Cannibus: 1970s and 1980s
April 21, 2012

The Coptics imprinted on their hearts
the first book of Genesis,

But when their children were caught taking
a toke, they were instant menaces.

It's was the saga of the seed. The ganga-cloud
       permeating - and all that smuggling.

It seemed there was so much to convince -
Mr. Reilly, oh, Brother Louv, you're even-worded but struggling.

What were those bales in the water? Hay?
Perhaps it was all that haze that added to your gray?

Ooo, la, la, la.
I wanna go to Jamaica.

Praise be for wild grass,
And no need for a social class.

It's agreed: the kids at church weren't in tiffs.
But, yep, anyone would be calm from tootin' fat spliffs.

Old man rastafarian,
What's really in that brown bag you carryin'?

Breathe in, breathe deeply that deep green crushed leafy rappee.
Do you think old Marc Garvey would be happy?

A legacy, your holy tenement.
Puff it. Sweet, but not like cantulope.
Your sacrament, ole' sacrament.
Just make it plain and call it dope.

© 2012 Jarrod C. Lacy