by | Jul 1, 2008 | Poetry | 0 comments

The government had a plan
To wipe us ashtrays out
“ Let’s implement a Smoking Ban ”
In Parliament they shout

July the First, in one foul swoop
I’m instantly redundant
The tables now stand empty
Where once we were abundant

I miss the warmth of fag ends
And matches burning down
I miss the stubby fingers
All nicotine and brown

Sometimes we’d get stolen
From cafes, clubs, and bars
Taken home in handbags
Kidnapped in their cars

Now I’m used in bedrooms
For loose change from their pockets
Or even worse, for holding up
A bank of broken sockets

I miss the smokey atmosphere
The laughter and the glee
Sometimes I’d get a little drunk
If beer was spilled in me

The sounds of “ Pass The Ashtray “
We’ll never hear again
This phrase should be our epitaph
Let history not be swain

The people of the future
Will not know we existed
A little glass receptacle
Now bitter and all twisted

Thousands crushed and broken
Recycled, born anew
Wiped out in a single day
To please The Chosen Few

So I’m a worried ashtray
Waiting for my fate
Unless they pinch another one
And then I’ll have a mate

So think of me, when in the pub
And wonder where I’ve gone
Sod the other ashtrays


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