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| Friday, January 16, 2004 |
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romancing the smoke. cig. yosi. fag. butt. bum. words that commonly refer to what wreaks havoc in your bodyflow. Whether it be air, blood or stress. the most common theme of poetry is love. second is death. mine is smoking.
it is difficult to date one that does not resemble yourself in more ways than one. aghast is the cliche': opposites attract. notice how many smokers end up together? the cancer that revolves between you is like your perfume and cologne dancing in mid-air - it is a connection.
needless to say, i will quit one day. i remember quitting effortlessly for three months. the great test was when i threw jane a despedida party in the brash basement with every guest smoking a storm. i was covered in a carcinogenic cloud without even the slightest urge to taste one. but once i started in AIM, it all came back to me like 2nd nature. stress makes me breathless.
in my poems i relate smoking to other addictions - unrequited fervor, the need to work to my health's demise, the desire to be useful. And so even in my fear of being criticized by more eloquent poets, i'm posting my poem i wrote a few months ago...though i am a fan of aliteration more than rhyme.
Unrelenting
BY M.E.
I stare at the twists and turns of gray
They envelope my scrutiny
They dance on end, graceful liquid air
I alone live this ceremony.
I draw it in, then exhale
The orange flickers tickle vision
Engulf a cancer through my lips
Like your sweetness, my absorption.
Accumulating ashes land on the ground below.
My fingertips are flaxen with familiarity
I continue to inflict myself until I am numb
Like the delusion of your memory.
You are like a box of Turkish delight
Seductive and unwavering
Such a short interlude
Leaving its imprint on my wasting
The gray waste should be evidence enough
Your adoring lies will leave me dry
But like this element that will one day kill me
I persist to disregard destiny’s cry. |
posted by maldita @ 7:47 PM
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