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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
I am proud to be white
My two dogs patrol the yard
from side to side
and walk along the wall
with the street
to and fro
as if they at any moment expect
a threat
or armed invasion
and I have moved the mailbox
for the poor postman
to do his duty in safety
and it’s quite clear
that lawful authority
is decaying
and the country is more insane than mad.
Black policemen walk eight
next to each other in a shopping centre
and even when I stand pressed
against a shop’s window
to avoid them
they still bump into me
and when I let them know
that the walkway doesn’t belong to them
with a submachine gun
they turn to me
because I am white
and this intimidation I laugh off
even when I have to
give a statement
for my stolen car
to the gate guard
on the outside of the police station.
So near to a black police state
I have not yet seen
and still for this nonsense I am not afraid
and know my rights and the law
and these people will never know
how much I love my country.
I am proud to be white
and my language, culture, norms, values
and humanity differ so much
that I never
want to be another colour.
Even when I am now
a third rate citizen in my country
which claimed
military service from me
where there are discriminated
against my human rights
and where from time to time
I am without an income and a job
since I serve an almighty Lord
who sets governments up and let them fall
and who gets solutions out of impossibility.
[Reference: Lawful authority decaying: “Ethnic hatred is the result of the terror that arises when legitimate authority disintegrates.” Michael Ignatieff: Blood and Belonging Croatia and Serbia.]
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
In the inner square
In the inner square
just outside the police station
a little group stands around a drum
in which coals are burning
and flames are shooting up
in the dark night.
Between them a man is standing,
holding out his hands
to get them warm
and above them the stars are bright
like lights in the night
but the moon
has a strange colour that particular night.
A woman constable walking past
stops and asks the man:
“Are you not one of those wild men
who are following the prisoner? ”
It’s as if the eyes
of every policeman around the fire
like search lights fall on him
and he shakes his head decidedly
and draws the cap lower over his head
to get hot and avoid their stares.
“I really do not know him. Do not even know
the reason why you have captured him. Just came
to get some heat from the fire
and what injustice lies in this? ”
The women constable frowns
and walks away with swaying hips
and he remark about the way
that she walks,
which makes the other men around the fire laugh
and through the open door
of the police station
he notices how somebody inside
hits the prisoner through the face
and it’s almost
as if he feels it in his own face.
“Friend, you are not from here
and looks just as ruff as him, ”
one of the constables says jokingly
and his tooth glitters white
for his own joke.
This time the man is much more definite
and worry is eating at him:
“No. Constables, if I would know him
by this time you would know me too?
You probably know
his accomplices? ”
A constable that was at the arrest
comes and stand at the fire
and the flames flares up more brightly
causing him to see the man
between them clearly.
“You talk in the same dialect as the prisoner?
Were you not at the arrest? Surely you were there? ”
Every policeman and even
some of those in the police station
is now staring at him.
“Truly, no. He is totally strange to me!
You cannot lay the guilt
of that man’s deeds onto just anybody.
Just because we maybe comes from the same place.
I can say under oath that I do not know him.”
His gaze catches that of the prisoner
and he sees love
and no condemnation
and on that hour, minute and second
a cock crows
and pain rips through him
that he has just betrayed the Son of God
and the man walks away from the fire
into the night, just blindly
and he cries
while rain is falling around him
and he wonders what it takes
to stand for the truth
while lightning bolts hits blue-white around him.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
W. M. A.
He won the lottery when he was born
Took his mothers white breast to his tongue
Trained like dogs, color and smell
Walks by me to get to him police man (2x)
He won the lottery by being born
Big hand slapped a white male merican
Do no wrong, so clean cut...
Dirty his hands, it comes right off
Police man (2x)
Police stopped my brother again (3x)
Police man (2x)
Jesus greets me...looks just like me...
Do no wrong, so clean cut
Dirty his hands, it comes right off
Police man (3x)
Police stopped my brother again (3x)
Police man (2x)
Police stopped my brother again (3x)
Police man (3x)
All my pieces set me free...human devices set me free...
All my pieces set me free... (2x) } (2x)
Human devices set me free... (2x) }
song performed by by Pearl Jam
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
They were only doing their duty (Two ballades with a prologue)
I. Prologue: Four days of terror
The arrest was just before five o’clock
on a Thursday afternoon,
with one white and one black constable
waiting at his work
and when he returned from business
cuffing him and searching his body
and taking him into custody.
The employer notified his relatives,
seeing the incident
as a blot on the company’s name
and then his job was hanging in balance
and the charges was
based on a false affidavit
made by stepson
on persuasion of the mother in law
and where his car had been stolen,
criminals had broken into his rented house
and robbed him of the TV, DVD-player,
hifi and everything valuable
no arrest was ever made
and the police was only doing their job
and will tell you
that another unit
is responsible for robberies
and hijackings
passing the buck endlessly.
Three days elapsed before a bail hearing
as the black state attorney
was that Friday busy
with another case
in another town
while he was innocently locked up.
It is no joke being innocent and locked up
in a police cell with eighteen other people
with one toilet,
in the middle of the room,
no shower,
no bathing facilities, dirt everywhere
and lice jumping into your hair,
not being able to close your eyes
and knowing if you will be safe
from a attack from any of them
being prohibited to receive any cigarettes
or food from the outside,
being served with three dry pieces of bread
and coffee without sugar for dinner,
an iron bowl as big as you hand
with brown porridge, without a spoon
and any sugar or salt in it
without any eating utensils for breakfast
and having to eat it with your bare hands
like a barbarian
receiving a small bowl of porridge
with mince in it as lunch
and having to eat it
in the same way
and after four days of this treatment
having to appear before a magistrate
on a Monday morning
without clean clothes, a shave
or a comb through his hair
he had been stripped
from being treated humanely
by the South African Police
and have been treated
like just another third world citizen
being made equal to a culture
where living like a animal
is regarded as being humane
and then after his release
he had to get rid of all his hair
to get rid of the lice,
had to take a hot bath in antiseptic
and another shower after that
and had to throw his clothes
and shoes
into the rubbish bin.
II. Honour your father and mother
As a society Afrikaners had respect
for older people,
addressing older people
who were not even related as uncle and aunt.
I have been raised with the bible commandments
and one of them
is to honour your father and mother.
At South African schools
naughty children are not anymore disciplined
by caning, children’s rights, human rights
these days even take precedence
above the teachings of the Bible
and caning is viewed as assault.
I have been raised with the bible commandments
and one of them
is to honour your father and mother.
An eleven-year-old boy
one afternoon while his stepfather
was working at the mortuary,
played with a ten year old girl
from next door
and both stripped naked.
I have been raised with the bible commandments
and one of them
is to honour your father and mother.
That evening the girl told her mother
that the boy had sexually harassed her,
the government welfare was contacted,
the boy was taken to a kid’s clinic for evaluation
where that boy stated that his step father
had sexually assaulted him.
I have been raised with the bible commandments
and one of them
is to honour your father and mother.
III. Only doing their duty
During the trial of the mass murderers
in the Second World War,
some people on trial stated
that they were only doing their duty.
Children’s rights is the in thing,
and on insistence of the boy’s grandmother,
and a declaration of the boy,
the police
went to arrest the stepfather at his work,
which he almost lost
as that company does not want to be associated
with people who sexually harass children.
They were only doing their duty.
The police grabbed him with their hands
going into the back of his pants,
locked him up on a Thursday
at the cells at the police station.
They were only doing their duty.
The stepfather is dyslectic, works as a mortician,
and earns a very small salary,
could not afford a proper lawyer
and it was clear that the state lawyer
wasn’t really up to it.
He was only doing his duty.
The mother of the stepfather,
(an eighty three year old pensioner)
had to get an advocate (a supreme court barrister)
for the bail defence
as her son was seen as a danger to society
and being locked up
in a proper jail was being considered.
They were only doing their duty.
The court decided that the boy should for a time
live with his grandmother
and she went with the story
to the local newspaper
and claimed that she and the boy
have got to live behind burglar bars
in her flat and are too scared
to even go shopping
with the stepfather out on bail
but the grandmother and the boy,
was seen in a local pub,
where she was drinking
and the child was playing pool.
The newspaper and the grandmother
were only doing their duty.
At the court while the boy’s mother
was waiting in the passage way
(as the court case was being held in camera)
a police detective asked her
why she was still living with the stepfather?
The police detective with a pistol on his belt,
was only doing his duty.
During the trial that proceeded for days upon days
under cross examination
from the defending attorney it came out
that the boy’s own father had molested him,
that the stepfather was totally innocent
and the stepfather’s mother (a pensioner)
had to pay more than sixteen thousand rand
in legal fees
and the court felt sorry for the poor boy
and the legal system was only doing its duty.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Phones Are Ringin All Over Town
(marc beeson/kin vassey/david mackechnie)
With lipstick on his collar and a trace of cheap perfume
He undresses in the darkness and eases into bed
With her face turned to the other wall she pretends to be asleep
But it doesnt really matter cause theres nothing to be said
He calls from work to tell her hes sorry about last night
If he uses all the right words shell forgive him once again
But the phone just keeps on ringin and knows somethings wrong
He feels his heart start pounding, and his head begins to spin
Chorus:
Phones are ringin all over town
North and south and east and west on main street up and down
Hes got friends of his callin friends of hers
But shes nowhere to be found
Phones are ringin all over town
He calls the hospital, her sisters house and the place that does her hair
God, if somethin ever happened hed surely lose his mind
And hes thinkin its just like shes disappeared into thin air
As american flight #204 departs right on time
Repeat chorus
Well he knows shed never leave him
Shes just got to be around
Phones are ringin
Phones are ringin
Phones are ringin all over town
song performed by by Martina Mcbride
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Public Safety
You have no 'constitutional' rights,
To police protection.
The police are there to uphold the 'law'.
Public safety...
That's all!
And 'if' it has been determined,
That 'law' has been broken...
Guess who is going to jail?
That is certain.
Those 'laws' will prevail!
People yelling, 'Protect me and mine! '
Will find themselves ignored,
Most of the time!
Police are trained to deal with you psychologically...
However,
Your individual needs...
Are not theirs to feed!
Your rights to protect yourself is best.
And that's why the streets are full of such unrest!
IF you have problems with this as it is...
Know what those laws are!
And why crime has risen...
Bringing folks to tears.
And your individual feelings,
Are not part of constitutional business!
You have no 'constitutional' rights,
To police protection.
The police are there to uphold the 'law'.
Public safety...
That's all!
And your taxes 'may' be used,
To fill a pothole!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Robbery, Assault & Battery
The streets were deserted though the police were alerted,
They considered the phone call a hoax.
Furtively glancing then jauntily prancing
The youth caught the guards unaware.
Slipping between them he ought to have seen then
The eyes and their owner so near.
With torch shining bright he strode on in the night
Till he came to the room with the safe.
"hello son, i hope you're having fun."
"you've got it wrong sir, i'm only the cleaner."
With that he fired, the other saying as he died,
"you've done me wrong," it's the same old song forever.
Robbery, assault and battery,
The felon and his felony.
Robbery, assault and battery,
The felon and his felony.
Picked up the diamonds and bundles of fivers
He pushed them well down in his sack.
But the alarm had been sounded, he was completely surrounded
But he had some more tricks up his sleeve.
"come outside with your hands held high."
"you'll not get me alive sir, i promise you that sir."
With that he fired, the other saying as he died
"you've done me wrong," it's the same old song forever.
Robbery, assault and battery,
The felon and his felony.
Robbery, assault and battery,
The felon and his felony.
"he's leaving via the roof, the bastard's got away.
God always fights on the side of the bad man."
"i've got clean away but i'll be back some day,
Just the combination will have changed.
Some day they'll catch me, to a chain they'll attach me,
Until that day i'll ride the old crime wave.
If they try to hold me for trial
I'll stay out of gaol by paying my bail
And after i'll go to the court of appeal saying
"you've done me wrong," it's the same old song forever."
Done me wrong - same old song - done me wrong.
song performed by by Genesis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Everything Is Broken
Broken lines, broken strings, broken threads, broken springs
Broken idols, broken heads, people sleeping in broken beds
Aint no use jivin, aint no use jokin
Everything is broken
Broken bottles, broken plates, broken switches, broken gates
Broken dishes, broken parts, streets are filled with broken hearts
Broken words never meant to be spoken
Everything is broken
Seems like every time you stop and turn around
Someone else has just hit the ground
Broken cutters, broken saws, broken buckles, broken laws
Broken bodies, broken bones, broken voices on broken phones
Take a deep breath, feel like youre chokin
Everything is broken
Every time you leave and go off some place
Things fall to pieces in my face
Broken hands on broken plows, broken treaties, broken vows
Broken pipes, broken tools, people bending broken rules
Hound dog howlin, bullfrog croakin
Everything is broken
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The secret war that is raging in South Africa
The secret war that is raging in South Africa
asks for white blood,
these black people first kill and torture
before they take your possessions.
Incident upon incident I can tell about
where white families have been killed,
just think about the Orffer family
who was killed in Stellenbosch
on Friday 31 July 1994
by black people:
First the trustworthy black maid Sannetjie,
who tried to ward off the attackers with her bare hands
like a Amakeia of days gone,
then the blonde small girl
then the dad and the deaf little boy
and last the mother
were chopped with a axe to death
and everywhere there was blood.
Nowadays the tendency is
to first bind up the head of the family,
the man, to assault him
and to torture him to death in front of his family
and then to rape the women,
even toddlers and babies
and if the women are lucky
they survive
when the criminals
leave with their possessions
and it seems as if the police
do not want to, or are not able to stop this thing
and then it is claimed
that these people kill and steal
because they are hungry, while people in government
sings songs to wipe out whites.
From April 1994 when Nelson Mandela became president
the wiping out of white families is our destiny,
the Afrikaner nation is in the melting pot
we who have an own culture, language and identity,
who cannot become part of the hurly-burly
are killed, not only robbed
but tortured and horribly killed
and our women and children are raped.
Even Eugene Terreblancé
had befallen this same lot
and if this is not a war
that is raging against us,
where we are systematically
bit by bit, family by family
wiped out, and the numbers
are already in the thousands, then what is it?
[References: Klaaglied: Stellenbosch, Vrydag,31 Julie 1994 (Song of lamentation: Stellenbosch, Friday,31 Julie 1994) by Lina Spies. Amakeia by A. G. Visser, Amakeia, Amakeia then and now by Gert Strydom.]
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Broken Sky
Walking down
Death row
Looking up
Into the sky
Wondering
When I can go
From this place
Called home
Something is wrong
The sky
Is broken into two
One side is black
The other side
Is white
I wonder why
The sky
Is broken into two
I look down
To see the faces
Of men who'll die
Before me
I look up
Back to see the sky
All one color now
Its black
poem by Allison Unknown
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Robbery, Assault Battery
The streets were deserted though the police were alerted,
They considered the phone call a hoax.
Furtively glancing then jauntily prancing
The youth caught the guards unaware.
Slipping between them he ought to have seen then
The eyes and their owner so near.
With torch shining bright he strode on in the night
Till he came to the room with the safe.
Hello son, I hope youre having fun.
Youve got it wrong sir, Im only the cleaner.
With that he fired, the other saying as he died,
Youve done me wrong, its the same old song forever.
Robbery, assault and battery,
The felon and his felony.
Robbery, assault and battery,
The felon and his felony.
Picked up the diamonds and bundles of fivers
He pushed them well down in his sack.
But the alarm had been sounded, he was completely surrounded
But he had some more tricks up his sleeve.
Come outside with your hands held high.
Youll not get me alive sir, I promise you that sir.
With that he fired, the other saying as he died
Youve done me wrong, its the same old song forever.
Robbery, assault and battery,
The felon and his felony.
Robbery, assault and battery,
The felon and his felony.
Hes leaving via the roof, the bastards got away.
God always fights on the side of the bad man.
Ive got clean away but Ill be back some day,
Just the combination will have changed.
Some day theyll catch me, to a chain theyll attach me,
Until that day Ill ride the old crime wave.
If they try to hold me for trial
Ill stay out of gaol by paying my bail
And after Ill go to the court of appeal saying
Youve done me wrong, its the same old song forever.
Done me wrong - same old song - done me wrong.
song performed by by Genesis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Cell Phone Mania
Cell phones to the right,
Cell phones to the left,
Cell phones, cell phones,
everywhere I look.
Red alert, stop! Listen,
shut up and drive,
shut up and read,
Cell phones, why so many.
Everyone talking,
cell phones in cars,
cell phones in bars,
eating places, cell phones.
There you can't escape
from them, you say
to yourself, the restroom,
no one would dare
use cell phone in there,
oh no, I hear someone,
talking to me, I answer them,
oh, sorry sir, did not know you
were on cell phone.
Oh, so many,
shut up, and walk.
Do away with cell phones,
and it would be like,
the crash of '29'.
People need cell phones,
sometimes their nice,
to have, but so many,
cell phones, might
as well join them
if you can't lick 'em,
join them.
Cell phone, cell phone
now how do I use this
thing, oh cell phone, cell phone,
Hello, Hello, oh that's
you mert.
wrote 1-19-07
Give The Radio Back
Hey teacher, what are you trying to do?
I'm getting tired of livin' in this zoo
You slap me in the face and you knock me down
You beat my head right in to the ground
I've never felt this way before
I can't take it no more
So give the radio back
Yeah, give the radio back
Give the radio back to the maniacs
Well, there's a party going on outside
All my friends got ya terrified
Don't call no cops or the state police
Don't break up this blown out symphony
You think I'm wasting all my precious time
You say my music oughta be a crime
Well, give the radio back
Give the radio back
Yeah, give the radio back to the maniacs
To the maniacs
I never ever felt this way before
Ain't gonna take it no more
Yeah, give the radio
Give the radio back
Give the radio back to the maniacs
To the maniacs
Yeah, give the radio to the maniacs
Give the radio to the maniacs
Give it, give it, give the radio
To the maniacs
The little maniacs, you're all maniacs
song performed by by Alice Cooper
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Everything Is Broken
Broken lines, broken strings
Broken threads, broken springs,
Broken idols, broken heads,
People sleeping in broken beds.
Aint no use jiving,
Aint no use joking,
Everything is broken.
Broken bottles, broken plates,
Broken switches, broken gates,
Broken dishes, broken parts,
Streets are filled with broken hearts.
Broken words never meant to be spoken,
Everything is broken.
Seems like every time you stop and turn around
Something else just hit the ground
Broken cutters, broken saws,
Broken buckles, broken laws,
Broken bodies, broken bones,
Broken voices on broken phones
Take a deep breath, feel like youre chokin,
Everything is broken.
Every time you leave and go off someplace
Thangs fall to pieces in my face
Broken hands on broken ploughs,
Broken treaties, broken vows,
Broken pipes, broken tools,
People bending broken rules.
Hound dog howling, bull frog croaking,
Everything is broken.
song performed by by Kenny Wayne Shepherd
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
Vote! | Copy!
Cul de sac
At the parking
of the Ok-bazaar / Shoprite in Springs
a one-way street runs out
straight into a traffic light
that cuts a T
into two directions.
This morning the traffic light
is blocked
by a crowd of rioters
that comes from the right side,
from where I want to go.
The police block the road
to the left with a car
and some policemen walk along
with the uprising.
There’s a foreman, instigator
or head man
walking in front
and he hops up and down
and shouts something to me
and he comes straight in my direction
and it looks as if the devil is in him
with a crowd
of revolting barbarians following him.
Nobody is going to drill me
with bags of rubbish
and tree branches
or throw pieces of glass
in front of my tyres
and the light is red
and the rioters are half mad
and my motorbike has a lot of power
and its boss cannot wait.
The policeman says stop
but can hardly
look out for himself
and what about me?
I drive past
going straight for the leader
and give a lot of gas,
my motorbike
can cut fine corners,
although it’s past the back
of a police car.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Give It Back
[hook:]
Give it back, give it back, give it back
(give my uh uh back)
Give it back, give it back, give it back
(give my uh uh back)
Give it back
Give it back, give it back, give it back
(give my uh uh back)
Give it back, give it back, give it back
(give my uh uh back)
[verse i:]
I thought I met a good man whose name I wont discuss
He sold me a dream that we were really in love
But I heard it on the street that you were steppin out on me
Now Im walking out that door and taking everything with me
Give it to me back
[hook]
[babys rap]
[verse 2:]
You say you want your car back and the keys to your house
But theres one thing I want before I get the hell out
No recalls, no coupon, I wants my refund
Im sorry I met you cuz boy youre not the one
[hook]
[bridge:]
I heard it, heard it on the street
You were steppin out on me
No coupons, no recalls
I want my refund, yeah
[manny freshs rap]
[hook]
song performed by by Toni Braxton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
God Help You If You Drive
I've burgled, raped and pillaged,
But I find it really funny,
The police don't tend bother me,
It would cost them too much money.
I've committed countless other crimes,
But I know I won't be sought,
It means that they would have to work,
That's why I won't get caught.
The reason they won't come after me,
Is all to do with logistics,
Drivers are an easy touch,
We boost their crime statistics.
Leave your vehicle without road tax,
The police will be in a rush,
You'll be fined, they'll steal your car,
Saying sorry but we have to crush.
Overstay the parking lot,
You'll soon feel put upon,
When you come back to drive away,
You'll find your car has gone.
At first you'll think it's stolen,
It's nowhere to be found,
Then when you phone the police for help,
They'll say, ‘'it's in the pound''.
You will not be shown sympathy,
Of common sense there'll be a lack,
You'll have to pay big money,
If you want to get it back.
The fines can be worth more than the car,
They'll cost you a bloody mint,
If and when you claim it back,
Either way you'll end up ''skint''
It's akin to highway robbery,
But they think it's really deft,
In effect they steal your car,
But don't get charged with theft.
If I get caught committing murder,
My lawyer will be misleading,
But woe betide the drivers,
Whenever they're caught speeding.
They tell you you're on camera,
We've got you banged to rights,
If you try to argue back,
They'll say you went through red lights.
If you argue you are innocent,
You're well and truly sunk,
They'll say you smell of alcohol,
Therefore you must be drunk.
They'll treat you like a piece of dirt,
Their attitude will be abrupt,
Is it really any wonder,
We think they're all corrupt.
To the police you're an easy target,
Why look for the robbers stash,
It's easier to pick on drivers,
To them we're worth more cash.
Every single driving offence,
Carries a hefty fine,
You'll get less for armed robbery,
If you step out of line.
There is an easy answer,
Take it easy, don't make a fuss,
Get rid of the wretched car,
Then go jump on a bloody bus.
It's a really sad indictment,
But sadly it's a fact,
Commit any crime you want to,
But don't breach the road traffic act.
The weight of the law will come down on you,
You'll have a licence full of points,
In addition you'll get banned from driving,
You'd get less for selling joints.
Ask a policeman what his job is,
He'll say preventing and solving crime,
But you drivers are the easiest prey,
For real criminals we have no time.
As crime levels soar throughout the world,
Police targets must be met,
Motorists are the easy option,
It's you they'll be out to get.
They'll bully and intimidate you,
Their harassment will go far,
That henious crime you're responsible for,
Driving your beloved car.
So the moral of this story is,
That's why real criminals thrive,
Murder and rob just who you like,
but,
‘' God Help You If You Drive''.