The Other Dagga Smoker’s Prayer
- Details
- Written June 2013
Lined up with the law
Separating thee from me –
Saviour from Sinner;
Released from Pollsmoor
And already wooed into hiding
Behind the bushes of Grassy Park
Past the mosque on Busy Corner
Where the hippos laugh with a calf,
Jaws open, devouring the statutes
Stored away and tied up with pink bows.
So thank you, God
For the joys of a Puffing Billy
Chuffing away in our dreams,
On sleepers rolled out for the railway
Taking us to Never-Never Land,
Where all we’ll want is another draw
Tranquilised into clouds of unreality,
Looking left and right in case there’s a cop
Though all they’d want is one of ours
Before we’re back to square one
As they lock us up.
These weeds be cursed and deeds reversed;
We’re trapped and sapped of goodness
When I know I should be rid of it.
But the habit dies hard,
Surviving until we fizzle out,
Becoming nothing but a human
With a sizzled brain, reduced to ash
That goes up with the smoke
That signals a new-found pope.
Maybe he’ll hear my cry,
Grasping at something like straw.
June 2013
Around Zeekoevlei in the Cape Peninsula, South Africa.
See also A Dagga Smoker's Prayer