12 posts
  • _desaiagraja 7w

    The Cigar & A Broken Heart

    Little white stick, she pulled it out,
    And sticked straight to the mouth.
    Holding it like a classic cigar.
    Slowly burning, drop and splash
    As she soak the tray with ash
    Every inch of me was dieing inside
    As Orange ring burnt to her side

    I got tired, ceasing her to smoke.
    she said "the last one" and never stopped.
    I said I hate you, I hate you,
    When actually I hated the cigar roll.
    then & there you droped that half of cigarette,
    Because I know you actually cared,
    But in no time another one was in your hand.

    May be Sugared or flavored,
    aromatic ingrediants in a rolled paper.
    Air cured or furmented,
    They are tobaccos at the end.
    27 mg full of tar,
    1.4gram nicotine around.
    Smoke fumes up like chimney
    from your mouth.
    Toxins get in, never to come out.
    Your lungs if they could,
    Would scream and shout.

    Oh it comes with the filter now,
    But that's not a justification.
    I know it's your addiction.
    So darling please stop smoking,
    Not any day but right now.

  • pranavkumar 49w


    When you no longer interested in life
    Smoking, alcohol, drugs seems as spiritual pleasure


  • maad_dr 123w


    I find myself uneasy this kind morning,
    Couldn't comprehend this could lead to my own mourning.
    I felt so weak I faltered in my steps,
    Barely lifting my arms trying to call for help.

    But what came out were illegible mumbles,
    As I saw my reflection i knew i was in trouble,
    I thought why fate had sent me half a smile,
    I might soon be riding my last mile.

    A life abused, a body misused.
    My vessels had blown, or partly been glued.
    Blood running snuck with my heart thumping loud.
    I embrace the dark as I finally pass out.

    A miracle was done and my life was saved,
    But I'm left but half a man, my debt unpaid.
    From stagnant posture another curse is laid,
    Sores develop that perhaps will never dissipate.

    And time, the greatest healer, takes his hold,
    I grow stronger as the days unfold.
    Bit by bit I start to regain,
    What once was, through physio and the pain.

  • poetmissing 146w


    I woke this morning being asphyxiated by her soft tender lips. My lungs felt like they were bleeding fire and searing my tastebuds with after death mints.

    Believe it or not, I wanted to kiss her more on the lips, like a child wanting to nestle amongst his mother’s plump breasts for nourishment and warmth.

    She was my everything and I was her rube. I’d stand in the cold, the rain, even if a tsunami came knocking, I’d breathe her in deep, leaving love trails on my tender lungs, causing me to exasperate my unhealthy condition.

    Even though death was evident, I couldn’t stop sucking, no matter my willpower or lack there of. It was futile to think otherwise and a bit shameful hiding in the shadows, like a dirty secret that was an open book.

    I could see her crawling on her knees out of breath, whispering to me to come to her, reaching out to hold me close.
    It was embarrassing that she had such a hold on me. Such lack of control on my part... an invalid.

    She was suffocating me in her own carbon dioxide, with each puff that wisps past my nostrils and into my lungs... I was slowly dying.

    At the time I lacked caring or compassion for my own wellbeing. Even if I planted a rainforest, it couldn’t safe me now... a moot point.

    My own blade, from my own knife, stuck in me, by me, to minimize me, because I hated me, with enough passion to want to kill Myself. Even if it was slow, it was deliberate... self-immolation.

    There was a voice in my head, telling me her heart was dead, she was lifeless, not real, an inanimate object, a trap, a ruse it kept saying. A ruse, a ruse out to get you, it repeated itself many times and it sounded like many voices, overlapping with wicked laughter and no matter what I tried to do to drown them out, the laughter got louder and the harder I tried, the louder the voices become... a defiant child.

    She was rotting between my lips or putrescent my lips, it’s hard to say, one of us was rancid... fetid filled the air.

    I felt numb, addled, exhausted, as a manic voice, begged me to stop puffing so hard on her butt. It apparently was deforming her filter, making it look huge, enormous, disfigured, mangled and I was slobbering the tip with my lips, leaving her... a moist discomfort.

    She wanted none of that. Petite is sweet she’d say as a ritual to calm herself, when she became overwhelmed with emotions or acted erratic. “Petite is sweet, petite is sweet, petite is sweet” a soft voice could be heard saying, until she was calm, less fretted and no longer agonizing in anguish over... dysmorphophobia

    I tried to reassure her, that her butt was normal in size, shape and the feel upon my lips... heavenly.

    I begged her to let me take her home, to lay her out amongst the roses. I wanted to devour her essence slowly, with each puff of smoke that filled my cheeks and lungs. I wanted her to know I loved her, with each smoke ring, I produced a flawless circle, allowing it to float away... was her liberation.

    Some days I wanted to stomp on you, like all the others, when they puffed their last puff of your stub. I wanted to leave you out in the wild, so some animal would play with you, gnaw you to pieces, like an old weathered ragged doll... shreds everywhere.

    If you were lucky, they’d eat you whole, but most likely they tore out your marrow and left the husks, to blow in the wind.

    I couldn’t do that to you. It would hurt me to much, if I treated you less than a quality brand of tobacco. I was tempted though, so many times, tempted by your many crimes.

    I wasn’t ready to say goodbye, I dropped dead from hypoxia, if only my lungs had more oxygen, I’d still be alive to hold you... one more time.

    A nephew wrote and read this at my funeral. They all thought it was cute from a five year old. I don’t get the cuteness, do you?
    “Your are dead! So many puffs off her head. Now you’re dead, now you’re dead, now you’re dead, you took one to many puffs off her head
    Quick as that, now you’re dead”!
    Ha! Ha!

    I wasn’t the only casualty from our intimate tryst, of my lips and her butt.
    My lungs and heart never forgave us.

    She woke this morning and couldn’t breathe, six feet of dirt was piled on her,
    nestled deep in the wilderness, out of reach of children.

    That’s how my family felt about her.

    They buried her alive, without a care for my feelings towards her or her own wellbeing.

    They didn’t find our intimacy and our lack of privacy all that amusing

    At the least, they could have done, was returned the packs... for a full refund

    William Henry Mills Jr
    05-02-2018/ 04-05-2019

    #poem #poetry #asphyxiation #wordporn #write #writers #selfimmolation #slowsuicide
    #Stopsmoking #smokingkills #thetruth #lungcancer #deathmints #addiction #cancerstick #cigarettes #cigs #lifeordeath #pallmall #marlboro #winston #oldcowboys #cowboys #themarlboroman #cigaretteskill #deathstick #finishit #quit #timetoquit

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  • simran462 149w

    The smoke's not from your cigar
    It's from your pyre's char!!

  • prady33 172w

    This is for all of you who smoke !

    Think nvread this before you smoke. Quit smoking , stop hurting yourself

    #stopsmoking #hurting #help #mirakee @writersnetwork @mirakeeworld @mirakee

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    I held on to the barbed wire and let no one see
    I cried so loud for help and let no one hear
    I stumbled to walk and let no one help
    I was drowning inside my own sea
    I burned into fuming ashes just to be

    Is there anyone who can help me do it again?

    Coz that's the only feeling left of me
    over n over again


  • me_n_autumn 173w

    For so called educated people.
    #mirakee #nosmoking#stopsmoking

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    With a every cigerrete you light,
    It burns every penny your parents wasted on your education!


  • poetmissing 185w


    I woke this morning being asphyxiated by her soft tender lips. My lungs felt like they were bleeding fire and searing my tastebuds with after death mints.

    William Henry Mills Jr

  • sindhu_dhasarathan 195w

    புகைத்துப் புகைத்து கணவன் புற்றுநோயை உருவாகுகிறான்...

    மனைவி அவன் நினைவினால் புகைந்து புகைந்து தன்னைத்தானே புண்ணாக்கி கொள்கிறாள்...

    ~த. சிந்து

  • abhishjainsher 221w

    | Smoke |

    You wanna keep your grief aside FOREVER ?

    Keep smoking !!!


  • _____gabru_____ 230w

    शोक और आदत में फर्क समझिए दोनों को एक समझने की गलती ना कीजिए

    Nah....I Am Not Inspiring Anyone To Smoke While You Are In Pain Or Something Like Stress Or Breakup Kind Of Things...But It's Like,Not Everyone Is Same...Some Are Self Motivated Some People's Need To Get Motivated...And Some People Took Help Of This Thing's...People Who Don't Have Anyone To Share Their Feelings With Anyone...And One Thing,It Never Does Gender Discrimination ���� And One More Thing...Now Start Judging My Nature,Character And What Type Of People I Am...Cause It's My Experience Speaking Writing ����✌✌ #WritersCommunity #WriterCommunity #WritersBlog #StorysOfIndia #MyStory #ChainSmokers #NoSmoking #StopSmoking #Saynotosmoking #Saynototobaco #Injurious #Writer #Writers #Writing #Quotes #Cigarette #StressBuster #Somewherehelps #Smoke #Heals #Feelings

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    Experience Speak Write

    Smoking Kills,
    But Sometimes,It Heals...

    -Kunal Sharma

  • amorfati 231w

    Smoking may provide you a sense of relief and a hint of satisfaction for a moment but at the same time it is killing you inside out
    #StopSmoking #rwu_elvis #writersnetwork #pod #readwriteunite @readwriteunite @writersnetwork @repost @mirakee @mirakeeworld

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    Once who was always trapped in the trance of those cancer sticks,
    is now fast asleep,
    and the eulogy written,
    is the proof that
    Elvis has left the building.