As monoxide laps
At vessels to carry the air.
Taking a drag
That is my bag
And now my every care.
There was a time
When it was so fine
To smoke with a drink or two.
But now I’m trapped
And feel so crapped
On by the nicotine flue.
I feel it now
Go into my mouth
The filthy air does breed
Cancer to kill
I continue to feel the strong need
When I might
The will to fight
Then find to stop the curse.
I fear that I
May simply fly
Away from bad to worse
And so I smoke
In mouth do poke
The nasty coffin nail
The deadly bait
That’s coming without fail.
THE COCKROACH AND THE CRAWFISH
The bag was dragged to the cooking pot
and each small red creature knew of its lot.
The boiling water, so strong and so foul;
the first to enter did wail, scream, and howl.
But one escaped, he knew not just how,
when the bag flew open, he slipped out and now
began to scurry off to safer land
hoping to avoid, the hot cauldron’s hand.
He slipped along a surface of “rock”
as a cockroach appeared and started to mock.
For the roach was awaiting a morsel or scrap;
the thing that the humans would all call Lagniappe.
For anything living, the roach could not eat
and waiting for discards, he would take a seat.
But this one would threaten the entire feast;
the roach had to stop this tiny red beast.
So quickly he scurried out on the dance floor
as the crawfish made way for a wide open door.
And raising a ruckus, he started to point
at the crawfish a trying to leave the joint.
But a lady, on seeing, the helpful cockroach
screamed and retreated, but a man did approach
and lifting his foot high up in the air
he crushed the cockroach with nary a care.
On reaching the door, the crawfish did bow
and honor his friend for helping him wow
the crowd, so that they, never saw twice
the fish leave the door, for the bug’s sacrifice.