Most of your precious jewels were stolen
Most of your precious jewels were stolen,
your car’s window smashed
by a black man with a beanie hat,
who grabbed your handbag
from the seat next to you
were you were parked between two cars
at a traffic light.
The thief ran into the minibus taxi rank
and you were too afraid to follow
into that maze
of black travellers.
Even you cellular phone was taken,
along with your purse, identity document
and driver’s license.
You called me from the nearby
plumber’s shop
and I drove quicker from Johannesburg
to the centre city of Pretoria
than the Police could
from a few blocks away.
Every precious jewel you had,
the emerald engagement ring,
the ten-centimetre broad gold armband,
your string of pearls, two rings
with three carat diamonds,
the charm bracelet with the big five
that I collected golden pendant
by golden pendant for you,
even my Rolex watch was stolen
and some golden Kruger Rands,
earrings, rings and bracelets
that I cannot recall anymore.
You were crying and shaken
and I tried to comfort you
and entered the minibus taxi rank
trying to find discarded documents
or something,
but without avail.
When the police came
they were too afraid
to search the taxi rank
and said that its dangerous
and when I told them
that I had searched it already
they were astonished
and they told you to report the crime
at the nearest police station
if you wanted to make a case
and drove away with their yellow van.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Most of your precious jewels were stolen [1]
Most of your precious jewels were stolen,
your car’s window smashed
by a black man with a beanie hat,
who grabbed your handbag
from the seat next to you
were you were parked between two cars
at a traffic light.
The thief ran into the minibus taxi rank
and you were too afraid to follow
into that maze
of black travellers.
Even you cellular phone was taken,
along with your purse, identity document
and driver’s license.
You called me from the nearby
plumber’s shop
and I drove quicker from Johannesburg
to the centre city of Pretoria
than the Police could
from a few blocks away.
Every precious jewel you had,
the emerald engagement ring,
the ten-centimetre broad gold armband,
your string of pearls, two rings
with three carat diamonds,
the charm bracelet with the big five
that I collected golden pendant
by golden pendant for you,
even my Rolex watch was stolen
and some golden Kruger Rands,
earrings, rings and bracelets
that I cannot recall anymore.
You were crying and shaken
and I tried to comfort you
and entered the minibus taxi rank
trying to find discarded documents
or something,
but without avail.
When the police came
they were too afraid
to search the taxi rank
and said that its dangerous
and when I told them
that I had searched it already
they were astonished
and they told you to report the crime
at the nearest police station
if you wanted to make a case
and drove away with their yellow van.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Music thumped out of the minibus taxi rank
Music thumped out of the minibus taxi rank
with a few indigenous females dancing
bare chest with whopping breasts
shaking along with the beat
with sweat glistening on their
half-naked bodies
and some of taxi drivers grinned
at the maids of their harem
displaying their wares
to the stares of passing
European men
and Japanese foreigners
with flashing cameras
and they clapped their hands to the beat.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Waiting for the bus.....(for Karen)
The market place was closin'
my feet were nearly frozen
I tried to see the bus come through the snow.
But even though I strained
no bus ever came
and I wished I were in bed, that night,
back home
Then behold, we saw a Taxi
Mother said 'oh should we,
baby's cold, ain't that what money's for? '
So she held up a free hand
and hailed that taxi man.
I'd never been in a taxi cab before.
It was big and bright and black,
and we sat up at the back,
the man who drove it was so very nice.
I snuggled up to mum
She said ‘you warmer hon? '
And I fell fast asleep upon her lap.
It was the best ride I'd ever had
in that black taxi cab.
I thought my mum
the best that there could be!
When I was three
and she hailed a cab for me.
poem by Ruth Walters
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Church Street, Pretoria
Right down the street the traffic lights are green
and a couple of homeless men stand around a fire
in a half drum and ambulances and police cars scream
while they past rows and rows of flats for hire
and a couple of kids stand smoking at the stream
and this is reality, the heart of the city.
On the sidewalk pedestrians walk in crowds of men,
women and some children, some booted up to the knee
others with mini skirts short enough to condemn them
and my city stays lovely to me.
People queue for fried chicken, fish
and chips at shops and cafés and the smells fill my nose
and tomatoes and onions, lamb and steak are fried with a hiss
and in the traffic an angry speed-cop tries to retain his pose
when a minibus taxi almost runs him over, gives him a fright
at a flickering traffic light
and cars stream by into the coming night.
poem by Gert Strydom
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A police road block
We went to the boy’s rugby match
it was at a school in Centurion
just south of Pretoria
and he was playing really well
got provincial colours
and went to the Craven week.
We parked up on a knoll
and you wanted to stroll down it,
to where the rugby field was
and I insisted that we follow
the road round,
but you cursed me
right there between the other parents
and was determined to have your way.
You didn’t want to hear anything
and your first step
going down that hillock
was the last that you took there,
since you stumbled and broke your leg
while I grabbed you to steady you.
I carried you down that little hill
and you were in great pain
and had your arms
around my neck
and at that moment
I knew that you loved me.
I went to fetch the car
and brought it round the knoll,
put you on the back seat
of your old green Honda ballade
with a lot of care and trouble
to get you in
without hurting you
and took you straight
to Unitas hospital
that was near.
I phoned the medical aid five times
while you were being admitted
to get a confirmation from them
to stop the hospital
from claiming a deposit
and when you were settled
I went home
to fetch some clothing
and toiletries.
I drove back with my own white Polo
and just at the hospital
was stopped by the South African Police
at a roadblock.
They made me get out of the car,
patted me down like a criminal,
wanted to see my drivers license,
was determined to search the car
and went through your
underclothes and things
and asked me what I am doing
with a suitcase of woman’s clothes
in the boot?
They were very rude
and I explained that I was taking it
to you in hospital
and was determined
to see their authority
to search my car.
They had the right order there
signed by a judge
for a roadblock and a search
of any car
on that stretch of road
but the police officer to whom
it gave authority
wasn’t there
and I demanded to see him
and they wrote my name
and identity number in a book
while I told them
that they were acting illegally
before they let me go.
You were glad to see me
and browsed through the magazines
that I brought
and I visited as long as I could
and asked the sister in the office
to take special care of you,
but when I left
the police and their roadblock
was no longer there.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Without a car in Pretoria
There are few things that bother as much
as to look for you car
and almost to count the other car’s,
when you come round a corner
and to be without a car in Pretoria
and to know the fear
that it is stolen.
There are fewer things that bother as much
as when two of your cars get stolen
and something is wrong with the insurance of both
and to be without any car in Pretoria
and to tell everyone that you call
of your predicament
and no Police ever being able to find any car
and every similar car that drives by
looks to you like the stolen one
and the robbers are now much better off than you.
There are few things that bother as much
as to walk
and stand with a hand stretched out
and the worst is to tell other people
and to be without a car in Pretoria
and to read comprehension in their eyes.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Pretoria
I look at a city,
a city once modern, new
and progressive, the cultural centre
of a nation
but now poverty
and mismanagement
is taking its toll.
Where ten years back
people could live in its apartments
now is a ghetto,
with prostitutes on the street,
primitive men urinating against buildings
and teenagers walking with ghetto-blasters
playing music at full volume.
Where at traffic lights
windows are smashed with bricks
and valuables are stolen,
parked cars are taken,
where cars are hijacked
with the barrel of a gun
and cars are even stripped
at the police grounds.
A capital city in a country
that has thrown its borders
wide open to the rest of Africa
and every criminal
has headed there
and gangsters live in paradise
but in the suburbs
people still are making a living
in fortresses guarded by dogs
and security devices,
with panic buttons
for the nearest rent a cop
and people still pray
and go to work and play
as if crime is the norm
and the inadequacy
of the new government
doesn’t really matter.
poem by Gert Strydom
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No, in Lethal Weapon I was a taxi cab driver that Mel jumps in front of the taxi and pulls me out of the car and steals the taxi. Then I did some other indie driving for some of the car sequences.
quote by David R. Ellis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Realized
He sat on the step asking for change
'I haven't got any spare'
pretend I don't care
wonder how he got there
ask him? Do I dare?
He tells me hes slow
at an all time low
kicked out of hostels
three times in a row
I tell him I've gotta go
my taxis waiting...
In the back seat
I speak to the girl I'm dating
'whats with the tramp? '
I tell her 'I'm loving, not hating'.
My flirting's not working
the taxi driver laughs
sees a couple, taking separate paths
life's like algebra, not making sense
always hated maths, always clothed
I asked if she takes naked baths
we were over before it started
called the taxi driver Moses
as he drove us to the red sea
we parted, we red it
told him I gave her a try
put my finger up to her
as I waved her goodbye
I realized...
I'm like the Manchester weather
I'm cold...
he continued the journey and drove
he drove me to Wimslow road
curry mile...
I staggered out in my usual drunken style
looked at Kansas then gave the sky a smile
never realized I was so drunk
she must have hated me
I must have stunk,
why did I say that?
this chickens gonna make me fat
I'm so dizzy, 'Yo! '
'Wo! You gave me a fright'
'got any change? '
'I might'
I gave him a pound
I realized he was the tramp from before
he walked into the night.
poem by Daniel McCann
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Emerald City Sequence
(quincy jones/charlie smalls)
Emerald city green:
I want to be seen green
Wouldnt be caught dead, red
cause if you are seen green
It means you got mean bread
Youve got to be seen green
To show that youre stuffs layed
If youre not seen green
You better be wearing jade
Oh, youve got to be seen green
Dont tell them your cupboards bare
That you gave up one weeks feed
To pay for your colored hair
Oh, oh, oh
An announcement from the great powerful oz:
I thought it over and green is dead
till I change my mind, the color is red
Emerald city red:
I wouldnt be seen green
Ooo! oo! oo! ah! ah!
I wouldnt be caught dead
And if Im caught at all
Then catch me in dead, red
Ooo!
Youve got to be dead red
Youve got to be real hot
So throw away those green gems
And wear rubies on your yacht
Youve got to be dead, red
Youve got to have flash and flair
And if youre not seen red
Then you shouldnt be seen nowhere
Ah!
How quickly fashion goes down the drain.
Last week when you all was wearin pink
Already for me red was old.
The ultimate brick is gold.
Thats the new color, children
Emerald city gold:
Golden gold
Golden gold
Golden gold
Golden gold
You got to be seen gold
Watch out for the new kind
You got to have old gold
Like some from a gold mine
You got to be wearin gold
The twenty four carat kind
And once youve shined it up
It should ought to make you blind, ah!
You got to be seen in gold
To show that youre super slick
It helps to pay tips and tolls
Its the ultimate yellow brick
Its the ultimate
Gold
Golden gold
Golden gold
Golden gold
Golden gold
Golden gold
Golden gold
Golden gold
Gold, gold, gold, gold
Gold!
song performed by by Diana Ross
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Taxis
The horse is used as a taxi in a certain land,
The donkey is used as a taxi in a certain land,
The camel is used as a taxi in a certain land,
The cow is used as a taxi in a certain land,
The elephant is used as a taxi in a certain land,
And of all the forms of taxis in this world!
But the animals had been very useful to mankind.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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On A Rainy Day
she flags a taxi
closes her black umbrella
wet in the rain she
enters the
yellow taxi and bangs the
door against him
leaving him for good
on a rainy day
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The toilets at a local police station have been stolen. Police say they have nothing to go on.
quote by Ronnie Barker
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Black Crow
Theres a crow flying
Black and ragged
Tree to tree
Hes black as the highway thats leading me
Now hes diving down
To pick up on something shiny
I feel like that black crow
Flying
In a blue sky
I took a ferry to the highway
Then I drove to a pontoon plane
I took a plane to a taxi
And a taxi to a train
Ive been traveling so long
Howm I ever going to know my home
When I see it again
Im like a black crow flying
In a blue, blue sky
In search of love and music
My whole life has been
Illumination
Corruption
And diving, diving, diving, diving.
Diving down to pick up on every shiny thing
Just like that black crow flying
In a blue sky
I looked at the morning
After being up all night
I looked at my haggard face in the bathroom light
I looked out the window
And I saw that ragged soul take flight
I saw a back crow flying
In a blue sky
Oh Im like a black crow flying
In a blue sky
song performed by by Joni Mitchell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Untold Story
You once told me your race
(Not if I really cared)
You once showed me the true color of your face
(Not if that mattered)
You are whom you want to be
You are the sheep, you are the bee.
You once told me who you were
Once you discovered what the dean did
You called the police supervisor
And filed a report, there you hid
Your true genealogy
You wanted to be conveniently
Different than the jerk
Because there was no perk
For you to win
What an egregious sin
What a sad hypocrite
You are the pit
The pit bull that lies
And the other one, the cat
That steals the pies
You are no different than the bat
Who behaved like a wise crow
At day time and at night time
Chased the house mouse like a deadly owl
I never knew you’d stoop so low
By perjuring yourself; you duly committed a crime
By lying; you are just like the scarecrow
The kleptomaniac, which filed the death certificate
To claim the benefits that no longer fit.
You once told me your race
(Not if I really cared)
I just wanted the black ace
(Because that truly mattered)
The white pearl, the black gold
The white gold and my story told.
poem by Hebert Logerie
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Police intimidation
Today while in Springs
walking on the sidewalk
on my way to home
there was a police roadblock
put up right over the main road
just at Werda School
where you leave the shopping area
where eight armed policemen were standing
and when I got a call
from a wrong number
the one in the middle of the road
rushes to me; saying that I have taken a photograph of him
and the whole lot of them close around me,
I am even grabbed
with a hand into the back of my pants
that holds onto my belt,
I am searched
with hands being put
into my pockets
and my two cellular phones are taken
whereupon I say to them
that I have broken no law
and I am taking record of police intimidation
and a black police captain
(if military ranks are the same)
grab onto my arms holding them
and say that he is going to lock me up
and he stands so near to my face
that I am able to smell his sour breathe.
Whereupon I say to him
that I have broken no law,
that he has no grounds for arrest
and that touching me
is as good as assault
and then a white policeman
with two stars (a military lieutenant’s rank) walks nearer
and the captain let go of my arms,
some of the group gathered around me stands back
but the one at my back
is still holding on to me
with his hand on my belt
into the back of my pants
while another one
is busy going into the data
of my cellular phones
and the white one threaten
to assault me,
to hit me into a hospital
and I say to him
that surely in his eyes
it is illegal to tape
this conversation that they must let me go
as I have not broken any law.
Then he says if I again
spit him in the face while I talk
he will hit my teeth out of my mouth
and I say that the one holding me
is already assault
and that I will let them lock him up
in his own jail, if he touches me
and he says that he will not
touch me even with gloves
and that man stands so near to me
trying to intimidate, that I can smell him
and it smells as if for a whole week
he did not bath
as he is stinking of rotting sweat.
Then they want to know my name
and address from me
which I refuse
to give to them.
Then the white lieutenant says
that it is illegal
not to give my particulars
and I to him
that they do not have the right to it
as I have broken no law
as I am wondering
if the lot of them
want to come and assault me
in the middle of the night or something?
Then he says: “you that have swallowed
a whole law book, you know
that you have to give
your name and address.”
Then I say again
that I have broken no law
were just passing
and I am tacking record of police intimidation.
Then the white lieutenant says
that I do not even know what my name is
also in what street I am walking
and exactly in what town,
at what place
I am in the world.
The black policemen
stand laughing
as if it’s the joke
of all jokes
and I say that I want my cellular phones back,
that they cannot come
and steal them from me
and he threatens again to hit me.
When they can get no photograph of them
on my cellular phones
they give my cellular phones back
and the white man that they call adjutant threatens
again to assault me
and says away with you
that I must be on my way
and says record this now
and I will hit you like thunder!
Then I say that this type of thing
only happens in a police state
and that they are Gestapo
busy with police intimidation
and that I am going to publish this incident
and they laugh at me.
l’Envoi
Now I wonder as a citizen,
who pays my taxes
when and where I have a job,
what rights does the law representatives claim
to themselves
and how good, are they at their jobs?
The two cars that had being stolen from me
have after three years
not been found back
and this lot is fast
to stand and threaten with assault
and I scoff at them and know my rights,
but three thousand farmers have been killed
and where are their killers?
Surely walking around freely?
Surely one can only expect an incident like this
in the new South Africa
where things are only going
from bad to worse.
[This incident happened on Saturday 11 December 2010 at 09h15.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Cat Carcass
Last Night two storm cats above roof
my two eyeballs were difficult to close
now I 'm very sleepy
Before that night a child cat was hit taxi
in the grandpa house curve
the taxi driver took the cat carcass
it was buried in the corner curve
while he pray to kept away from the bad fate
like the kitten
but I did not know
whether the prayer of the taxi driver had permited
I myself confuse
now the cat child remained one
is sleeping his mother brazz
poem by Prasetya Utama
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Uncle Lenny
There is an Italian who lives in New York City,
he is a sweetheart, he thinks I’m pretty.
He came down to see me and took me out to eat,
we talked of a stalker who lives on his street.
Yes, he is handsome for his age,
stalker lady goes through his mail reading one page.
Now Uncle Lenny has seen it all,
in NYC taxi cab he drove tourists with alot of gall.
Yes, Uncle Lenny drove a NYC taxi cab,
A safe driver award plaque he does have.
Now we went to Tampa and I heard some ghosts,
He said he didn’t hear any for his ears are toast.
He’s sweetheart who thinks of me,
He left surprises in my luggage for me to keep.
Now Uncle Lenny still can drive,
He is quick and has a sharp keen eye.
Thanks Uncle Lenny for the happy memories,
it was fun and very interesting!
(By Suzae Chevalier on August 10, 2011)
poem by Christina Sunrise
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Taxi In The Rain
Where have I been going
On this lost and rainy night
I, who have no home to go to
Waiting for a taxi in the rain
The grey earth sleeps
And lets me take my way
Alone amidst the crowd
Waiting for a taxi in the rain
I’ve come so far in search
Of what I have not found
Perhaps it is down this street
Waiting for a taxi in the rain
Grey and frozen faces
Pass me by unhurriedly
Turning their backs to the dreamer
Waiting for a taxi in the rain
poem by Christine Natale
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Uncle Lenny
There is an Italian who lives in New York City,
he is a sweetheart, he thinks I'm pretty.
He came down to see me and took me out to eat,
we talked of a stalker who lives on his street.
Yes, he is handsome for his age,
stalker lady goes through his mail reading one page.
Now Uncle Lenny has seen it all,
in NYC taxi cab he drove tourists with alot of gall.
Yes, Uncle Lenny drove a NYC taxi cab,
A safe driver award plaque he does have.
Now we went to Tampa and I heard some ghosts,
He said he didn't hear any for his ears are toast.
He's sweetheart who thinks of me,
He left surprises in my luggage for me to keep.
Now Uncle Lenny still can drive,
He is quick and has a sharp keen eye.
Thanks Uncle Lenny for the happy memories,
it was fun and very interesting!
(By Suzae Chevalier on August 10,2011)
poem by Suzae Chevalier
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