If I had a choice about going to a meeting at a studio or changing a nappy, I'd choose the nappy.
quote by Tim Burton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cosmic Friend
Written by: r. robinson & c. robinson
Down and dirty nappy
Tired sad nasty
Its not everlasting
Its bound to turn around
Need a little sweetness
A little reason to your rhyme
I got something for you
A little sugar for your mind
Hear the bells ringing
Send it down the line
Thank you for the sharing
I get you back next time
Chorus:
My friend the cosmos is calling
Sayin we all should be shining
Dont you be a stranger
We like you hanging around
Be thankful of the laughter
Praise for the sound
When youre feelin lonely
You know just what to do
Put on track eleven
Get on with the groove
Chorus
Now weve reached the ending
Im sad this song is gone
But we can start at the beginning
And we can all sing along
Down and dirty nappy
Tired sad nasty
Its not everlasting
Its bound to turn around
song performed by by Black Crowes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Ride
[SKINNY DEVILLE]
feelin easy like its sunday morning steak and eggs
hey livin off some big rims lookin like some blades
play her like a pimp type a nigga aint me
with the tint the 35 percent so ya cant see
fish scales shotgun pass the "L" to big V
flip flop candy lookin so wet it drip drop (shiiiine)
from the tip top chrome double duce
make a bitch stop jaw drop ballin off this hip hop
on a budget back and forth from kentucky
we them type of niggas that crack corn in a bucket
a hundred and ninety spoke god damn
look but dont touch it we commin down I-65
nappy and company (vertical grills) on the cadilac we so real
skinny deville return like a bat out of hell
hell dont ya think nappy roots comin as well
Big V
song performed by by Nappy Roots from Watermelon Chicken & Gritz
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To Not Choose
i made my choice
and my choice was to not choose
what happens next
is not of my choosing
but merely a consequence
of my indecision
so be kind to my lack of choice
it was the only way
to not be forced between two goods
and instead be made to have ONE
and in that one, is my future
my future of wellbeing
and knowing that
i did not choose wrongly
(heh, i don't know what's up with my writing style lately... it's very much NOT structured... or rhyming all that much... hmm...)
poem by Something Changing
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A Baby With His Whiskers On (Fun Poem 115)
One day a gypsy came to the door
selling a sprig of heather.
Cross my palm with silver
and I’ll make your wish come true.
I gave some silver coins
and she gave me a green and purple pill.
“Take this last thing at night
and tomorrow your wish will be granted.”
I took her green and purple pill
just as she had instructed.
Next morning I awoke still with my whiskers on,
but my poor wife almost had fit
thinking she’d had a baby in the night.
The magic had changed me rapidly
and now I looked only three.
My wish had been to look younger,
it had come very true,
and the magic had turned me
back to the age of three.
My wife was all fingers and thumbs
wondering just what to do.
How was she going to take me out,
a baby of three with his whiskers on?
I looked like her grandson
and not her husband o f many years.
Even I began to wonder how long
it would take before the magic wore off.
Days moved into weeks
and a baby with his whiskers on
I remained to be.
People took photos of me
not quite believing what they saw.
One day my wife took me to the park
and around in the grass I crawled,
a baby with his whiskers on wearing a nappy.
Then suddenly and without warning,
I came back to my normal age.
Now everybody stared at me,
a man in his sixties in the park with only a nappy on.
I managed to get home
without being arrested,
but had to stay in the car until after dark
in case anyone saw me go in.
The moral of this story,
be careful what you wish for,
as the consequences will not
be exactly what you think
and never take
any green and purple pills from a gypsy.
poem by David Harris
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Metaphor
A pretty girl
is like a simile
and vice-a-versa
so I'd say
for like the sunlight it
delights our so prosaic day
and life is better for
a metaphor
when apposite
to what you write
the first I used
that made some sense
came out of childish
innocence
before I read
the word in prose
I thought that what
just goes and goes
was 'dire rear' -
not too bad
as an idea
for a nappy-happy lad?
poem by Michael Shepherd
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What Other Place Is More Mixed Up
Black is the color of my skin.
Well...
Not really 'black' black.
But kinda mocha.
You see,
My mother had been referred to as 'high yella'
And my father dark complected.
My sisters and I have this brownish tone.
My hair?
Nappy.
Well...
Not 'nappy' in the conventional sense.
You see,
I have dreads.
They look like braids.
But they are not.
My race?
Gee,
Let's see.
I remember when I was a 'kid'
I was then a Negro.
Then there was that dreaded 'N' word.
Then I became Black.
And 'proud' of course.
To be mistaken as an American Indian,
West Indian, Puerto Rican, Mexican...
And even Italian!
YES.
Because of my last name.
Well...what 'is' you?
Then I had an uncle,
Who thought he had to correct all of our dictions.
'Speak clearly! Enunciate.'
I would hate to visit my cousins.
'Is your father at home?
I hope not! '
Then there was a period when I was told,
'You think you white?
Trying to talk proper! '
Today?
I think more about getting my bills paid.
Or the ones I do pay.
I can not concern myself with race.
There are white folks wearing their hair in dreads.
Hair 'nappier' than mine!
Close your eyes and listen to today's music.
Is that Eminem? Justin Timberlake? Robin Thicke?
They sound better than some blacks that do it!
Madonna ain't no Beyoncé.
But neither is Patti a Gladys Knight or Chaka
Or Sarah Vaughn.
And that list can go on and on.
And Frank? Sinatra! Elvis, the Pelvis!
You know what?
With all this talk about color and race...
What other place is more mixed up than America?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Babysitter
Is there anybody out there with a baby
That can cry as much as this one on my arm?
Seems there's nothing I can do to stop him screaming,
Seems there's nothing I can do to keep him calm.
I dosed him up with 'calpol ' like they told me,
The husband he was sure that it would work;
I put him on my shoulder and I patted him,
And patted it back up, I felt a berk.
I wondered if his nappy needed changing,
It did, I cleaned him up, and then felt sick;
Alas, it made no difference to his screaming,
The noise is really getting on my wick.
Is there anybody out there with the knowledge,
Is there anyone who knows what I can do?
Oh no! again, looks like it's baby versus 'calpol, '
A pint of it is pouring on my shoe.
His mother said he is a little darling,
With golden hair and eyes of china-blue;
You wouldn't think that such a little darling
Could cry as much as him, what can I do?
The time is really dragging, what a nightmare,
The kettle's boiling over on the hob;
I wish I'd never joined the bloomin' boy-scouts,
The next time they can shove their bob-a-job!
Written Jan 1996
poem by John Carter Brown
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The Man Standing In The Mirror
The smile returned upon it greeting,
The word exchanged upon it's meeting.
Spiritual gifts versus, the meeting of the minds.
Which do I try to control more?
My disposition, or another's position?
Which do I consider more?
I have the choice to choose.
Do I choose wisely?
I do not know best.
Though father does.
Yet I follow my heart,
I do not follow His teachings.
Then everything falls apart.
On the treadmill,
No closer to the destination.
'Why have you forsaken me? ' I ask.
But who made the choice?
Cheating at the game of life.
The rule book is not there to control,
But to teach me of self control.
Yet it's another's control I seek.
Constant despair.
Faith will move a mountain.
I am the mountain.
The faith moved me.
Moved me to action.
For it was very small inside.
But as I sought, I grew.
It also grew.
Others are my true reflection.
To find the reflection I seek,
I must first look inward.
To change the man that stands in front of the mirror.
poem by Ryan Lee Morris
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Try 4 (A Happy)
In my mind happy is a choice
You either choose to be happy or
you choose to get by
A life of horror's ritual or
a simple joy's choice
All held by the type of smile of nature's will
Lonely has a hold
Life never travels right
Yet what always stands, is choice
Never too late, the choice to try
Also is the choice to be happy
poem by Kelvin Owusu
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Success And Image And The Face Of It
Those who say,
Looks aren't everything!
Aren't the ones who are judged,
Based solely upon them.
And besides...
This can be deducted,
From what many prize.
Thick lips, nappy hair and brown eyes...
Are not considered standards,
By those who analyze.
Not for a beauty,
Considered to be immortalized.
No matter who is competent...
In a package that is presented!
If it doesn't suit the taste,
For those who select an image to digest.
As an appearance,
That suggests success...
And not a waste to regret.
It will be the 'image' one picks,
Over a competence that 'may' exist.
'But hasn't it been image and not substance,
That has increased in an invited decadence? '
Well...
Yes.
'But who in reality today believes? '
Remember this...
Image speaks volumes.
And easier to hype.
On the other hand...
Reality is something placed,
On an equality wish list...
Not too soon to happen,
For the sake of changing...
Success and image and the face of it!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Recognition of happy
Addition
not subtraction
as a qualification
for happy.
Since I was in a nappy
thru' my lifes articulation
I'll retain a seperation
from subtraction
of anything from my lifes interaction
with happy.
So, on inspection
of what my expectation
is of happy,
I glean much relaxation
with no diversification
from happy
happy
HAPPY
poem by George BernardBloodyShaw
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Choice of life
Human have a gift named a choice
Human have an illusion named a choice
There is no other creature that should decide more to live
Human have a hope called a choice
Human have despair called a choice
There is no other creature that trapped often in such continuous and repeat conflict
Some could turn good because one choice
Some could turn bad because one choice
All have the consequence but right or wrong will never be known before
Human have a wish for a choice
Human have regret for a choice
There is no other creature that always goes between happiness and sorrow
When a choice made not all may be satisfied
When a choice made not all may be rescued
But the change will never happened if we stay silent
Human have fate to choose
Human also choose their fate
The interaction of those things will create what people called the choice of life
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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Nappy Head
Your hair is dirty, good sir -
Said an innocent child to me one day.
I have what they call African hair,
A natural nappy head.
Its brownish colour they call mousy
What I really would like called auburn.
And so the kid had observed,
She was innocent though
And I had to explain to her
That the same creator who endowed her
With her long beautiful black curly hair
Had also done the same with my kinky mousy one!
poem by Kimani wa Mumbi
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Wicked
Intro: (some dreadhead, wont translate to avoid offending)
Verse 1:
One, two, three and I come with the wicked
Style and you know that Im from the wicked
Crew, act like you knew
Cos I got everybody jumpin to the voodoo
Pick it, wicked rhymes, picket signs
While me and the mob gotta truck full of 9s]
Play ya and Ill slay ya
I got thug-made dough by the hey-a
Ready to buck buck buck and its a must
To duck duck duck before I bust
Lookin for the one that did it
But like en vogue, no youre never gonna get it
Cos Im the one with the fat mad skills
And I wont choke like the buffalo bills
Sittin at the pad just chillin
Cos larry parker just got two million, oh what a feelin
So shake that nigga and pass me the pill
And Ill slam dunk ya like shaquille oneal
Like it, dig it, maybe and watch that test tube baby
Kick it cos I get wicked
Chorus: (some toaster, once again wont translate to avoid offending)
Verse 2:
Wont say nuttin, just listen
Got me a plan to break tyson outta prison
Come my way and get served
Still got a duece thatll bunny hop the curb
Nappy head, nappy chest, nappy chin
Never seen with a happy grin
Show the fat foul cos Im down
Take a look around
And all you see is big black boots steppin
Use my steel toe as a weapon
Kick ya and flip ya, now they want to
Label this nigga, tape with the sticker
Kickin out girls thats nicety
Yo, I gotta body count like ice-t
From here to new york
I get skins and aint talkin bout pork
Swine, pig, dick
Listen to the flow of a so-called negro
Who didnt know I was funky as wilson pickett
Dig it cos I get wicked
Chorus
Verse 3:
People wanna know how come
I gotta gat and Im lookin out the window like malcolm
Ready to bring that noise
Kinda trigger happy like the ghetto boys
April 29th was power to the people
And we might just see a sequel
Cos police got equal pay
A horse is a pig that dont fly straight
Doin darryl gates but is willie williams
Down with the pilgrims
Just a super slave
Well have to break his ass up like super dave
Im wicked enough to board this
Cos now its on to the fullest
Gorilla straight from the mist
But I dont miss when it comes to this
Bring the yellow tape
The white cape, cos Im so straight
Thru with the picket signs, take his job and stick it
Bigot, cos I get wicked
song performed by by Ice Cube
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Inalienable right.
All hail to ale, good honest ale
the comforter when all else fails.
The lack of ale makes stout hearts fail.
Attempts to ban it doomed to fail.
When things are looking at their worst.
A man has need to quench his thirst
Ale is what men think of first
A man would truly be accursed.
Should he attempt to interfere
between a thirsty man and beer.
There is no doubt its very clear.
Without ale life would be too drear.
It is a right for which I’d fight.
Ripe nappy ale is my delight.
Saturday,08 May 2010
Http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Am Closer To You
You do not have to be alone.
You choose to be that way.
You do not have to be on your own.
That's the choice you made to obey.
I have never been that far away,
From you that you could not reach.
I have never been that far away,
From you if you needed to hear me speak.
You do not have to be alone.
You choose to be that way.
You do not have to be on your own.
That's the choice you made to obey.
And I understand you,
More that I can say.
You choose to be that way.
And I am closer to you,
Than you ever suspected you knew!
It is almost as if we are 'one'...
Not two.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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To A Gentleman
I hope, Sir, by this you have found your Account,
In visiting Airy, and seeing his Mount:
If Froth can delight you, you're wonderous happy;
And we know it gives Joy on a Bottle of Nappy.
Your Friend would be very much mended, in troth,
Should Airy bestow him a Dash of his Froth:
To keep up the Metaphor, 'twould make him mellow,
And of a sour Stoic, a pleasant young Fellow;
And Airy be recompens'd well for that Favour,
If your Friend, in Return, should make him grow graver.
This Exchange should they make, it would set 'em both right;
Since one is too solid, and t'other too light.
poem by Mary Barber
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Merry Xmas Everyone
A very merry merry Xmas to everyone on earth,
May I send all my love to all and just leave me but dearth,
You see if all my love is gone for sending it all to you's,
Ringing out with merry merry Xmas news.
I know it will return a thousand fold with jingle jingle bells,
With everyone around their own wishing wells.
The festive season is near
So everyone have a happy happy new year.
An babies new have a happy nappy new year too
poem by Ken e Hall
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Litterbugs
LITTERBUGS.
HUMAN BEINGS DON’T HALF MAKE ME BITTER
WHEN THEY’VE FINNISHED FEEDING THEIR FACES
THEY JUST DISCARD THE LITTER
CARTONS FROM THEIR CKICKEN AND CHIPS
CIGARETTE ENDS THAT THEY SHOOT FROM THE HIP
COKE AND PEPSI, EVEN HALF FULL
GINGER BEER, HEINEKEN AND RED BULL
FROM MY HIGH RISE FLAT A NAPPY GOES BY, THAT SOMEONES TRIED TO FLING
THE NEXT TIME I WAS RELEIVED …IT WAS ONLY A PIGEON ON THE WING
DON’T SAY A WORD, THEY’LL GET OFFENDED
BECAUSE THEIR ANTISOCIAL WAYS CANT BE MENDED.
BRIAN ROY SKYERS
12.09.2011.
poem by Brian Roy Skyers
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Choose or Lose
Every day there's a fork in the road.
Do you settle for pie less a la mode?
Are you the seller or being sold?
Are you the teller or being told?
If you choose, you might be right;
If you don't, you lose the fight…
A fight to know where you stand,
Pursuing ways solely you planned.
If afraid to choose, you surely lose,
Missing chances only you refuse.
That choice is there just for you.
Let not love nor money dim your view.
In name and gender you had no choice.
Now able to choose, in unflinching voice,
Proclaim that friends you select
Reflect your own self respect.
Decide what's best and then believe
What you choose you will receive.
Accept no less than your worth.
You're the only one of you on earth!
poem by Gregory Huyette
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