A Financial Manager in the new South Africa
The sun has risen like a large red ripe orange
and I can almost smell its ripeness
on the early morning air
and I am driving my brand new red BMW
with its leather seats,
dark windows, flaring South African flags
and large L-sign,
slowly through the old dilapidated pickups,
the old Jetta’s and ten year old cars
of the white folks
who are going to work
like a herd of cows.
BEE is a really great thing
and gave me the opportunity
to be promoted from filing clerk
to financial manger
and now my cousin
who was formerly a tea lady
is the personnel manager
and although the job seems tough
it doesn’t really matter
how I do it,
as long as I get to work on time
and drive the white minority to perform
and to stand in for me.
Sometimes facts and figures
goes right pass me, but my white deputy
certainly knows his stuff
and at times talks on my behalf,
especially at board meetings
and if he doesn’t buckle up
and toe the line
his job will be mine
to give to another
who bows down
and says yes boss to me.
Just now I will scratch my head,
put my feet on my desk
and ask aloud:
“right where am I now? ”
And when the figures
on the papers in front of me
doesn’t add up
shaking my head
I will remark:
“going nowhere slowly.”
The afternoon tea will indicate
that the working day is almost done
and it’s time to go home
where three wives will welcome me
and like a god I will walk
past the white employees
and stare at one of them
to scare the living daylight out of him
and ask if the assignment he is doing
is completed?
And I will take some files from him
and draw green lines at places
even if I do not comprehend
any of the calculations
and tonight I will shed my suit, shirt and tie
put on my traditional skins
sit in the shade of the old oak tree
at the back of my yard
around a pot of foaming beer
and will hear the voices
of my children and play with them,
have an orgy with all three my wife’s
and now I drink my tea
without spilling any from the cup
and the clock on the wall
tell me that its time to go home.
[References: BEE stands for: Black Economic Empowerment. A riot policeman by Christopher van Wyk.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Related quotes
There Must Be An Easier Way
To earn one's living there must be an easier way
Than working in a menial job for menial pay
You age so fast your hair prematurely gray
And you must work hard till your retirement day.
When you ask the boss for a raise his answer no
For a raise in pay you must have more to show
The unemployed are many and the jobs are few
And there's plenty more to do the job you do.
At 5.30 a m each work day from bed I rise
Before daylight has lit the morning skies
Then long drive to work in smoky old work van
Such is the lot of the common working man.
The chap next door seems better off than I
He does not work yet life he does enjoy
Whilst I'm at work he rest at home in bed
And he doesn't look deprived or underfed
With six year old son and a non working wife
He live an easy and a stress free life
And I've heard it said that he's never worked a day
But good luck to him is all that I can say.
I do not receive or seek sympathy
For there are many far worse off than me
But living life would be a lot more fun
If I did not have to rise before the sun
poem by Francis Duggan
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You Must Work To Make Ends Meet
Have you ever felt so tired as you struggle out of bed
And switch off the alarm clock with a throbbing in your head
At five thirty in the morning as dawn's lamp brighten the sky
And the fluting of the butcherbird to you is not a thing of joy.
And your wife she is still sleeping on the bed snoring she lay
You must make your own breakfast at five thirty a m of the new day
And as you leave for work at six thirty the children are asleep
But to work to keep your wife and family is a duty you must keep.
Your boss drives a new Mercedes which he need not share with his wife
He's just bought her a new B M W such are the ways of life
You work so hard for that man for what would seem as average pay
And you must drive in your old mid eighties Datsun to and from the work yard every day.
And when you ask your boss for a raise to you he always say
More young men come to me almost begging for a job start every day
You can forget a raise in wages and if you decide to quit that is okay
I won't even ask you for to stay on if working for me you don't wish to stay.
You do not like the man you work for he does not pay you nearly enough
Though you have just got to hang in there even though the going is tough
But you must work just to make ends meet you have got big bills to pay
And you drive your old eighties Datsun to and from the work yard every day.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Meeting Equals
Meeting Equals
White haired, the queen skin as bee wax, she
had a honeyed smile when shaking hands with
the president and his wife; how far they have
come she had said to her husband only this
morning. The presidents, the most powerful
family in the world, wonder if the children are
aware of that, and first lady, from a street wise
lawyer, to a wife whose job was to look pretty.
There was a great glow in the air, new time
meets old time and the past was hidden behind
a smile; however there was a question rumbling
in the first lady’s mind, but she pushed it back
for now: “why, it asked, are all the white folks so
exceedingly nice to us?
poem by Oskar Hansen
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It Really Doesn't Matter
You say your ugly, i say it doesn't matter.
You say you have a dark past,
i say it doesn't matter.
You say theirs overwhelming responsibility,
i say it doesn't matter.
I don't believe in walking away when things get hard.
In fact they are my spark to continue my march.
Through thick and thin where to begin.
You say you don't have a way.
I say it doesn't matter.
You say that you cant give back what you would like.
I say it doesn't matter.
You say, you say oh it really doesn't matter,
I live one day at a time.
Choices will be made that will save the day
but hurt me financially.
It doesn't matter Choice will be made
that will set me back in my expectations.
It doesn't matter,
It really doesn't matter.
Its well worth it.
To see the beauty that
you have placed before me.
Oh how its worth it.
To settle down and not be looking to be found.
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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The White Room
(SpringfieldVallance)
I can see her at her windows watching,
locked away inside her skin,
I can see her but I can't get to her, she won't come out,
and she won't let me into
The white room (she's living in)
Lying alone til she comes undone
In the white room, she burns for the real thing.
But it won't come.
In her head is the same obsession
and all the bottles and pills won't heal her heart.
She heard his last confession
and every word just tears her apart
In the white room (locked away)
doing time till her time is done
In the white room there's so much to say
but the words won't come.
Come back to the land of the living,
when you gonna break the chain,
there's so much too much that you're leaving
and you're never gonna stop the rain
In the white room.
waiting for the call that never comes
in the white room, she awaits.
Look at something long enough you'll find,
that the splinters and the cracks begin to show,
I'll be the first in line when the walls start falling
and she lets go of
The white room (it's late)
living alone only makes you numb
In the white room she burns for the real thing
but it won't come
In the white room (she's living in) I think its time
that you're time is done,
In the white room she burns
In the white room (it's late)
lying alone till she comes undone
In the white room she awaits
In the white room
song performed by by Rick Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Countryside
Patches of dark grey clouds
and streaks of white clouds
on the greenish brown hills
blocking the daylight;
The water-filled paddy fields
the swaying of the coconut tree leaves
the raindrops on mustard flowers;
some black and white coloured
cows tied under a tree
and a herd of mooing cows heading home;
The smiles of children playing in
rain puddles, various coloured
umbrellas scattered from
here to there, people rushing
to their homes, a small
temple sheltering all;
The cool breeze, the droplets of
water on every face,
the smell of damp brown-earth
made the time stand still.
I paused and resumed
my journey of life.
Copyright©2011Rizvana Parveen
poem by Rizvana Parveen
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Second Chances
Sometimes we get second chances
And sometimes we never make it past the first
It really makes you wonder why somethings happen when they do
It really makes me wonder why it wasn't me instead of you
And when you say
It doesn't matter well it does
And all it takes
Is a mistake to eat your words
Just one more time I think I'll drive on home tonight
Sometimes we never see the warning
And the voice in your head tells you not to go
It really makes me wonder why somethings happen when they do
It really makes me wonder why it wasn't me instead of you
And when you say
It doesn't matter well it does
And all it takes
Is a mistake to eat your words
Just one more time I think I'll drive on home tonight
And when you look its gone its too late to turn around
And it's another day facing yourself and the things that you've done
And when you say
It doesn't matter well it does
And all it takes
Is a mistake to eat your words
Just one more time I think I'll drive on home tonight
song performed by by Michelle Branch from Spirit Room
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Black And White
I took my baby
On a saturday bang
Boy is that girl with you
Yes we're one and the same
Now I believe in miracles
And a miracle
Has happened tonight
But, if
You're thinkin'
About my baby
It don't matter if you're Black or white
They print my message
In the saturday sun
I had to tell them
I ain't second to none
And I told about equality
An it's true
Either you're wrong
Or you're right
But, if
You're thinkin'
About my baby
It don't matter if you're
Black or white
I am tired of this devil
I am tired of this stuff
I am tired of this business
Sew when the
Going gets rough
I ain't scared of
Your brother
I ain't scared of no sheets
I ain't scared of nobody
Girl when the
Goin' gets mean
(L.T.B)
Protection
For gangs, clubs,
And nations
Causing grief in
Human relations
It's a turf war
On a global scale
I'd rather hear both sides
Of the tale
See, it's not about races
Just places
Faces
Where your blood
Comes from
Is where your space is
I've seen the bright
Get duller
I'm not going to spend
My life being a color
Don't tell me you agree
With me
When I saw you
Kicking dirt in my eye
But, if
You're thinkin'
About my baby
It don't matter if you're
Black or white
I said if
You're thinkin' of
Being my baby
It don't matter if you're
Black or white
I said if
You're thinkin' of
Being my brother
It don't matter if you're
Black or white
Ooh, ooh
Yea, yea, yea now
Ooh, ooh
Yea, yea, yea now
It's black, it's white
It's tough for you to get by
It's black , it's white, whoo
It's black, it's white
It's tough for you to get by
It's black , it's white, whoo
song performed by by Michael Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Wish Life Were Like It
when i was a child
mama would give me a blank sheet
of paper where i can draw lines and circles
where my imagination runs
unstopped like it were the wind
blowing anywhere
all colors swirl and figures of angels
and fairies and castles and horses are drawn &
after a while all these become too
crowded inside the four corners
of the large white sheet
and then tired of such figures and lines and
circles and colors crowding on that large white sheet
i decided to take it away and
crumple it and throw it on the waste basket
and i would tell mama that i am taking
another blank sheet for my use
and she says 'It's alright'
I wish my life were like it. Something that i can
change the moment i do not like it.
Something to crumple and throw when
necessity dictates it.
And then i take another for good start.
I wish it were like that. But simply said,
it isn't.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Work Weary Man
This shovelling concrete is a bore
I feel tired can't take much more
All this working like a slave
Will ge me an early grave.
My time has come to quit
I have had enough of it
I and hard work don't agree
Shovelling concrete is too hard for me.
That pig headed foreman shouting
Day after day he's mouthing
The man doesn't know where to stop
He would drive you till you drop.
The manager has made it clear
He doesn't want Workers Union here
Says Unions commit the sin
Of spoiling working men.
I will give notice today
And on friday draw my weeks back pay
Give my bones a rest from toil
And take it easy for awhile.
poem by Francis Duggan
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A Pink Dream
Rio sunrise sucking on a straw
I rub my head and stagger out the door
And head into the bright new beautiful day
And the way she pulls me in
Sucks my breath away i asked her for some time
And she just made me it
I asked her maybe why?
And she just gave me it never smile
Never stare
She doesn't seem to care at all
Never cry
Never scream
She doesn't really seem to need me at all
Fourteen weeks i stay away from home
A hundred days a part of me unknown
Apart in pink and perfect moments play
And as a wonder of the world
She sucks my breath away
I asked her for some time
And she just made me it
I asked her maybe why?
And she just gave me it
So i asked her could be heaven?
And she just prayed me it...
She didn't want to know my name
She didn't want to know how long we had together
Spending time as if tomorrow never comes
I didn't want to know the end
I didn't want to go but slowly found me home again
And slow again tomorrow comes
But it was all so far away
And so long ago
I hardly ever think about her anymore
Except sometimes when the summer twilight breeze
Carries me the scent of faraway rain
I remember...
And she still sucks my breath away
song performed by by Cure
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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White Hat White Coat
To the late doug whalan.... from your daughter.....
White hat white coat and greying in hair
he would dance around the dance floor with plenty of flair
White hat white coat black pants to boot
the men would all say 'silly old coot'
Whitehat white coat and a big friendly smile
when he went to a dance he'd dress in style
White hat white coat and a beat in his feet
it's of to the dance and people to meet
White hat white coat and a scotch on the rocks he'd love to dance
and the men would all mock
White hat white coat asleep at the wheel
he's danced all night 'boy i know how he feels'
White hat white coat have been put to the test
it's time to go home for a well earned rest
White hat white coat clean shirt and socks too
he's all geard up and ready for round two
White hat white coat so tired and run down
close your eyes and dream of your nights on the town
White hat white coat you've seen better days
your torn around the edges and your starting to fray
White hat white coat the time's come for us to part
but always remember ' i love you with all my heart '
poem by Debbie Gregory
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How My Cousin Wished To Have A White Friend, The American
my cousin had once a wish, to befriend an american
the white great man who once fought with his grandfather
during the last 2nd world war
in Bataan
they were together in their defeat
on that Long Black Death March
and they miraculously survived
and during their veterans' memory programs
they always have time together
little drinks, nostalgic conversations and then a hug a farewell
matching tears and trembling lips
of old useless men
but that was long time ago
times i guess have changed due to climactic errors
global warming
and well
crude, rude, city life that changed gentleness to
aloofness,
and when my cousin worked as a nurse in chicago
lonely as he was, and so alienated and yes
discriminated
he changed his views of the white man
no longer that christ-the-saviour thing really
but that 'get lost' monster that throws him glasses on his head
and if it were not for his escaping instincts he would have been dead
on arrival in the Philippines,
well, i cannot blame him, indeed the times have changed,
whites hate browns and looks down on them,
the browns too, retaliate and sometimes wish to poison the white man
and kill him on his bed with an overdose of his antidepressant drugs
or simply leave the white man with his own business as he falls
to the floor from his bed, with no one to help him, and i remember what my cousin said,
he is the brown man telling the white man
' white man, summon all your green money to help you stand,
i am leaving! '
he left, really, he left the old man asking for his help,
less the curse and the insult
actualy, i like how that story ended.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Give Yourself A Chance
Since thousands of years
Colors and religions are fighting against each other
But - where ever you are
Who ever you are
Give yourself a chance
For peace on earth
I'm back with the track
I'm white not black
But the color doesn't matter
So now step back
Brown or black or white no matter what
You now what time it is
It's time to say enough
Cause every nation in a situation
You know its time for a combination
See what they spray up on the wall
Stop the war
That's not your fault
Give yourself a chance
Right now
Give yourself a chance
For peace on earth
Give yourself a chance
Right now
Give yourself a chance
For peace on earth
You better listen
To what i got to say
I got the mic in my hand and i am on my way
It's not terminator, not superman
Not a bad story of the ku-klux-klan
It's like a picture
And it starts to shine
It's bright in colors, so open your mind
Give yourself a chance
Take it in your hand
Give yourself a chance
Got to understand
There's a nightmare were dreaming of
Cold violence and war
What we are living for
Is love we adore
song performed by by DJ Bobo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A accountant at a transport company
Figures on paper glare at me
with the sun hanging bright in a blue sky,
while busses and lories drive past the whole time.
Outside vehicles are parked in rows and shine
and drivers walk about talking
where we are camped in, behind rusting wire and zinc.
When the managing director looks in he wants
me to make changes, to do an act of fraud.
Figures on paper glare at me
with a bonus waving,
and my name, my integrity is at stake
and drivers walk about talking
and I wonder how to get out of this trap
when I catch the eye of the managing director’s charming daughter
while busses and lories drive past the whole time.
I again check calculations, re-determine and add
and I keep things correct
and my name, my integrity is at stake.
The managing director wants the final figures,
he makes threats and his temper is just under control.
Figures on paper glare at me
while I complete the financial statements
and thousands of things go through my mind
and I keep things correct
and the day rushes past
the managing director’s daughter winks at me, walks down the passage
while busses and lories drive past the whole time,
sirens are ringing in the distance and the wall-clock ticks off the last minutes
and I know that I can loose my job
and thousands of things go through my mind
when the girl walks in with eyes cutting into my soul,
say that her dad is waiting and I feel like caught in web.
Figures on paper glare at me
while busses and lories drive past the whole time
and I hear excited voices in the managing director’s office.
Outside vehicles are parked in rows and shine
and I know that I can loose my job,
where we are camped in, behind rusting wire and zinc.
poem by Gert Strydom
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White Room
I can see her at her windows watching
Locked away inside her skin
I can see her but I cant get to her
She wont come out, and she wont let me into
The white room (shes living in)
Lying alone til she comes undone
In the white room
She burns for the real thing
But it wont come
In her head is the same obsession
And all the bottles and pills wont heal her heart
She heard his last confession
Every word just tears her apart
In the white room (locked away)
Doing time til her time is done
In the white room theres so much to say
But the words wont come
Come back to the land of the living
When you gonna break that chain
Theres much too much that youre leaving
And youre never gonna stop the rain
In the white room
Waiting for the call that never comes
In the white room, she waits
Look at something long enough youll find
That the splinters and the cracks begin to show
Ill be the first in line when the walls start falling
And she lets go of
The white room (its late)
Living alone only makes you numb
In the white room
She burns for the real thing but it wont come
Come back to the land of the living
When you gonna break that chain
Theres much too much that youre leaving
And youre never gonna stop the rain
In the white room (shes living in)
Doing time til her time is done
In the white room she burns
In the white room (its late)
Lying alone till she comes undone
In the white room she waits
In the white room...
song performed by by Rick Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Original Sin
(a farriss & m hutchence)
You might know of the original sin
And you might know how to play with fire
But did you know of the murder committed
In the name of love-yeah
You thought what a pity
Dream on white boy
Dream on black girl
And wake up to a brand new day
To find your dreams have washed away
There was a time when I did not care
And there was a time when the facts did stare
There is a dream and its held by many
Well Im sure you had to see
Its open arms
Dream on white boy
Dream on black girl
And wake up to a brand new day
Dream on black boy
Dream on white girl
Then wake up to a brand new day
song performed by by INXS
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Akon Angel
Akon angel
Is the only black angel that lives in heaven
The rest of the angels are white
And the white angels finally got used to akon angel
Of course the white angels were upset when they heard that a black angel
Was going to live with them
At first they felt outraged
But God had a talk with all the white angels
And told them that their behavior was unacceptable
Because heaven is for everybody and not only for whites
Also God explain to them that he made the people different colors
Because he wanted a spice in life
Akon Angel doesn't have anything against the white angels
But the white angels will ignore Akon angel and not say anything to him
Because they don't want to upset him
So they try topretend that the Akon angel doesn't exist
And that helps them to deal with it
AkonAngel looks after the garden in heaven because he loves to work in The garden and doesn't mind to get dirty
But the white angels don't like the garden at all
And they work inthe kitchen preparing their meals for the day
God is in charge of the laundry and the cleaning of heaven
Also God loves to clean and do the laundry
poem by Aldo Kraas
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Avalanche-the White Death
The land is white
The name of the land brings you
to the land of nothing
The name is white
The white is dead
Sun shines pale, the land shades full of pain
Avalea doesn't bloom and fall in this drain
I'm going back alive again
But no one's crying for the dead
The land is still white
Ice and snow are still the same as yesterday
But the wind is stronger in the sorrow
The land is white
The white is dead
They weep wherever they blow
Forever love, cursed land
Forever goodbye, my lovely land
No more tears falling in this land
Even the sand doesn't know
why he doesn't round to anywhere
The land has frozen like stone
The air is blowed dead
The land is white
The name is white
The land called white is dead
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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Black And White
Life was better in black and white
Long before they invented color tv
Most people knew right from wrong
A sense of togatherness that made a family strong
People cared about each other
Giving a helping hand
Now it's what can you give me
The solgan of our land
Oh give me back the smell of spray starch
Cooling down in front of the fan
Work was a whole lot harder
But the company treated you like a man
Not some number
Friends got togather to play a little poker
Now we don't have time for one another
We only have time for number one
Oh take me back to those black and white days
Where life and the sun
Was a whole lot brighter
poem by David Kush
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