Least Read Poems About Tobacco

Light billowy wisps
a most evil kind of fog
like grey ink in water
shedding itself all over
tossed as puffed rings
such playful things
doing its tipsy gypsy dance

to lull then dull the pain

The phantom again dances
taking its chances
in the predawn hours
coiling upon itself

Stairstepping ever higher
as if now to conspire
in some wicked plot
some wicked game

For grey is the way
the color of ambiguity
the color of mystery
writing its own history

Leaving plenty of room
for evil to again bloom
in all of its dark beauty
to again reign in the night

As I still strive to write
some pencil thin line
in an attempt to define
that having no clear...

Wish you step back from that ledge, my friend" ~ Third Eye Blind
 
   
I guess we all have them  
these ledges  
where each of us hedges  
all of our bets  
   
Gathering up our regrets  
into a straw basket  
tied up with a baby blue bow  
so everyone will know  
   
Right before we toss it  
before we ditch it  
let gravity take the blame  
or any other name  
   
To avoid any culpability  
maintain a civility  
in this uncivil scene  
frothing at the bridled bit  ...

Funny how the flick
of a Bic
can begin the quest
begin the ritual

As the orange tip
glows
with everything it knows
this paper wrapped wisdom

A slip between the lips
held there firm
filling the night air
with wisps of creativity

Defying all gravity
all metaphysical doubt
letting the words come out
from their slumbering sequestration

Feeling the tingling nicotine
tainting all things pristine
with a streetwise sense

only seen in flickering light