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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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I am from Pretoria

Notwithstanding the way
that the country and world goes,
I still want to stand for many years
in the streets with purple-blue
Jacaranda trees.

Let my friends go and live
in London, New York,
Amsterdam and Sydney
but in Pretoria I earn my keep
and no other city
calls me away from my fatherland
since only Pretoria
is right for me.

I am from Pretoria,
a place where princes stay
and if you go to Pretoria
you will find many Afrikaner princes there.

In Pretoria noble Afrikaners are everywhere
and they build their lives
in the right way
and like their ancestors,
still cling to the hand
of the Almighty God.

poem by Gert Strydom
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Did It Rain Heavily Last Night?

i fell asleep
deep and
sound like
you i felt
i was dead

did it really rain
heavily last night?
the road is muddy
and i cannot take
a walk this morning

don't bother
i can go barefoot

don't bother
i like the mud

don't bother
i like being dirty

don't bother
the sun dries them all

and the water
at the pump
shall clean them all

don't bother
i am still alive.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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You’re in another country called Cape Town

I peer at a city
while the rain is pouring down
and see blue-white thunder
falling from the sky
while dark clouds are milling up high
blown by storm winds
and the smell of rain
rises fresh from the earth
and my thoughts loiter
and I know where I am
and you’re in far off Cape Town
and I in my Pretoria.

Below me I see the zoo
and a city stretched out
in clear squares,
great buildings among statues
and gardens,
and on a hill
the sacred place of a nation
and you’re in far off Cape Town
and I in my Pretoria.

The houses in the suburb
are build for the summer heat
with verandas and big rooms,
with yellowwood floors,
with fans in the ceilings
and yards as big as parks
and trees with purple blue blossoms
lining every street
and you’re in far off Cape Town
and I in my Pretoria.

I hear a crowd roaring
in the stadium near to the university
for their rugby team to win
and everywhere blue flags are waving
and some faces are painted blue
and some heads have caps
with horns thrusting into the air
and you’re in far off Cape Town
and I in my Pretoria.

On the other side of the mountain
avocado and some tropical trees grow
and here I stand in the hero’s acre
among the fallen great
and to Andries Pretorius
I offer my salute
and in church square
my eyes stare
at the statue of uncle Paul
who still faces north
now turning green
and you’re in another country called Cape Town
and I in my Pretoria.

[Reference: To -. Composed at Rotterdam by Thomas Hood.]

poem by Gert Strydom
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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
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Most of your precious jewels were stolen

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.

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.

poem by Gert Strydom
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Doppelgänger

He’s stolen my looks,
And read all my books,
He’s stolen my clothes,
Yes the basics too!
My underwear raided,
He’ll need smaller sizes,
He’s copied my walk,
And now knows how I talk,
He’s mirrored my hair,
And captured my flare,
He’s worked for my build,
But he isn’t as skilled,
He’s got my posture,
And pulls it off well,
My shoes he has,
That he will never fill,

My identity stolen,
It is time for a change,
Let’s shake things up,
I’ll have a range.

*A German word for any double or look-alike of a person

poem by Michael Moorcroft
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The bus that drives to Vryburg

From Pretoria station
I take a bus that drives to Vryburg
to go and fetch a car.
Cornfields flashes past
and all of the people round me
tells a bit of the things that hurt.

One is going to a funeral because her brother died
and the bus drives on
with the road that stretches out in front of it.
Another is going to her parent’s home
she can find nowhere else to go
and is unmarried and pregnant.
The nearer we get to Vryburg
the more scared she becomes
and the bus drives on.
An Older man has lost his job
and restarts his career in Vryburg.

So everyone of us are caught
our own world with freedom that always stays away
and fate from which everything hangs
and I wonder when everybody in this country
will ever get a Vryburg.

[Vryburg=> The name of a city in the Northern Cape province. Meaning place of freedom or free city.]

poem by Gert Strydom
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Startled Are Those Robbers

Startled are those robbers,
That had came to thieve.
Quite startled are those robbers stunned,
Begging for a forgiveness on bended knees.

And the hiding places,
Where startled robbers had once hid...
Are blocked to stop an entry,
With cracks and crevices from them now sealed.

Startled are those robbers...
Finding no one wants to bother.
No one wants to bother with robbers...
Chased away and startled by the mobs.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Scammers and Business People Attention

Do you think you are smart & everybody else is ignorant?
We can see thru your scam, no matter how you present.
Personally I ask, do not bother me,
You won't get anything out of me even if you are slimy.

Anyway, you do not even read our poem
You have not too much idea of art, which is your problem.
You just want to cheat & lie on who you can,
Make some profit without honest work, that's your plan.

At least we, the poets compliment each other
You do not even bother to study our manner.
You just pick out a face who looks naive,
Hoping she will fall for you & will be submissive.

Do not ask me to invest your money,
Or open a bank account for your stolen whimsy.
If you want to cheat anyone or me,
You'll answer for your deed from Thee.
Get out of my life.

poem by LaSoaphia QuXazs
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Dont Bother Me

Dont come round here looking for my sympathy
Dont come round here looking for my prayers
You spent the eighties in a trance
Yeah you led us all on a merry dance
Now its sad to say that I dont care
You were always advocating power games
You were always gonna be a star
You made your money, had your fun
Made a video bout how its done
Aint put it in my vcr
So far
Dreams fall into disrepair
Theres a change in the air
Your lies
Will lead you to despair
Dont bother me
(castles in the sand slip through your hand)
Dont bother me - I dont give a damn
Dont bother me
(try to understand its in your hand)
Dont bother me
Well no amount of liquor, babe, can drown the blues today
No amount of pills can ease the pain
When the body electric and the vision thing
Is all it takes to make the people sing
Lets hope we dont get fooled again
My friend
Dreams fall into disrepair
Theres a change in the air
Theres a girl who says she cares
And her love
Will leave you standing there
Dont bother me
(I cant change your mind when youre so blind)
Dont bother me - I cant spare the time
Dont bother me
(takes an ocean wide to turn tide)
Dont bother me - love cant be denied
Dont bother me
(castles in the sand slip through your hand)
Dont bother me - I dont give a damn
Dont bother me

song performed by by Level 42
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Christmas Cards

Every christmas card I write
Every christmas card I write
Has been stolen
Has been stolen
Every christmas card I write has been stolen
Every christmas card I write has been stolen
Every christmas card I write has been stolen
Has been stolen
Has been stolen
Every christmas card I write has been stolen
Stolen
Has been stolen
Every christmas card I write
On the little desk in the corner of my room
I find stolen the next day
I find stolen the next day
All of the christmas cards I write
Become stolen the next day
From my room
In my little desk in the corner of my room
Every christmas card I write
Is stolen
Is stolen
Every christmas card I write
Been stolen
From the little desk in the corner of my room
Its been stolen
Every day
Every christmas card I write
Has been stolen from my desk
I dont know why
Its been stolen
Its been stolen
Stolen
Stolen
Stolen
Stolen
Stolen

song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fairy Song

We the fairies blithe and antic,
Of Dimensions not gigantic,
Though the moonshine mostly keep us,
Oft in orchards frisk and peep us,

Stolen sweets are always sweeter;
Stolen kisses much completer;
Stolen looks are nice in chapels;
Stolen, stolen be your apples.

When to bed the world are bobbing,
Then's the time to go orchard robbing;
Yet the fruit were scarce worth peeling
Were it not for stealing, stealing.

poem by Thomas Randolph
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Song of Fairies Robbing an Orchard

We, the Fairies, blithe and antic,
Of dimensions not gigantic,
Though the moonshine mostly keep us,
Oft in orchards frisk and peep us.

Stolen sweets are always sweeter,
Stolen kisses much completer,
Stolen looks are nice in chapels,
Stolen, stolen, be your apples.

When to bed the world are bobbing,
Then's the time for orchard-robbing;
Yet the fruit were scarce worth peeling,
Were it not for stealing, stealing.

poem by James Henry Leigh Hunt
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Stolen

Let truth be told
Until its sold
Silence is golden
Too bad its all been stolen
Stolen! stolen! stolen!
Our defense is your defense
Your defense in some sense
Some sensless way unfolded
Folded cause its all been stolen
Stolen! stolen! stolen!
The gilded scale was burning
Just as your back was turning
Just as our trust was leaving
Youd have us all believing
These truths we hold
Self-evident
Bought and sold
The more you hunt the more I sing
Then quickly rewrite everything
Truth returns bloated, swollen
Then dissapears - its been stolen!
Stolen!
The gilded scale was burning
Just as your back was turning
Just as our trust was leaving
Youd have us all believing
These truths we hold
Self-evident
Bought and sold
Its all been stolen! [x2]

song performed by by Ministry
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Know For Me There's No Benefit

Why did you abandon my love,
And then announce it missing?
Then you called all your friends to tell them,
Not even a glance from me you are getting.
Why do you pretend and lie to your friends.
Why don't you tell them you're the reason we ended.

I know deep inside you have a love for me.
And I know you wish to control what can't be.
You wish to have it your way and that's it.
And I will not take anybody's,
'S' with an 'H' and a 'T'...not me!
Nor to moods or attitudes,
From another will I commit.
Not if I know there's no benefit.

I know deep inside you feel something there,
For me...
To be revealed,
For YOU to see.

Why did you abandon my love,
And then announce it missing?
You wish to have it your way and that's it.
And I will not take anybody's,
'S' with an 'H' and a 'T'...not me!
I'm not into that kind of play.
Not if I know there's no benefit.
Or a connection to my feelings meant.

Why should I bother,
When there is no love in it for me meant.
Why should I bother?
Why should I bother,
And I know for me there's no benefit.
Why should I bother?
Why should I bother,
When there is no love in it for me meant.
Why should I bother?
Why should I bother,
And I know for me there's no benefit.
Why should I bother?
Why should I bother,
When there is no love in it for me meant.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Money

Money high, money low
Money come , money go.
don*t worry me
don*t worry me
(money don*t buy)
The things that we like, the things that we love
The things that we have, so high above
Don*t bother me
(it doesn*t even matter to you)
Don*t bother me
(money doesn*t grow on trees)
Just don*t worry!
Now listen!
Suns do shine, moons do glow
Simplicity everyone knows
Don*t hurry me
(i*m in the middle of a dream)
Don*t hurry me
(it*s not at all the way it seems)
Now!
Money so high, money so low
Money to count, money to go
It won*t be there where I go
(where is that you*re going to? )
It won*t be there where I go
(where is that you*re going to? )
Just won*t be there
No way!
[...screw anything you can... and i*m trying
To do that with the country...]
Do wop...
Da da da...

song performed by by Yes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Money

song performed by by Yes
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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Sentimental Thing

We always were the kind of people
To take it hard when things would go wrong
Little things would bother me
And little things would make you cry
And after all the confrontations
When it comes time for saying goodbye
All that I can wonder
Is what do I do with these flowers
And what do I do with my evenings
And what do you do with that ring
Im gonna go now
No you cant hold me
Not with such a sentimental thing
So tell me why Im feeling nothing
And tell me how you cant even cry
Little things are logical
But if theres a God above then
Can it be that love was
Just another sentimental thing

song performed by by Joe Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Better Than You

Insincerity
Negativity
No Unity
Something's gone wrong
Thinking to myself how smart I am
Because I won't get caught up
In some dick's bad joke.
I'll just walk away
Fight it out yourself
BETTER THAN YOU CREW (x3)
Why even bother?
BETTER THAN YOU CREW (x3)
Why even bother?
I'm smarter cause I joined the crew
And I'm better than those who
Are picking fights
And violating my rights
You can always be the one
To end up on the top
Keep your standards high
Set your goals and never stop
This world of ours is fine and
Our future can be great
If you use our heads not our fists
We can wipe out all the hate
BETTER THAN YOU CREW (x3)
Why even bother?
BETTER THAN YOU CREW (x3)

song performed by by Youth Of Today
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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En.Citatepedia®.ro

Without a car in Pretoria

Related quotes

I am from Pretoria

Did It Rain Heavily Last Night?

You’re in another country called Cape Town

Most of your precious jewels were stolen [1]

Most of your precious jewels were stolen

Doppelgänger

The bus that drives to Vryburg

Startled Are Those Robbers

Scammers and Business People Attention

Dont Bother Me

Christmas Cards

Fairy Song

Song of Fairies Robbing an Orchard

Stolen

I Know For Me There's No Benefit

Money

Money

Six o’clock on a Friday morning

Sentimental Thing

Better Than You

En.Citatepedia^®.ro