"I am hearing poetry when awake, dreaming poetry when asleep, breathing poetry with each breath, I am living in a poem."

Monday, February 4, 2013

Hell On the Tip of Her Cigarette

She spoke from a black and white
photograph the bourbon she had for lunch.

I will smoke
my way to death
and light the flames
of hell by my own hand.

The finger of the holy
can find someone
else to condemn.

I tire of the sound
of their Bible thumping
while trying to keep
their secrets from
escaping closet doors.

©Susie Clevenger 2013


Brian Miller said...

oh dang...nice thumb in their hypocrisy....at least she lights it by her own finger you know....nice direct voice when you transition to her...

Fireblossom said...

Woohoo! My kind of woman. This poem doesn't worry about raising its voice and turning heads. It wants to!

Sherry Blue Sky said...

Makes me think about my mom, who was about that gorgeous, who smoked and drank and Did It Her Way. Cool poem, kiddo!

Ellecee said...

Love this poem, says it how it is,,,for her at least,,,we all need to speak up for ourselves,,,, :-)

sheila said...


my heart's love songs said...

LOVE this! so often it's the hypocrites who spend the most time pointing fingers.

by the way, your blog header is gorgeous!

Ben Ditty said...

Wow! The first stanza really moved me. Perhaps living life to the fullest, or being resigned to its consequences?

daydreamerdreams said...

I really like this and it is so true!

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