The Wizard was late by A.D. Labuschagne

A.D. Labuschagne | April 6th, 2021 | poetry | 1 Comment


Sitting outside the coffee shop,
At a table on the sidewalk
I can barely curb my enthusiasm
This must be what white privilege looks like
As I pretend to be a patron
Waiting for the Magic Man

I watch the cars go by
The ignorant
The joyful

I watch the hours go by
Wishing, wanting
Waiting for my bliss

But the wizard is running late
His silver ship is slow to today
And so, I smoke cigarette after cigarette
Nursing the empty cup before me
Within me…
As insanity takes over
Waiting for the Magic Man

Comatose and morose
Nearly catatonic
As my mind rages for the next fix
Not even a high
But the next hit,
Just enough to get by
I need his powders, pills and potions
Before I get undone
I send another message,
And another one, and another one
On behalf of this beast I cannot sate
And this is but a glimpse of what goes on
When the wizard’s running late…
Trying to survive as best I can
Until the Magic Man arrives…

Poet Bio

Andre Darius Labuschagne is a poet, musician, and pastor from Johannesburg, South Africa. He is currently involved with various church movements – and his theological and philosophical beliefs are reflected in his poems. A recovering drug addict, his poetry also explores themes of mental illness, substance abuse, finding God, and the process of growing towards completeness. He is currently the pastoral counsellor at Lethlabile Halfway House, and hopes to help many overcome their battles with mental health and substance abuse issues.

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1 thought on “The Wizard was late by A.D. Labuschagne”

  1. Dear A.D. Labuschagne.
    I like the part “I can barely curb my enthusiasm.” This is a sad poem: it seems, the life of an addict is “full,” but in reality, he or she has nothing.

    I wish you the best day of your life!


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