Ode to all who smoke...

My cousin is a smoker.  Smoker with a capital "S".   He just underwent by-pass surgery at a very young age.  It was FIVE by-passes... what is that quintuplet?  whatever it is it's very rare...  For the last two weeks leading up to the surgery, our family was on pins&needles - "would he be okay?  What was going to happen?" we all wondered.

Happy to say surgery went well.  He's recovering and we're all praying that this life-threat will get him to finally quit smoking.

I used to smoke - the worst kind - a "social" smoker.

"I'm really such an ass..."

 I only smoke when I drank.... in another words I was an asshole.  Seven years ago, I quit drinking and the smoking went with it.  I can only thank God that my three beautiful children never saw or know that their father once was so stupid to smoke.

I smoked because it was cool  It really was:  the addiction, the need, the rebellion and Jesus, did it make a beer taste better.  But these days I'm so much more cowardly than I used to be and I just want to live  - live as long as I can.  So when I see people smoking, I want to tell them, "Don't", I want to give them a hug and say, "I get it", I want to punch them in the freaking mouth and tell them, "Grow the F%$ck up!" But most of all, I want to tell them, "Get ready, because you are going to suffer horribly and regret this moment along with all the others you took Death's dick into your mouth... Oh, and your clothes smell really GROSS...."

A friend of mine still smokes - cigars.   I've tried to tell he to stop.   She laughs it off.  She nods knowingly.  She laments her addiction.  But she KEEPS smoking and if she lives long enough, it's going to kill her.  This morning, I wrote a poem for her - and for all smokers.  I hope you like it.

"I don't need to smoke to look like an asshole"

 SMOKE

If smokes were dicks you'd be considered a whore

But they're not so you smoke more and more.

Death shooting it's load like a cloud of smoke.

You deep throat his dick and laugh at those jokes.

Til one day - too late - and you can't turn back

Death busted his nut and it's on the attack.

Cough. Cough. Spit. Spit.

Blood is in your lungs.

Doctor's grim non-smiling face

Knowing your painful death has come.

Suffering ride awaits you now

ticket has been paid.

Cigarettes are laughing now

Another smoker laid.
Wish you didn't date this guy
But bitch you all get played.


Alan Aymie is a writer, teacher and performer.   His most recent play, A CHILD LEFT BEHIND played in Los Angeles for the last eight months and was selected as one of the top five solo productions in LA.