En.Citatepedia^®.ro

The city has a deadly wound

The city has a deadly wound
and on the street without a place to go,
sits an old man and his old wife
and their small white dog.

I see a blonde girl watching cars,
to buy a piece of bread
and her face tells that she has problems
and I wonder how she washes
the dirt of the road from herself?

a Red haired guy sleeps in boxes on the sidewalk
and at a traffic light there’s children that sniffs glue.
At another traffic light
there’s a couple with a baby,
that stands in the hot sun
and is dependant on motorists for their fate.

Just before a traffic circle there’s a man
with short pants,
where day after day
he sells koeksisters.

a Man with dark glasses and a hat
strokes his guitar
chord after chord and sings sad songs
and I see that his hat is empty
where he is in a small alley
while minibus taxis hoot the whole time.

Taxes are getting higher
and everybody has to bare the brunt of it,
but the poor are on the street with their pain
and wait for the misery to pass
like flowers trying to blossom in a desert
and they are surprised and scarred by life
and wait in vain for a place in the sun.

[Koeksisters=> a Baked delicacy with syrup in it.]

poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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To me you are

To me you are the woman
that walks up and down
at the traffic light
and smiles almost shy,
when I look up
and still give a view
of her breasts

To me you are
the hunger and pain,
that I hear in the voices
of children in back streets
where they loose all courage.

To me you are
the crippled gum sniffing children,
that swing walk
with eyes without hope.

To me you are the vagrant,
that struggles along shuffling
and worries about the next
sleeping place and food
and smile without teeth
when he gets a few coins.

To me you are the beggar
who stands unobserved
at a busy traffic light,
while cars are streaming past
where nobody knows or comprehends
his despair.

To me you are the drug dealers
who hangs out in clubs
and look whom they can still catch,
with their contaminating
deadly poison.

To me you are the street thug,
that brakes car windows with bricks
and steal the valuables of people
and sell it at only a Rand or two.

To me you are the criminal
that steals cars in the streets
and are happy
with the despair,
that he is dealing out unscrupulous.

In reality you are the big city
that gives and takes,
where people live like termites
past each other
and rowed in,
as if others do not exist

To rather stay far away from it all
and to get rest and peace there
at times wants to take predominance,
but I love you
like a husband does his wife.

In you is where
some people still build dreams
and wish and live
and have an own place.

In you I see children
giving bread to birds
and people,
giving money to car guards.

In you are places
where people are making a living
and really help each other
and still I believe,
that in places in you
there are more good than evil.

poem by Gert Strydom
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Crosstown Traffic

You jump in front of my car
When you know all the time
That 90 miles an hour Girl Is the speed I drive
You tell me it's all right
You don't mind a little pain
You say you just want me to take you for a drive

You're just like CROSSTOWN TRAFFIC
So hard to get through you CROSSTOWN TRAFFIC
I don't need to run over you CROSSTOWN TRAFFIC
All you do is slow me down
But I'm tryin' to get on the other side of town

I'm not the only soul who's accused of hit and run
Tire tracks all across your back I can see you've had your fun
But a-darling
Can't you see my signal's turn from green to red
And with you I can see a traffic jam straight ahead

You're just like CROSSTOWN TRAFFIC
So hard to get through you CROSSTOWN TRAFFIC
I don't need to run over you CROSSTOWN TRAFFIC
All you do is slow me down
But I got better things on the other side of town

Yeah Yeah Crosstown traffic
Look out LOOK OUT Look out Baby
Coming through CROSSTOWN TRAFFIC
Yeah Yeah Look out CROSSTOWN TRAFFIC
Yeah Yeah LOOK OUT Look out Look out Baby
CROSSTOWN TRAFFIC LOOK OUT YEAH

song performed by by Hanson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Traffic Island Cop

Just one wave of his hands
The long lines of vehicles stop
Sun burnt rain drenched
Emotionless he stands
The traffic island cop!
You curse him if the wait is long
He’s just a faceless object
Like a post stands erect
In a fast lane his whistle blows
The traffic slows….

He has home, a wife
Away from traffic a life
A face without uniform
A corner to keep him warm
A vastly different island
Where he hates to command
And hopes no whistle brings to stop
The happiness of a traffic island cop!

poem by Pradip Chattopadhyay
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Heat In The City

Bumper to bumper traffic in the heat of the city
The air is thick and dusty full of smog and gritty
Dirty Yellow Cabs contributing to noisy confusion
While a hot dog stand on the corner sells profusion

The pavement is sticky reflecting the heat in waves
Throughout cars are swallowed by hot asphalt graves
Overcrowded busses spit out passengers one by one
While temperatures are rising with an unforgiving sun

Vegetables and fruits for sale covered in dirt and grime
On the sidewalks of the city bait flies in the mean time
People rushing downstairs to the Metro escaping the heat
Only realizing that it is just as bad and by far no retreat

A broken fire hydrant provides the illusion of cool relieve
But only street children bathe in the grey water taking leave
A lonely traffic cop damp with perspiration looks atrocious
Hot sweaty faces wait for his signal resentful and ferocious

Curriers on bikes with sunburns between cars are speeding
Steaming masses waiting for the light before proceeding
The smells of the hot city are overpowering and very strong
Torturing its inhabitants without sense of right and wrong

poem by Kristina Louisa Carr
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On Lillian Way

night
cold gray against greenish black
street lamp globes against
rectangle buildings
sitting in a parked car
along the deserted alleyways
off santa monica boulevard
car windows fogged
the cold green street lights
filtered through the prism
of a broken windshield
delicate spiderwebs of
white light diffusion

only in L.A.
a prostitute stands
against the bare wall
under a street light
with traffic going by

on the sidewalk
across the street
cocaine sellers asking
“what do you want? ”
“what do you need? ”

beside the building
a bottle and can collector
inspects a long low
excuse for a trash barrel

the prostitute
draws a lot of attention
cars pull to the curb
windows unwind

in the car adjacent
derelicts are fixing dope
shooting up in the
luminous twilight

now the whore has a trick
a car door slams
and tires spin away

much like a river
the wind has stirred up the palm leaves
and palmetto shadows
extra currents for a
3 a.m. late night traffic flow

much like my soft core
more than usually hard core
translucent shadows

on the concave street
vertical street signs
body schisms

poem by Theresa Haffner
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Bus ride at night

At quarter to five
the driver refuses,
that I get on a bus
in Burnett street
because it is already full.

There are men, woman and children
and we talk various languages
while we wait for the bus
and I see a car guard
dancing in the street
while he does tricks like a clown.

We wait on the next bus
and the afternoon passes
and the bus is very late
and it stays away
and just Putco and North Star busses
stop at other places.

At dusk the bus appears
and it’s got a double deck,
but is also full
and on the top level the roof is so low
that I bump my head
while it draws from the curb.

There’s no place to sit down
before we travel halfway to the city
and there’s a crowd of people around me
and we sit tight against each other
and in the front a child is holding onto a bar
while she licks the window with her tongue
and try to draw spit lines.

The bus braids through cars,
but it takes longer than an hour
to ride two stages
and a woman calls her husband
to pick her up at church square.

In Visagie Street the cars stand in a traffic jam
and it becomes night
while we wait in the traffic
and I embark from the bus
and twist through the pedestrians
and everywhere there are people
that stand in dark corners
and alleyways
and shout at each other in foreign languages.

At Church square I see stars in the sky,
but uncle Paul looks friendly
while the lights
of a few cars passes by
and I see how his men
are protecting him
and there’s nobody else in the street
and I wonder what to do
if the last bus has already left.

I wait at night at a bus stop
and an old black man
comes and stand near me
and we are both glad,
to catch a ride
on the last bus.

The bus is lighted brightly
And it’s comfortable and hot inside
and I see the zoo passing by
just before the bus stops for me
and red lights
disappears in the distance
and the evening wind tugs at my jacket,
but my house is near.

poem by Gert Strydom
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Crosstown Traffic

You jump in front of my car when you,
You know all the time that
Ninty miles an hour, girl, is the speed I drive
You tell me it's alright, you don't mind a little pain
You say you just want me to take you for a ride
You're just like crosstown traffic
So hard to get through to you
Crosstown traffic
I don't need to run over you
Crosstown traffic
All you do is slow me down
And I'm tryin' to get on the other side of town
I'm not the only soul who's accused of hit and run
Tire tracks all across your back
I can see you had your fun
But darlin' can't you see my signals turn from green to red
And with you I can see a traffic jam straight up ahead
You're just like crosstown traffic
So hard to get through to you
Crosstown traffic
I don't need to run over you
Crosstown traffic
All you do is slow me down
And I got better things on the other side of town

song performed by by Red Hot Chili Peppers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Beayty Of Gauteng

Auto shining on the street
The TelkomTelecommunication tower
The CellC tower container at southwest of Johannesburg
Vodacom tower a night shining
With the shine light of the nation tour attraction.

The Lucs flats my hero,
The beauty of my soul,
Standing behind Parktonain hotel,
My so called hotel.

Attraction of the roaming lights
Of the cockroaches traffic cars.
Ooh, the wonderful song
In the soul of my heart,
Fabulous bell of traffic alert
Through Rissik & Smith Street.
The nice place Gold Reef city,
The ultimate king of holidays.

Soweto the rainbow
Thembisa the promise of legend
Alexander Looting of natural people.
Mine dump aside the road
Proving Gauteng a place of gold,
A Precious metal of death.

Prostitution on every corner
Two meter is a longest distance.
Everyone seems to be a hero
Hero of dying and surviving.

Thai is Gauteng the place of happiness,
The place of sorrow
And the place of death and surviving.
I love to hate Gauteng.

poem by Murendeni Mulaudzi
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Crosstown Traffic

You jump in front of my car when you,
You know all the time that
Ninty miles an hour, girl, is the speed I drive
You tell me its alright, you dont mind a little pain
You say you just want me to take you for a ride
Youre just like crosstown traffic
So hard to get through to you
Crosstown traffic
I dont need to run over you
Crosstown traffic
All you do is slow me down
And Im tryin to get on the other side of town
Im not the only soul whos accused of hit and run
Tire tracks all across your back
I can see you had your fun
But darlin cant you see my signals turn from green to red
And with you I can see a traffic jam straight up ahead
Youre just like crosstown traffic
So hard to get through to you
Crosstown traffic
I dont need to run over you
Crosstown traffic
All you do is slow me down
And I got better things on the other side of town

song performed by by Jimi Hendrix
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Railroad Town

The diesel locomotive wailed
Like a sick bull as it approached
The intersection; five bellows.
The dreaded traffic light turned red
And all of us just sat waiting
For this snail-like, slow-moving
Freight train to pass, while the traffic
was backing up to infinity.
Life becomes a standstill in time:
If your appendix burst, pray to god;
If you're in labor, tough titty;
If late for work, you curse and swear!
So you wait and count the freight cars...
One hundred one…one hundred two…

Onward west they roll
Swaying, screeching, click-clanking
Along rusty tracks.

poem by Albert Ahearn
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Where The Sidewalk Ends

There is a place where the sidewalk ends
and before the street begins,
and there the grass grows soft and white,
and there the sun burns crimson bright,
and there the moon-bird rests from his flight
to cool in the peppermint wind.

Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black
and the dark street winds and bends.
Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow
we shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow
and watch where the chalk-white arrows go
to the place where the sidewalk ends.

Yes we'll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
and we'll go where the chalk-white arrows go,
for the children, they mark, and the children, they know,
the place where the sidewalk ends.

poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
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Not Only Human

Morning is almost here - let it wait
I just want to lie here awhile, tempting fate
I dont think I could breathe now with you gone
But its not weakness its just something Ive begun
Maybe theres a light thats always on
Maybe were not only human, maybe
Maybe theres a light thats always on
And were not only human
When youre sleeping your ceramic
Youre surrounded by little stars
Every shimmer is a searchlight
Every planet is ours
Change the street change the decade
Still the longings left inside
But why am I too small to carry you?
Why does twilight make me cry?
Maybe theres a light thats always on
Maybe were not only human, maybe
Maybe theres a light thats always on
And were not only human
When all is said and done
When all the weight is gone
When all is said and done
When all the weight is gone
Were not only human
Life is something set to music
I can hear it when Im sad
Theres a chord in every muscle
Every kiss you ever had
Theres a power when youre near me
In our heads or in our bones
I know nothing but Im guessing
When we die were not alone
Maybe theres a light thats always on
Maybe were not only human, maybe
Maybe theres a light thats always on
And were not only human
When all is said and done
When all the weight is gone
When all is said and done
When all the weight is gone
Were not only human
Not only human
Not only human
Not only human
Not only, yeah, human.
No, human, human.
Human.

song performed by by Heather Nova
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Main Street

(For S.M.L.)

I like to look at the blossomy track of the moon upon the sea,
But it isn't half so fine a sight as Main Street used to be
When it all was covered over with a couple of feet of snow,
And over the crisp and radiant road the ringing sleighs would go.

Now, Main Street bordered with autumn leaves, it was a pleasant thing,
And its gutters were gay with dandelions early in the Spring;
I like to think of it white with frost or dusty in the heat,
Because I think it is humaner than any other street.

A city street that is busy and wide is ground by a thousand wheels,
And a burden of traffic on its breast is all it ever feels:
It is dully conscious of weight and speed and of work that never ends,
But it cannot be human like Main Street, and recognise its friends.

There were only about a hundred teams on Main Street in a day,
And twenty or thirty people, I guess, and some children out to play.
And there wasn't a wagon or buggy, or a man or a girl or a boy
That Main Street didn't remember, and somehow seem to enjoy.

The truck and the motor and trolley car and the elevated train
They make the weary city street reverberate with pain:
But there is yet an echo left deep down within my heart
Of the music the Main Street cobblestones made beneath a butcher's cart.

God be thanked for the Milky Way that runs across the sky,
That's the path that my feet would tread whenever I have to die.
Some folks call it a Silver Sword, and some a Pearly Crown,
But the only thing I think it is, is Main Street, Heaventown.

poem by Joyce Kilmer
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Stolen Car

Late at night in summer heat. Expensive car, empty street
There's a wire in my jacket. This is my trade
It only takes a moment, don't be afraid
I can hotwire an ignition like some kind of star
I'm just a poor boy in a rich man's car
So I whisper to the engine, flick on the lights
And we drive into the night
Oh the smell of the leather always excited my imagination
And I picture myself in this different situation
I'm a company director, two kids and a wife
I get the feeling that there's more to this one's life
There's some kind of complication, he tells her he's alone
Spends the night with his lover, there's a trace of her cologne
And the words of his mistress, as she whispers them so near
Start ringing in my ear
Please take me dancing tonight I've been all on my own
You promised one day we could its, what you said on the phone
I'm just a prisoner of love always hid form the light
Take me dancing, please take me dancing tonight
I imagine his wife, she don't look nothing like a fool
She picks the kids up form some private school
She remembers what he told her, he was late and worked alone
But there's more than a suspicion in this lingering cologne
And the kid's just won't be quiet and she runs a traffic light
And she drives into the night
Please take me dancing tonight I've been all on my own
You promised one day we could it's what you said on the phone
I'm just a prisoner of love always hid from the light
Take me dancing, please take me dancing tonight
So here am I in a stolen car at a traffic light
They go form red to green and so I just drive into the night
Please take me dancing tonight I've been all on my own
You promised one

song performed by by Sting
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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English Sons

One, two, three, four
Girl, on the edge flippin off the lamp
Therell be an end darling to your endless night
On the other side of the street.
Yea, the light on your portrait and the light in your face
And youll be looking for another pretty place
Baby, this side of the street.
Well, keep dreaming baby that your desire brings and girl
I know the sadness that you find in things, its true
Well, baby if you cant take the heat, what can I do?
Well, you and your poetry and your boku (? !) world
Behind the face you hide the face of a modern girl
On the other side of the street.
Yea, youve got the look as if you owe the world
Therefore, you go out there and say what you can earn
On the wrong side of the street.
Well, you tire of every day bringing the same and so you
Go out looking for some strange new games
Well, pretty soon you dont know the score anymore.
All right now........... (guitar break)
I know the danger that your desire brings
And I know the strangeness that youll find
Wait and it will seem straighter for you and for me.
Well, turn on the end and baby turn off the lamps
Therell be an end darling to this endless night
On the other side of the street.
Yea, and everyday - well- it just brings the same
You started looking for some very strange new games
On the wrong side of the street.
Well, you and your desires lead to confusion
Well, walk away as I dont follow your illusions
And see, open your eyes and see, girl.
All right..........

song performed by by Bruce Springsteen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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English Sons (aka 'English Night')

One, two, three, four
Girl, on the edge flippin off the lamp
Therell be an end darling to your endless night
On the other side of the street.
Yea, the light on your portrait and the light in your face
And youll be looking for another pretty place
Baby, this side of the street.
Well, keep dreaming baby that your desire brings and girl
I know the sadness that you find in things, its true
Well, baby if you cant take the heat, what can I do?
Well, you and your poetry and your boku (? !) world
Behind the face you hide the face of a modern girl
On the other side of the street.
Yea, youve got the look as if you owe the world
Therefore, you go out there and say what you can earn
On the wrong side of the street.
Well, you tire of every day bringing the same and so you
Go out looking for some strange new games
Well, pretty soon you dont know the score anymore.
All right now........... (guitar break)
I know the danger that your desire brings
And I know the strangeness that youll find
Wait and it will seem straighter for you and for me.
Well, turn on the end and baby turn off the lamps
Therell be an end darling to this endless night
On the other side of the street.
Yea, and everyday - well- it just brings the same
You started looking for some very strange new games
On the wrong side of the street.
Well, you and your desires lead to confusion
Well, walk away as I dont follow your illusions
And see, open your eyes and see, girl.
All right..........

song performed by by Bruce Springsteen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Six o’clock on a Friday morning

It’s six o’clock on a Friday morning
and I wait for my bus
and across the street,
the lights are burning cheerful and yellow
in the square and dome shaped windows
of the state library
and I wonder what documents are kept there

Street hawkers sell newspapers and sweets
in front of the Pretoria News,
while passengers are already
catching busses in rows.

There’s an icy chill
that hangs in the morning dawn light
and there’s a skew pointed obelisk
that is in front of the high court chambers
and a newspaper heading
talks about the recession
that is blowing hot and cold,
but it’s freezing
and the cold even eats
right through my leader jacket.

On the east side of Vermeulen Street
the sky becomes a light yellow,
while the blue of the heaven
folds open all over the rest
and streetlights stand in a long row
up the street past traffic lights.

Schoolgirls dressed in blue
are watching school boys with red jerseys
and young women
stand and shake
from the cold and I wonder,
how the old red delivery bicycle
behind the pillar
are not getting stolen
where it stands every morning on its place.

There’s a street sign that points to the Pierneef museum
into the L te Groen Eureka factory building,
but it’s still too early
to go and look at paintings
and I wonder how
the Pierneef paintings inside looks.

On the side of a building
I am amazed at the Tswane sign,
but this big city
will always stay Pretoria for me
and I wonder how people
can build buildings so pressed into each other
and look at old and new buildings
standing rowed in onto each other
and the bus stays away,
while others come and go
and I wait
a while longer in the cold.

poem by Gert Strydom
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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
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People On The Street

People on the street need a place to go
People on the street need a place to go
Walkin with the beat if its not too slow
Walkin with the beat if its not too slow
When the nights dark shadow falls
On the sidewalk scenes and the concrete canyon walls.
People on the street need a place to go
People on the street need a place to go.
Walkin through the night up and down the avenue
Lookin for a place,
A place to go,
A place to go.
Theres a muffled scream from the alley scene
From the alley scene comes a muffled scream
And the siren wails while the system fails
In the steaming heat people walk in the street
People cant run and hide
If you want to feel good then you gotta feel good inside.
People on the street need a place to go
People on the street need a place to go.
Rising through the grates come the fumes of industry
Floating to the sky
Keep walkin with the beat, walkin with the beat
Keep walkin with the beat, walkin with the beat
Keep walkin with the beat, walkin with the beat
When the nights dark shadow falls
On the sidewalk scenes and the concrete canyon walls.
People on the street need a place to go
People on the street need a place to go.

song performed by by Neil Young
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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