"dagga" poems
Ice cream
dreadlocks and dagga
somehow upended the cha-cha.
Jun 25, 2022
Jun 25, 2022 at 11:44 AM UTC
Sigarette en sonskyn
Dagga en rooiwyn
Ek wil vergeet
Ek wil gelukkig wees
Ek wil lewe sonder vrees
Maar die wereld gaan dood
En Armoede verstik aan droe brood
Ons vergaan
Ek nodig sigarette en sonskyn
Ek is opsoek na goeie tye met dagga en rooiwyn
Die wereld maak seer, maar ons kan vergeet
En probeer gelukkig wees.
Sep 2, 2019
Sep 2, 2019 at 3:22 AM UTC
Come back to me.
I yearn your bitter, yet velvety touch.
You make me blush,
I miss you in my lungs.
Come back to me.
You fill the void that you re-create,
Every time I let you escape,
From a crippled wage,
Or when I'm caught with you,
Perhaps, an inevitable mistake?
Through warm eyes of glass and scarlet,
and a poise futile to mask or fake.
I surrender myself to you,
I miss you in my lungs.
Come back to me.
Your tenderness so tempting,
An alluring angel, bleeding heavy dulcet scents,
Your essence, oozing of citrea and spice.
Your being, quite viscid and so dense.
A forbidden love, or merely a voluptuous vice?
I miss you in my lungs.
Come back to me.
Penetrating all anguish and woe.
Your pungent kiss flows through me,
Like lying hushed, in a beautiful, warm meadow.
When I'm with you, there's no where we cannot go,
Whisk away my poignant echoes.
I miss you in my lungs.
-FBS
May 26, 2017
May 26, 2017 at 7:34 AM UTC