave.
I spent the rest of the day not making coffee. It was a comfort. And evening came, I
had dinner in a restaurant and went to a bar. I had some drinks and talked to some people.
We were bar people and said bar things. None of them remembered, and the bar closed. It

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poem by Richard Brautigan from Revenge of the Lawn (1971)
Added by Dan Costinaş
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Java Blues

Rick danko
I walked into a diner
And the blonde behind the counter
She asked if she could help in any way
Hell, I knew by her smile
Her number I could dial
If I was in the need of company
But as I bought some java
Instead she brought me a cup of chicory
I got those java blues
Coffees got me
Java blues
Oh coffee, coffee, coffee
Java blues
Coffees got me
Java blues
Oh coffee
You know that Ill stay high
Ill drink coffee till I die
Dont pour me water just fill up my cup
You know it takes a lot just to keep me up
Cost may be more than you care to pay
What good is money compared to fightin pain
Dont try to cheat
Its impossible to beat
The only pick me up thats here to stay
I got those java blues
Coffees got me
Java blues
Oh coffee, coffee, coffee
Java blues
Oh coffee, oh coffee
Java blues
Coffees got me
You know that Ill stay high
Ill drink coffee till I die
The taste of java is like a cocaine rush
Nobodys gonna stop me from drinkin too much
Down in bolivia the people are insane
They want as much for coffee as they do for cocaine
Dont try to cheat
Its impossible to beat
The only pick me up thats here to stay
I got those java blues
Coffees got me
Java blues
Oh coffee, coffee, coffee
Java blues
The coffees got me now..
Java blues

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song performed by Nazareth
Added by Lucian Velea
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September on Jessore Road

Millions of babies watching the skies
Bellies swollen, with big round eyes
On Jessore Road--long bamboo huts
Noplace to shit but sand channel ruts

Millions of fathers in rain
Millions of mothers in pain
Millions of brothers in woe
Millions of sisters nowhere to go

One Million aunts are dying for bread
One Million uncles lamenting the dead
Grandfather millions homeless and sad
Grandmother millions silently mad

Millions of daughters walk in the mud
Millions of children wash in the flood
A Million girls vomit & groan
Millions of families hopeless alone

Millions of souls nineteenseventyone
homeless on Jessore road under grey sun
A million are dead, the million who can
Walk toward Calcutta from East Pakistan

Taxi September along Jessore Road
Oxcart skeletons drag charcoal load
past watery fields thru rain flood ruts
Dung cakes on treetrunks, plastic-roof huts

Wet processions Families walk
Stunted boys big heads don't talk
Look bony skulls & silent round eyes
Starving black angels in human disguise

Mother squats weeping & points to her sons
Standing thin legged like elderly nuns
small bodied hands to their mouths in prayer
Five months small food since they settled there

on one floor mat with small empty pot
Father lifts up his hands at their lot
Tears come to their mother's eye
Pain makes mother Maya cry

Two children together in palmroof shade
Stare at me no word is said
Rice ration, lentils one time a week
Milk powder for warweary infants meek

[...] Read more

poem by Allen Ginsberg
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All Day Sucker

Come on up you say
Cause you can feel your love comin down
I find myself rushin over to
Do something for your love
I knock on the door
You answer askin what am I there for
I say I thought you wanted me to
Do something for your love
Im an all day sucker
Coming to give something to get nothin
Im an all day sucker
Coming to give something but to get none of your love
All day sucker for your love
All day sucker cup for your love
All day sucker for your love
All day sucker cup for your love
All day sucker for your love
All day sucker cup for your love
All day sucker for your love
All day sucker cup for your love
You call me up to say
Youre sorry for what went down the other day
And could I come over today
Do something for your love
One knuck gets me in
But then you say how very nice its been
That lets me know that I will once again
Get nothin fom your love
Im an all day sucker
Coming to give something to get nothin
Im an all day sucker
Coming to give something but to get none of your love
All day sucker for your love
All day sucker cup for your love
All day sucker for your love
All day sucker cup for your love
All day sucker for your love
All day sucker cup for your love
All day sucker for your love
All day sucker cup for your love
All day sucker for your love
All day sucker cup for your love
All day sucker for your love
All day sucker cup for your love
All day sucker for your love
All day sucker cup for your love
All day sucker for your love
All day sucker cup for your love
You drop by to say
Youre sorry for what went down the other day

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song performed by Stevie Wonder
Added by Lucian Velea
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Donut Dan

Donut dans gonna get a hummer from a man
Donut dans gonna get a hummer from a man
Donut dans gonna get a hummer
Donut dans gonna get a hummer
Donut dans gonna get a hummer from a man
And I wont tell your girl shes a man
No I wont tell your girl shes a man
No I wont tell your girl
And I wont tell your girl
And I wont tell your girl shes a man
Tapatio and 5 dollar mercy jerk
Tapatio and 5 dollar mercy jerk
Tapatio and 5 dollar
Tapatio and 5 dollar
Tapatio and 5 dollar mercy jerk
Donut dan

song performed by Goldfinger
Added by Lucian Velea
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Virginia's Story

Elizabeth Gates-Wooten is my Grand mom.

She was born in Canada with her father and brothers.
They owned a Barber Shoppe.
I don't remember exactly where in Canada.
I believe it was right over the border like Windsor or Toronto.
I never knew exactly where it was.

When she was old enough she got married.

First, she married a man by the name of Frank Gates.
He was from Madagascar.
He fathered my mom and her brother and sister.
The boy's name was Frank Gates, Jr.
Two girls name were Anna and Agnes.

Agnes was my mother.

Frank Gates went crazy after the war
He drank a lot and died
Then grandma Elizabeth married a man by the name of Mr. Wooten.
He had a German name, but I don't think he was German.
She took his last name after they got married.

Then they moved to West Virginia in the United States.

Their son, Frank Gates Jr. Became a delegate in the democratic party.
He use to get into a lot of trouble because he liked to fight.
He was a delegate from the 1940's to 1970's.
He died of gout in the 1970's.

Anna was a maid and cook.

She baked cakes and stuff for people as a side line.
She had a hump on her back (scoliosis) .
She had to walk with a cane.
She could cook good though.
She did this kind of work all of her life, just like her mom, Elizabeth

They were both good cooks

They had a lot of money because they had these skills
Especially when people had parties.
Because they would make all of this food and then they would have left-overs.
We got to eat a lot of stuff we normally wouldn't get because of that.
When they cooked, they didn't use no measuring stuff, they would just use there hand.

My moms name was Agnes Barrie Gates.

She married James Wright and moved to Cleveland.

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poem by Talile Ali
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A January Fear

A sick day a sick day
I'll not make it all year
My class is all here
Down to each little sneer

A sick day a sick day
I'll not make it all year
Those cute little creatures
Have nothing to fear

A sick day a sick day
I'll not make it all year
Still knowing that teacher's
not entirely all here

A sick day a sick day
I'll not make it all year
Each little tear
Makes it perfectly clear

A sick day a sick day
I'll not make it all year
A day off is coming
And hopefully near

a sick day a sick day
I'll not make it all year
It's harder and harder
Maintaining my leer

A sick day a sick day
I'll not make it all year
Perhaps my behavior's
becoming quite queer

A sick day a sick day
I'll not make it all year
Perhaps in the morning
I'll call in and cheer

A SICK DAY A SICK DAY
I GOT A PAIN IN MY EAR

Alas...I can hear my principle sneer
With a resigning smirk easy to hear
NO SICK DAY NO SICK DAY
SORRY MY DEAR

NO SICK DAYS NO SICK DAYS
REMAINING THIS YEAR

poem by Robert John Meehan
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Coffee!

Coffee beans all ground up,
Coffee in my favourite cup,
Coffee black, coffee white,
Coffee dark, coffee light,
Coffee right, to start the day,
Coffee at work, coffee at play,
Coffee midday, coffee at night,
Coffee to sober, coffee to excite,
Coffee weak, coffee strong,
But maybe instead some Lapsang Souchong! ! ! !
TEA! ! ! ! !

poem by Ernestine Northover
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Sick of Being Sick

I’m sick of being rejected;
I’m sick of being emotionally neglected;
I’m sick of crying so many tears;
I’m sick of running away from my fears;
I’m sick of my childhood nightmares;
I’m sick of being told to do those stupid dares;
I’m sick of not having friends;
I’m sick of all these dead ends;
I’m sick of myself for what I’ve become;
I’m sick of feeling oh so numb;
I’m sick of watching myself drown;
I’m sick of my heart falling to the ground;
I’m sick of this life;
I’m sick of this everyday strife;
I’m sick of not having a dad;
I’m sick of getting mad;
I’m sick of my childhood past;
I’m sick of being harassed;
I’m sick of the dread;
I’m sick of wanting to be dead;
I’m sick of being the one who’s always so strong;
I’m sick of being somebody that doesn’t belong! !

poem by Shelby Brockway
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I wish I was a Donut

I wish I was a donut,
And got eaten everyday.
I could stick on someone’s fingers,
Squishy testy like cookie dough,
In a most delightful way,
So they wouldn’t mind.

I wish I was a donut,
Sugar coated just for fun,
To slide into your mouth, down your throat, and into your tummy.
I’m so tasty everyone would like me.
Pass me around or share me with your pale.

I wish I was a donut,
Filled with yummy cream,
I am sure you’ll enjoy me,
All you’ll hear is the sound of sucking me down,
Licking your lips and wanting more of me.
I’d be in the spot light,
The star of the show.

I wish I was a donut,
Deliciousness will fill your mouth,
And your taste buds will enter a moist smooth dream world,
After the first taste of me.

I would be candy to a cop,
And a surgery treat to a child.

I wish I was a donut,
Don’t you?

poem by Mrs. Cynosure
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Spies

Sick and tired, the way they walk
Sick and tired, the way they talk
Sick and tired, the things they say
Sick and tired, wheres my j?
Sick and tired, same old song
Sick and tired, wheres my bong?
Sick and tired, anarchy!
Spies are all around me, spies in every county
Spies, my heads are bounty
Snipers in the air
The neighborhood watch is after us.
The neighborhood watch dont like richters bus
The neighborhood watch is what they say,
But when I see them walkin towards me, I light another...
Generation x is the title they use
When I skate down mackenzie avenue.
Everybody that I see is lookin at me like a vandal
Maybe cause Im (wheelin? ) in some dickies and some sandals
Man, I know what you mean when you talk about the neighborhood
The old folks always sayin that we aint no good
Talkin to my pops about my music
Sayin we should keep it down and not abuse it
Man, I dont sweat those old ass bastards.
I just sit on the curb and with my herb and get plastered
They work all day long, they seem so bored
I think their ass should reside in the county morgue
Theyre postin up signs, man I think they should chill
Talkin if I dont call the cops then my neighbor will
Cause from city to city its all the same.
The neighborhood watch is a big ass gang
Sick and tired the way they walk,
Sick and tired the way they talk
Sick and tired the things they say, sick and tired. wheres my j?
Sick and tired, same old song, sick and tired wheres my bong?
Sick and tired, anarchy!
Spies are all around me, spies in every county
Spies, my heads are bounty
Snipers in the air
The neighborhood watch is after us.
The neighborhood watch dont like richters bus
The neighborhood watch is what they say,
But when I think theyre walkin towards me, I light another...
Every night when the street lights came on
We used to gather round, take rips from that bong.
Cause john wayne country, republican block
A bunch of overweight housewives that wanna be cops.
Cook and clean, the life of slave
Take kottonmouths advice and call jenny craig
Its not in my control, when we were in school
Wanna see us livin life like the golden rule

[...] Read more

song performed by Kottonmouth Kings
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OH! I can't SAY that....(a revision)

I'm sick of f\%king Facebook,
sick of emails,
sick of people talking,
sick of my work radio beeping,
I'm sick of words.

I am being cluttered to death by words....
I am sick of listening to crazies on the bus,
sick of television spewing out banality.

Sick of voices, sick of billboards, sick of typing.

I am word sick.

I am sick of people
The more they let me know them the less I care.
I don't care what your baby did.
don't give a f$ck about what you ate for dinner.
I don't even f*ckin care if your grandpa died.
Sick, sick, sick, I am making myself sick
just writing this sh#t down.
Nothing anyone has to say is of any importance at all
that includes me.
I am drowning in words, and voices, and mundane ideas.

I am sick of people trying to 'set the world on fire'
But I do wish them luck....

because some men just want to see the world burn.

I'm sick of f&cking texts and even more sick of phone calls.
I am sick of adverts on the telly.

I am fed up with peoples life stories.

I don't care what you have been through,
as long as you will let me sleep with you.

And I will only sleep with you
if you promise to wear a ball gag.

poem by Brevet Wilson
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Jimmy The Explorer

JIMMY THE EXPLORER
Now Jimmy
Well, do you want an explosion now?
Yeah Jimmy
Do you want to explode now?
Yeah monkey
Now you seeing red now
Yeah monkey
Jumping on the bed now
Hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo
Green apples
On the tree and growing now
Green apples
Are gonna be exploding now
Yeah monkey
Are you seeing red now?
Yeah monkey
Jumping on the bed now
Woo hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo
STOP BREAKING DOWN
Everytime Im walkin, down the streets,
some pretty mama she starts breakin down
Stop breakin down, yes stop breakin down
The stuff I gotll bust your brains out, baby, hoo hoo,
itll make you lose your mind.
Now, you Saturday night womens, you love to ape and clown,
you wont do nothin but tear good man (i.e Jack White) reputation down
Stop breakin down, please stop breakin down
The stuff I gotll bust your brains out, baby, hoo hoo,
itll make you lose your mind
Now, I give my baby, now, the ninety-nine degree,
she jumped up and throwed a pistol down on me
Stop breakin down, please stop breakin down
Stuff I gotll bust your brains out, if you think you lose your mind
THE BIG THREE KILLED MY BABY
The big three killed my baby
no money in my hand again
the big three killed my baby
nobody's coming home again
Their ideas made me want to spit
a hundred dollars goes down the pit
30,000 wheels are rollin
and my stick shift hands are swollen
everything involved is shady
the big three killed my baby
The big three killed my baby
no money in my hand again
the big three killed my baby
nobody's coming home again
Why dont you take the day off and try to repair

[...] Read more

song performed by White Stripes
Added by Lucian Velea
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I Am Sick......

i am sick of your justice...
sick of dead bodies strewn,
sick of your bursts of gunfire,
and your bombs without conscience.
sick of the napalm fingers of your equality,
trading flesh for nickels and dime.
sick of your powder and your pills,
sick of the rape of the young girl
beneath your flag!
i am sick of your nuclear bibles,
sick of your buying and trading.
i am sick of the pound of your oil rigs,
sick of the stink of your morality.
i am sick of your hanging trees,
your courtrooms stacked.
i am sick of the money you sleep with,
sick of your colorless freedom.
i am sick of your smokestacks gone silent.
sick of your riot squads gassing.
i am sick of the amendments you've twisted,
sick of your hate and your prejudice...
i am sick of your slavery,
your prisons, your human rights violations.
i am sick of your political lies....

revolution, by common bond,
the choice of integrity, or death!
the dignity of the human soul demands,
that we live or we die!

poem by Eric Cockrell
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One World In A Cup

A poem in honour of the World Cup, a time when we set aside all the vicissitudes and differences of life on Earth to enjoy the world cup.

There is therefore the potential that we can live in peace on earth even beyond the World Cup. One indivisible world, just like the cup itself.

The time is nigh
The passion tide is high
Date is June 11,2010
The place of war is South Africa
A place of peace; the land of the 91 years old Madiba

For 30 days,
The universe will live in one cup.
30 days of pride and humility
30 days of fortune and misfortune
30 days of sun and rain
One world in one cup!

Winners aloft with joy,
Losers aloft with sadness.
Winners and fans drenched in the sun,
Losers and their shadows alone drenched in the rain.
One world in one cup!

30 days sans bombs and explosions
30 days sans volcanic eruptions
But,30 days of (possible) earthquakes –
A Nigeria beating Argentina,
A Cote D’Ivoire beating Brazil,
Or, U.S.A winning the World Cup!
One World in One Cup!

Round and round is the world
Just like the foolish round leather
Kicked around by 32 knights of war
An icon of life and death
So mysterious, it evokes joy and sadness
When caught by the enemy’s net
One world in one cup!

Time to let go of war
Time to let go of politics
Time to let go of religion
Time to let go of diseases and sicknesses
The beautiful game is here
It is the healing time
One world in one cup!

The battle of 32 knights

[...] Read more

poem by Tim Long
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Most Memorable Valentine

I would see the old lady in the halls where I did volunteer work.
About eighty plus years old, with the bent over shuffle of the very old or very feeble.Pushing her walker laboriously, yet with determination as she went to her appointments.

I stopped often to talk to her, usually in the cafeteria where she had her favorite spot.

During one of these chats she excitedly told me the doctor had told her that very day that her cancer had seemingly gone away. felt good for her, and had a warm feeling the rest of that day.
I didn't see her for quite some time and began to think she might have died, so I was relieved on Valentines day to see her slumped down dozing in her customary seat in the cafeteria, her walker folded
Beside her.

I didn't bother to chat her up since she looked so peaceful, eyes half closed, head on her breast.I sat down in a booth just across a divider between us. No more than three feet separated us from
each other as I worked my crossword puzzle and had breakfast.

My attention was taken by the voice of a bus girl replying to the old lady, who asked again if she could get her another coffee and a cinnamon donut. The bus girl said 'of course, but it would be a
few moments before she could get it.' After a moment, I got up and approached the bus girl and told her 'never mind, that
I would take care of the ladies coffee and donut.'

I bought and paid for it and then tapped the old girl on the shoulder. She recognized me as the man who chatted with her occasionally and gave me a tired, friendly smile. I told her that today was Valentines day and I didn't have a Valentine to call my own, and that It would please me so much If she would be my Valentine and gave her the coffee and donut. 'just for today, okay? '

At first she looked taken aback, and then smiled broadly and said 'of course, of course my dear! '
I put my hand on her blue veined, withered hand, and gave it a gentle squeeze. She put her other hand over mine and gave the squeeze right back. As I took leave I said 'don't forget…today you're my Valentine' and she smiled, winked, and said 'and you'll be mine.'

For a short while, after I went on with my day, I replayed our exchange over in my mind, thinking what a fine, gallant man am I, doing such a generous gesture for an old lady. Then I realized that she had done much more for me than I had done for her.

She had made me feel good about myself at that moment, but the memory of her smile and wink, would make me feel warm and fuzzy for the rest of my life.

She will always be my favorite…most memorable Valentine of my life.

poem by David Whalen
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Ole Ola

When the blue shirts run out in Argentina
Our hearts will be beating like a drum
And your nerves are so shattered you can't take it
Automatically you reach out for the run
But there really isn't any cause for panic
Ally's army had it all under control
It's not merely speculations
It's not just imagination
To bring the World Cup home is Scotland's goal
Ole ola, Ole ola
We're gonna bring that World Cup back from over there
Ole ola, Ole ola
We're gonna bring that World Cup back from over there
We got Dalglish, Buchan and Macari
We got Archie Gemmill, Johnstone and McQueen
We got Big Joe Jordan waiting at the middle and the best support
This world has ever seen
We got Donachie, Rioch and Don Masson
We got Andy Gray and Asa Hartford too
And with this lethal combination it's a fair estimation
That the World Cup will be ours the end of June
Ole ola, Ole ola
We're gonna bring that World Cup back from over there
Ole ola, Ole ola
We're gonna bring that World Cup back from over there
Oh, Brazil, this time I don't think so
Holland without Cruyff just ain't the same
Germany will, we feel,be a challenge
The Italians can still play the game
But there's really only one team in it
We'll be singing as we'll get off of the plane
We are bound for Buenos Aires, we don't care just what they tell us
Only wish we had Danny McGrain
Ole ola, Ole ola
We're gonna bring that World Cup back from over there
Willie Johnstone, then it goes to Dalglish. Lou Macari supporting. There's on opener, defended by Buchan, there's Kenny Dalglish in there. Oh, what a goal!Oh, yes! That does it!
They'll be singing up there in Aberdeen and Dundee
Glasgow will be reaching fever pitch
Cause with a nation of five million we're gonna really turn the heat on
Cause we invented football anyway
Ole ola, Ole ola
We're gonna bring that World Cup back from over there Yes, we are
Ole ola, Ole ola
We're gonna bring that World Cup back from over there
Ole ola, Ole ola
We're gonna bring that World Cup back from over there All together now:
Ole ola, Ole ola
We're gonna bring that World Cup back from over there. One more
Ole ola, Ole ola
We're gonna bring that World Cup back from over there Yes, we are

[...] Read more

song performed by Rod Stewart
Added by Lucian Velea
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Medley: Fool For A Cigarette/feelin Good

(sidney bailey)/(j.b. lenoir/jim dickinson)
Uhm, Im a fool for a cigarette
Lord, Im fool for a cigarette
When youve finished choke it cause I wanna smoke it
Lord, Im fool for a cigarette
Mind when you throw your cigarette
Mind when you throw your cigarette
When youve finished choke it cause I wanna smoke it
Lord, Im fool for a cigarette
Lord, Im fool for a cigarette
Uhm, Im fool for a cigarette
When youve finished choke it cause I wanna smoke it
Lord, Im fool for a cigarette
Feelin good, feelin good
All the money in the world spent onl feelin good
Well, the wino met me on the streets
Said, help me on to some sneakin pete
Please, help me brother, I wish you would
cause I feel so bad and I wanna feel good
Feelin good, feelin good
All the money in the world is spent on feelin good
Well, you see them folks all dressed so fine
Dancing, drinking champagne and wine
Theyd pinch your pockets now if they could
cause they aint doing nothing but feelin good
Feelin good, feelin good
All the money in the world is spent on feelin good
Red, yellow, black or tan
Makes no difference: a mans a man
They oughta live together now if they could
Then the whole wide world would be feelin good
Feelin good, feelin good
All the money in the world spent on feelin good
Feelin good, feelin good
All the money in the world spent on feelin good

song performed by Ry Cooder
Added by Lucian Velea
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Soccer Under 20

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[...] Read more

poem by Rwetewrt Erwtwer
Added by Poetry Lover
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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
Added by Poetry Lover
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