The Crowded Street
They rush past
in a never ending crowd
some in uniforms
of police, soldiers,
security men and nurses,
some in suits, some with ties
and others in informal clothes.
Some are stone faced
with no emotion showing
while their thoughts
is somewhere else,
some are happy and smiling,
others are sad and some are crying.
Some carry briefcases, some suitcases
and other backpacks, handbags
and others bags.
Almost every one
has a place to go
where duty or pleasure takes them,
but here and there
some wander as if lost from life,
others hawk things at corners
and some stand around begging.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Suitcases Don't Have Wings
Small bags big bags
Black bags white bags
Suitcases hey hey hey
For work and for play
Crammed full of things
Suitcases dont have wings
White bags black bags
Complete with one-way tags
Dragging us down
Ever closer to the ground
All the time they sing
Suitcases dont have wings
Big bags small bags
That behind us we drag
Past present and future
We cram so much in n' gotcha
We've been forgetting
suitcases dont have wings
All bags every bag
That we painfully drag
Drop them at jesus feet
Cause all ur needs he'll meet
Suitcases hey hey hey
They get in the way
Drop them if you want in
Suitcases dont have wings
poem by Joses Tirtabudi
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Johannesburg
There are mini-bus taxis everywhere
hooting, swerving, stopping anywhere
and people on the street
shouting to each other
as if they are not
in talking distance,
but as if everybody is deaf.
Some hawkers are selling
sweets, cigarettes and newspapers
while others are cooking maize,
porridge and eggs.
Youngsters stand next to
parking meters showing
open parking spaces
and demanding money
to watch vehicles parked there.
Some hobos sleep
in tattered blankets
and smell of wine
and liquor and the sick
sweet odour or retching.
Prostitutes walk up and down
street corners in mini skirts
and t-shirts
with nipples showing through
and have hello smiles
plastered across their faces.
Some gum sniffing children
beg at traffic lights
with twisted arms and legs
and other beggars
have posters wishing you well
or telling you to go to hell.
People queue in lines
waiting for busses
and some stand smoking
while they talk
and businessmen, lawyers,
soldiers, secretaries
are walking quickly past
with briefcases, satchels,
and handbags
and on the sidewalk
there is urine,
blood, vomit, some rotting food
and smoked cigarettes
and everywhere signs
of a city in a country
that is falling apart.
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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Sweet Dreams
Sweet dreams are made of many things
The different thoughts that we constantly think
The very things that that lie in our fantasies
And create a thought that's tenaciously sweet
That we savor so much while soundly asleep
Things that can only happen in dreams
My sweet dreams are made of you
The perfect moments and the perfect gloom
The perfect place and the perfect dream
But whatever could be more perfect than you?
Is only what I can conjure in my sleep
Life is a reality and dreams are the opposite
It's the time we find peace from every worry
It's a place where every story has a happy ending
It's a place where every person has a chance to be happy
It's a place where you and I have a happy ending
A cradle song before we sleep
And escape the grimes of reality
And the things that keep you away from me
Life is a reality and dreams are the opposite
Dreams are the sweetest and life is life
In my dreams you and I are happy
But in reality... life is life.
Sweet dreams are made of many things
And mine are made of you
poem by Hafeni Nghidinua
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Island Of Dreams
(tom springfield)
(the springfields)
I wander the streets
And the gay crowded places
Trying to forget you
But somehow it seems
That my thoughts ever stray
To our last sweet embraces
Over the sea on the island of dreams
High in the sky is a bird on a wing
Please carry me with you
Far far away from the mad rushing crowd
Please carry me with you
Again I would wander
Where memories enfold me
There on the beautiful island of dreams
High in the sky is a bird on the wing
Please carry me with you
Far far away from the mad rushing crowd
Please carry me with you
Again I would wander
Where memories enfold me
There on the beautiful island of dreams
Far far away on the island of dreams
song performed by by Dusty Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Below a beggar
Don’t stand begging for things
Like of which you have got.
Don’t stand begging for things
Like of which you yourself could earn.
Don’t stand begging for things
Like of which you can live without.
Should you lower yourself
Below a beggar before a giver?
11.07.2007
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Dog Faced Boy
Eels - dog faced boy
-----------------------
Coming home from the school today
Crying all along the way
Aint no way for a boy to be
Begging ma to shave me please
You little punks think you own this town
Well someday someones gonna bring you down
Life aint pretty for a dog faced boy
Life aint pretty for a dog faced boy
You, take back what you said now
Thats the last time I cry
You tell me what it is to be a friend, now
till I walk beside you on the street now
Ma wont shave me
Jesus cant save me
Dog faced boy
Life aint pretty for a dog faced boy
Life aint pretty for a dog faced boy
Life aint pretty for a dog faced boy
Life aint pretty for a dog faced boy
Going back to the school tomorrow
Hang my hairy head in sorrow
Aint no way for a boy to be
Aint no way to set me free, now
Ma wont shave me
Jesus cant save me
Dog faced boy
Ma wont shave me
Jesus cant save me
Dog faced boy
song performed by by Eels
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Way Of Life Professed
he is lost
he intends to be lost
in the crowd
he never
belongs
to anyone
he is lost
he loves to be lost
forever
he has no world
no place
to stay
he has no breasts to hold
and keep
him in place
so keeps on looking
somewhere
where he can have a place
where he
can stay put
he is not afraid to become
a stone
only if he can find
a home
there is no one
no place
and he learns it after
so many
fears and then
he begins to love
this feeling
got stuck to
being lost
as a way of life
professed.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Confession In My Rhymes
depression leaves me down
it leaves me feeling lost
friends they leave my side
and left me feeling crossed
time just takes it's toll
the dark times take a hold
sitting near gods flame
feeling only cold
looking at the sky
then glancing to the floor
then asking God this question
what is this life for
telling of a place
that light won't show the way
begging god to take me
then begging him to stay
writing words of rage
inside the soul I tell
lost inside the life
lonely in my shell
standing just to fall again
sinking in depression
telling in my rhymes
the thoughts of my confession
poem by One Man Alone
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United We Stand
Do you want to change yourself,
But your shyness is a wall
'Cause you don't' really feel bad
But also not good at all
Are you still waiting
For the big crack?
Did they rip you off?
Do you want your money back?
You have so many dreams
But your thoughts are an abyss
And you think you are the only one
Who feels like this
You are not alone
You are Not alone
We are with you
And we stand like a stone
You are not alone
You are Not alone
We are millions
And we are your backbone
Don't you think sometimes
What would be if?
Do you want to throw your your life
Down the highest cliff?
You think the others are happy
Cause you never see them cry
And that they threw you out of the paradise
And you don't get why
Do you want to show us
What's all in you?
Do you want to be perfect?
Do you want to be happy, too?
You are not alone
You are Not alone
We are with you
And we stand like a stone
You are not alone
And soon you will see
We are millions
And we allow you to be...
...Or not to be
Is the question that is the key
And the fear to loose the game
Is the nightmare that chases us all since 2000 BC
Would you like to be good looking?
Would you like to be rich?
But you need to do something for it
'Cause Life is a bitch
We don't want to wait any longer
And we are so sick of disgust
So where are all the nice thing
That the advertisements have promised
Ever single one of us
You are not alone
You are Not alone
We are with you
and we stand like a stone
You are not alone
You are Not alone
We are millions
and we are your backbone
You are not alone
United we stand
You can try to stop us
But You can't
You are not alone
United we stand
and there will be death
everywhere we went
poem by Kai Neldner
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Lost Memories
I turn to my past i see all my happy moments
i see all the boys saying i love you
i see all those that say i will never let you down
i see all these people saying you are mine
all these moments made me very happy and smile
i turn to my past again an i see the revers
i see all the boys saying they hate me
i see them all walking away and laughing
i hear my self saying please come back
i see all these people saying i don't want you again disapear
but then i still hear my self yelling please please please
these moments hurt me and made me hate the world
i come back to my present
i see someone smiling at me
showing me a tiny key
i walked up to him and he said
it is the key to your heart have it and decide
i took it and handed it to him saying
now it is yours decide
he opened my heart and sees all my sadness and try all his possible best to make me happy again
now he put the key in a golden case saying i am a gold and pressious
i felt alive again and put his own key in the same case saying now we are one
Again i turned to my past but this time it was different because there was no one there just as if no one has ever been there smiling i put a sign saying LOST MEMORIES heading for my present i decided never to return in my past again
poem by Juslaine Larie
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Without A Laugh Day
Some people about money they worry themselves gray
But life is scarce worth living without a laugh a day
For if you live without laughter how boring your life must be
You are worse off than a pauper though you may be well off financially.
Who could not love the sound of laughter to it there is such a happy ring
And the simple gift of laughter it is such a marvellous thing
And those without the gift of laughter deserve some sympathy
For sad faced and humourless people do not make good company.
The person who cannot laugh at a party out of place
And people always warm to the one with a happy and a smiling face
And with those who say that laughter is the best of medicine
How could one disagree
It has a warm glow to it that's how 'twould seem to me.
Some though financialy well off seem sad faced all of the time
And one never see them smiling as if to smile is a crime
For to get to know such people few will go out of their way
And life has to be quite boring without a laugh a day.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Dont Rush The Good Things
(n. gammack)
Producer: carter
Album: private dancer emi centenary edition (96)
B-side of the uk/ger whats love got to do with it single
Bought me a bottle of wine
Im gonna drink it tonight
And you can join me
Its gonna make us feel alright
Dont rush the good things
Dont rush the good things in life
Dont rush the good things
Dont rush the good things in life
Im gonna sip it slowly
Im not gonna rock it back
I am no historier but i
Ive learned from my past what Ive learned
Dont rush the good things
Dont rush the good things in life
Dont rush the good things
Dont rush the good things in life
Its a slow job falling in love
Its a slow job
Falling in love its a slow job
Dont rush good things tonight
You and me baby
No need to rush it tonight
Cause we got all the time in the world
Get it back, get it back
Get it back, get it back
Get it, get it, get it, get it
Dont rush the good things
Dont rush the good things in life
Dont rush the good things
Dont rush the good things in life
song performed by by Tina Turner
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Soldiers Family
Today we lost another soldier, I do not know
His/her name.
Today we lost a soldier, I don’t know
From whence he/she came.
This was a soldier fighting in a war
As so many other soldiers had done this before.
It matters not what country the soldier is from.
For they no longer fight for country, but for each other.
All beliefs, religions, and honors are blown in the wind.
For war is not a joy, it is but a sin.
Once the soldier is gone, the family must live to carry on.
Wondering if it’s all been in vain
And if there was anything to gain.
The pains and the memories the families must bear
And with each other these they share.
A smile, a joke, a laughter, or two
These were the things they shared with you.
A love story or a relationship gone bad
These were the things that made them happy or sad.
A mother who inwardly cries
For it is so hard to say good-bye.
Nine months in her stomach, then tending
And caring for them and watching the child grow
This is what every mother knows.
A soldiers life is lost, but it’s not just any soldier you see
For this is the one that came from the father and me.
Yes! My child was a soldier and on the battle front they died
Trying to protect the freedom for you and I.
But let us mourn for all soldiers, for they are comrades
Who fought side by side, until the moment that they died.
It matters not if they are classified as the enemy
Death on all sides, there are so many.
They cry for their children, the same as we
And their hearts they do bleed.
If we as parents and family would be united as one
We would have these governments” under our gun”.
Until that day- we will always be “ a soldiers family”.
poem by Louis Rams
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As Happy, Happy, Happy As Can Be
Bricklayer’s like to keep their spirit levels high
Joiner’s and Chippie’s will raise the rafters
They do the things that brings them joy
Things that give them the laughter’s
Their as happy, happy, happy as can be
Nurse’s keep their humour tender
Clown’s like to act the fool
Heating engineer’s like it hot
Ice cream makers keep it cool
Their all happy, happy, happy as can be
I like to be in your arms
Saying I love you’ listening to you saying I love you too
I like to see your smiling eyes
In which my smiling eyes look into
Then I am as happy, happy, happy as can be
You make me so happy, happy, happy as can be
Happiness is me as happy, happy, happy as can be
In love and as happy, happy, happy as can be
In love with you happy forever in love
As happy, happy, happy as can be
poem by Michael Micmac Mccrory
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Suitcases
Suitcases, suit, suite, cases, ties, it, case, cat, ice, use, sue, sues;
A sudden destruction is now seen in your land!
But, in the abundance of food, the fool is still hungry.
Suitcases, cut, cuts, sit, sits, sat, at, cats, is, as, sea, seas, uses;
The flood came and washed you away!
But, in the abundance of water, the fool is still thirsty.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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You Became Those 'Things
You became those 'things'.
Your car, your jewelry...
Watches and diamond rings.
The shoes and suits.
Shirts and ties.
The dinner parties you hosted.
With those hors d'oeuvres you insisted...
I would love if I tried!
You became those 'things'.
With such a credibility!
But when you lost them...
Something I saw died within you.
And the family you knew,
Saw that too.
None of us who witnessed it...
Recognized you at all!
Did you believe when those 'things' left...
You could restore your emptiness,
By pretending to be someone else?
That everyone would accept?
You became those 'things'!
And you expected us to accept nothing less.
Now you suggest we respect that.
But you invested your happiness in things.
And you neglected life!
You became those 'thing's you chose to be.
What makes you believe...
Now those things are gone,
You can be someone that is liked?
Without those things you seem to have no life.
And 'that' you chose to ignore.
Without them you seem such a bore!
You became those 'things'!
What are you now good for?
A useless nothingness?
You had said of me...
And your family.
And those who then had less!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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I Am......Therefore, I Feel! !
I am a child, lost in a strange and frightening world,
A refugee in a time of trouble.
I gaze upon the faces in a hostile crowd:
An orphan, whose home is a pile of rubble.
See me!
I am the victim of habitual abuse, crying for help
Though there's no-one to hear.
I cry myself to sleep each night
But can find no help or solace here.
Hear me!
I am the invisible person, unnoticed, unloved
Never showing the pain inside
Of having no-one there to come home to.
You'll never know the tears I've cried.
Touch me!
I am a broken spirit, forged by an unforgiving life.
Living in squalor, foraging for food,
Begging on the streets for coins,
Dependant on strangers in a giving mood.
Pity me!
poem by Dawn Ferrett
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The Land of Counterpane
When I was sick and lay a-bed,
I had two pillows at my head,
And all my toys beside me lay,
To keep me happy all the day.
And sometimes for an hour or so
I watched my leaden soldiers go,
With different uniforms and drills,
Among the bed-clothes, through the hills;
And sometimes sent my ships in fleets
All up and down among the sheets;
Or brought my trees and houses out,
And planted cities all about.
I was the giant great and still
That sits upon the pillow-hill,
And sees before him, dale and plain,
The pleasant land of counterpane.
poem by Robert Louis Stevenson
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They Look Like Us
What is going on over there?
'We have everything under control.
And those we have deemed suspicious,
Are currently being closely monitored.
And so far...
Our suspicions are being heightened,
By their unusual activities.'
What ACTIVITIES?
'Well...
In the past couple of hours,
We have spotted a number of them gathering together,
To bump fists with a greeting of one another,
With hugs and warm embraces.'
Would they be wearing dreads?
'Yes.'
Would they be strutting as if they were certain,
Of their identities.
And appearing proud of themselves?
'Yes. Yes.
How did you know that? '
These are the people who advocated protecting everyone,
By signs of terrorist movements in the area.
Who have you spotted that might fit that description?
'Well...
No one really.
Only the regular folks.
You know...
The ones wearing suits and ties.
And several other people walking around,
Carrying loaded backpacks held firmly in place...
By belts and ropes that are snuggly strapped.
Some are wearing berets on their heads.
And dressed in camouflage.
While holding tightly onto what appears musical intruments,
In long leather cases.'
And...
You find nothing suspicious about 'that' at all?
'No. Not really.
They look like us.
And we chose not to offend them.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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