Category Archives: smoking

There’s social distancing and then there’s anti-social dipsticks. Another sad but true story.

Easter Eggs.

I went for a contemplative stroll this Easter weekend,
Round our slow lazy river I thought I’d quietly wend,
Then three dumb asses came roaring round the bend.

Three Bandidos blasted past, patched and proud,
Three buddies passing a pipe- that’s not allowed.

It was Mesrrs Harley and Davidson plus their Indian friend,
It’s an unmuffled and strident message those bad boys send,
Just what part of ‘quiet Easter weekend’ can’t they comprehend?

A party of three, in days when three’s a crowd?
Three Bandidos two many, and too fucking loud.

 

(Egg is a Kiwi term for a dipstick/dipshit/dickhead/dropkick, etc.)

 

©Obbverse

Getting to know the people in the neighborhood. Not your average Sesame Street meeting, one suspects. Do I see some recognition in the eyes of one or two souls I pass on the street? Nah, I must be imagining things. I keep walking.

Lost In The Cosmos.

Oh, where did you go to, my lady fair?,
Why, wherever I look why are you there?
In the library, outside Walgreen’s, everywhere,
You haunt my dreams, you poor living nightmare.

Just how did you develop that st-st-st-stutter?
Why do you shuffle along and ceaselessly mutter?
Why do those faded blue eyes peer into the gutter?
What shocking treatment made you our resident nutter?

No cast away dog-end ever escapes your gaze
Despite you wandering ’round in a perpetual daze,
Were you once smoking hot back in your glory days?
Did acid or pipe leave this smoldering testament of user pays?

She looks all too ready for a last trip in a black limousine.
You say I’m a cold callous prick, evil nasty and mean?
No, I am seeing all too clearly what might have been,
Counting my lucky stars and damn glad to be clean.

 

©Obbverse

A plea (in the ear) to Aussie PM Scott Morrison. As their bushfires rage on, their smoke drifts over and engulfs two little islands those Aussies love to belittle. Ps: Lawbreakers born in New Zealand, even if they moved to Oz as babes in arms, can and have been deported ‘back home’ to NZ.

A Call From Your Neighborly Kiwis.

Scotty, pal, mate, sorry to interrupt your holiday,
You’re hot and frazzled but we’ve something to say,
We’ve put up with becoming the dumping ground
For the Kiwi criminal element you’ve forensicly found.

We don’t mind your cricketers condescending views,
We don’t mind pitching over the ditch fresh fire crews,
We Kiwis don’t mind being the butt of your every joke,
But Scott, don’t dump on us with your second hand smoke.

 

©Obbverse

The President gets all up in arms and goes ape over vaping.

Dry Cough.

Don is going to make a stand,
Donald wants vaping banned,
Donald sees that noxious cloud
And decides ‘that can’t be allowed.’

Donald knows its deadly stuff;
It all starts with just one puff
Then kids are dying in the streets
According to Don’s concerned tweets.

How many lives will Don’s law save
From puffing away into an early grave?
See, Don can do what’s good and right,
Might he yet become our shining light?

Don has proved saving lives can be done,
Now, can he handle the NRA smoking gun?
Shoot down the leading cause of accidental death?
I wouldn’t hold my breath.

 

©Obbverse

Notre Dame, you’ll be the ruination of me. Consider this a rather un-PC silly and frivolous french folly.

Merde Feu.

What a damnable shame,
Seeing grand old Notre Dame
Fired up and aflame.

Due to the fire
The ol’ Dame does require
A bigger better spire.

When the roof fell
It left Gods glorious citadel
Blazing like merry Hell.

With the roofs falling
The conflagration became, frankly appalling,
For the French, galling.

Above the gathering crowd
Arose a bitter Gauloises cloud-
Smoking oughtn’t be allowed.

One man, eyes a’stinging,
Amongst klaxons blaring, bells a’ringing,
Stands hunched, hands a’wringing.

 

©Obbverse

Who could sleep last night what with the excitement of Santa Claus’ impending arrival? Looking up to the sooty sky I could scarcely imagine the stress on that ol’ coot in the red suit… Anyway , something sparked the imagination.

Merrily On High.

Down the chimney Santa Claus went
But he’s a touch laden down at present,
For Santa may wish to discharge his duty
But Santa Claus is carrying too large a booty.

The dazed and confused residents below
Heard his ‘Yo ho ho’ become an ‘uh-oh.’

Santa was stuck fast ‘neath the chimney pot-
Speaking of which, pot is legal now, is it not?
They puffed and strained to smoke the stout fellow out
But a man of Santa’s weight can butt wait and mellow out.