Drug dealers

In flashy cars they came,
merchants of a deadly thing
some delivering, some advertising
as if they had captured
the true essence of life

streaming in from all over
the continent, as news
of their prosperity went
to the ends of Africa

and unafraid of the law
controlled women on the street
always eager to meet
one more, trying to create
the ultimate gangster’s paradise.

At clubs they danced, bedazzled little girls
and boys, coming with very clever ploys
even at schools everywhere were ensnaring
children to buy their wares

and some even were addicted
to their own poison
smoking, sniffing, taking
and injecting
the catalyst of death.

Under their disguises and lies
about eternal fun not even one
could hide
the filth of the moor
could really get the goblin
and the marsh and bush out of them
and the wicked merchantmen
made every city their haunted glen.

[Reference: Goblin market by Christina Rossetti.]

poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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