I'm Just a Lost Baboon
I'm just a lost baboon,
In a zoo of monkeys.
I view the other animals encaged.
Some outraged with their manes,
Needing to be done.
I don't wish to be a leopard.
Or a tiger to make a hole in one.
Or a gazelle doing my version of a kangaroo!
To say I can also do a giraffe to startle everyone.
If I elected to!
I don't wish for brains like an elephant.
To have my tusk use for someone to play...
'We Are The World' on a piano.
To hear the laugh of hyenas...
Doing their best to sing in tune!
I'm just a lost baboon.
Not a drifting buffalo.
Nor do I wish to croon melodies with vultures.
And...
I roam this zoo looking for something to do!
Not caring who knows.
Until I find someone who declares...
'Hey you,
I am a baboon too!
Are you from South, East or West Africa? '
No...
I will respond.
Unfortunately not!
I was adopted very young.
And my heritage I forgot.
I've been educated to think!
And not look at myself baboonish!
And that has been a curse...
Thrusted upon me.
With memories I can not drop!
But I can hip hop and cha cha...
Although my rhythm is off.
And I can appear quite foolish!
I'm just a lost baboon
In a zoo of monkeys.
I view the other animals encaged.
Some outraged with their manes,
Needing to be done.
And I wear my dreads to be connected.
While others seem to have...
Not a trace of identity I can see.
And that to me...really stuns!
Weaves on heads.
With greasy curls and waves,
Paraded by everyone.
And bald heads too?
What is that all about?
Are they feeding an enslavement?
To enhance an acceptance...
Of an expressed freedom discussed,
But long tossed out! ?
I'm just a lost baboon...
Intellectualizing my gloom!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Related quotes
The Ape, the Monkey, and Baboon
The ape, the monkey and baboon did meet,
And breaking of their fast in Friday street,
Two of them swore together solemnly
In their three natures was a sympathy.
Nay, quoth baboon,
I do deny that strain:
I have more knavery in me
than you twain.
Why, quoth the ape, I have a horse at will
In Paris Garden for to ride on still,
And there show tricks. Tush, quoth the monkey,
For better tricks in great men's houses lie.
Tush, quoth baboon,
when men do know I come,
For sport from city, country
they will run.
poem by Thomas Weelkes
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There’s a male baboon loose in town
There’s a male baboon loose in town
walking on its hands and feet
opening all the rubbish bins in town
where eagerly it looks for any food
and it’s easier for him than the bush,
while cursing he talks to the dogs.
There’s a male baboon loose in town
walking on its hands and feet
stripping everything that it finds
and as an outcast it did desert,
he scratches between rubbish, old papers and mail,
trying to baptize himself in the sewerage,
there’s a male baboon loose in town
walking on its hands and feet.
poem by Gert Strydom
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No!
Then they are bunch of Mzee,
But now, they have piece into sleaze.
They believe we are
Distopped by curaco
That is narcotic us
No!
You the baboon
The baboon
Who feeds in boon
Who misuses his boon
And bomb the boon
They believe they can Build something no nothin'
Rude rain of pain
No!
Not under the sun.
They are jocular,
But speak in oracular
They are living in humid
And they they left the small fry in arid.
No!
Will shall fight with the breath
Because they are arch enemy to us
But show in angel in face.
poem by Ejalonibu Abraham
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Long-Left Wide Step
Failed to find meaning in my
immediate surrounds; 1-2-3,
a-1-2-3, I went down the street,
usual music not speaking to me
Thought of my dad, cowboy hat on
his head, playing his music - Chris
Blignaut singing the song of a hapless
baboon, a bully-beef can with ants
His wireless for greeting his tribe, no tax
to pay, he sings - the can's too tight, his
face is stuck, the ants bite him, the baboon
goes mad - we stared with shiny eyes
As the chaos was described - and I sing
along with the song as I long-left wide
step 1-2-3- down the street, happy in
a cloud of memory - the beauty
Not intrinsic in the melody, but in the special
quality of nostalgic song - the soft golden light
enclosing times past…
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Dreams of Africa
There are days I dream of Africa
and my life as a child there
where running through the wild bush
was a joy beyond compare
Never a thought was given
to the animals who may be close
I loved them all and a big baboon
was one that I loved most
I travelled to the great Zimbabwe ruins
and walked within their walls
Thinking how it must have been
for people who were tall
I've stood in the rainforest's at Victoria Falls
one of the most magnificent sites to see
And the memory still makes me sad
for what has come to be
Bodies dead and suffering
murders cruel and wrong
people starving from prices so high
all sing the freedom song
Yes I miss good old Rhodesia
and Africa as a child
I miss seeing nature at it's best
free to roam the wild
I pray that one day very soon
life will start to come good
and God will shine his precious light
the way I know he should
poem by Janice M Pickett
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If you flog a baboon because it is ugly, you will end up killing it.
The rope that hangs a monkey, hangs a baboon as well.
The Occasion of the Law Suit. chapter I
I need not tell you of the great quarrels that have happened in our
neighbourhood since the death of the late Lord Strutt; how the
parson and a cunning attorney got him to settle his estate upon
his cousin Philip Baboon, to the great disappointment of his cousin
Esquire South. Some stick not to say that the parson and the
attorney forged a will; for which they were well paid by the family
of the Baboons. Let that be as it will, it is matter of fact that
the honour and estate have continued ever since in the person of
Philip Baboon.
Late King of Spain.
* Cardinal Portocarero.
You know that the Lord Strutts have for many years been possessed of
a very great landed estate, well conditioned, wooded, watered, with
coal, salt, tin, copper, iron, etc., all within themselves; that it
has been the misfortune of that family to be the property of their
stewards, tradesmen, and inferior servants, which has brought great
incumbrances upon them; at the same time, their not abating of their
expensive way of living has forced them to mortgage their best
manors. It is credibly reported that the butcher's and baker's bill
of a Lord Strutt that lived two hundred years ago are not yet paid.
When Philip Baboon came first to the possession of the Lord Strutt's
estate, his tradesmen, as is usual upon such occasions, waited upon
him to wish him joy and bespeak his custom. The two chief were John
Bull,* the clothier, and Nic. Frog, * the linendraper. They told
him that the Bulls and Frogs had served the Lord Strutts with
draperyware for many years; that they were honest and fair dealers;
that their bills had never been questioned; that the Lord Strutts
lived generously, and never used to dirty their fingers with pen,
ink, and counters; that his lordship might depend upon their honesty
that they would use him as kindly as they had done his predecessors.
The young lord seemed to take all in good part, and dismissed them
with a deal of seeming content, assuring them he did not intend to
change any of the honourable maxims of his predecessors.
The first letters of congratulation from King William and the
States of Holland upon King Philip's accession to the crown of
Spain.
* The English.
** The Dutch.
poem by John Arbuthnot
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More Fun Than A Barrel Of Monkeys
there are multiple questions pertaining to the concept,
'more fun than a barrel of monkeys.'
how big is the barrel?
how many monkeys are we talking about?
how big are the monkeys? Are we talking spider monkeys, chimps, baboons or what?
Are the monkeys old or young and where's the barrel, inside or outside?
If you leave the monkeys in the barrel, you got a problem:
they'll die in their own excrement,
if you lift the lid and let them out,
they might kill you.
a monkey can rip out your eyes, is that fun?
monkeys, leaping and running around the house, can do a lot of damage, is that fun?
monkeys are dirty, so... what exactly do you consider fun?
what's it going to be like trying to get the monkeys back in the barrel?
would that be fun?
what would the neighbors think of you, if you released the monkeys into their yards?
what happens if the police gets involved?
it could mean everything imaginable is more fun than a barrel of these animals.
maybe even more fun than a barrel of human beings.
poem by Richard Jarboe
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Lost and Alone
Lost without love
Lost without family
Lost without friends
Lost without anyone
Lost without memories
Lost without thoughts
Lost without caring
Lost without a heart
Lost without a soul
Lost without feelings
Lost without dreams
Lost without life
Lost without the world
Lost without earth
Lost in my mind
Alone with the devil
Alone to burn in hell
Alone to be remembered
Alone on an island
Alone to be myself
Alone to love myself
Alone to love no one
Alone on earth
Alone in life
Alone with no thoughts
Alone with no love
Alone with no one
Alone with no memories
Alone to think
Alone to know oneself
Alone to find me
poem by Marilee Morley
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Lost To Find My Lot
Lost in a world, that scares me to death,
Lost in a crowd I’m losing my breath,
Lost as a kid, lost as an adult
I feel everything is falling apart and its my fault
Lost as a person, cant find my way
Lost in life every day, Lost in worry
Who am I?
I’ve lived a Lie
Lost to Kindness,
Lost to Love
Lost in the sky,
Like a lonely dove
Lost in thought which I shouldn’t do
It Winds me up,
I can’t get through
Lost to comfort all kind words
Lost to advice that isn’t heard
Lost to those who really care?
All these people always there
Lost in Me, I need a break
Lost in wonder which road should I take?
Lost in a place I don’t know well
Where are you now? There’s no one to tell
Lost here all alone To break these walls
Lost in mind
Lost in soul
Lost memories, there just a hole
Lost family, lost my place
Still yet I’m full of hate
Lost in boredom think I’ll leave
There’s a lot in life I need to achieve
poem by Olivia Braun
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(Hate Poems) Hate Speech Bafflement
If I sing the killer the farmer
Tune of my liberation is that hate speech?
If the white people sing the kill
The baboon kindergarten lullaby of their
Race hatred is that hate speech?
Your terrorist is my hero
It is an exercise in futility
And no judge can censor what the people
Want to sing
If the people want those who kill
White widows on the the farms
To face the gallows listen to their outcry
If the people want to subject the crass
Racists who racially abuse them let the fools
Taste the law of the jungle of the people
poem by Ngaka Motaung
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If the press really thinks Obama is Lincoln, they ought to treat him like they treated Bush, 'cause that's how they treated Lincoln. His critics compared Lincoln to an ape; they called him an illiterate baboon.
quote by Ann Coulter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lost in Memories
I am lost in this world
I am lost with this fear
I am lost with no sounds
I am lost with out you here
I am lost with out your touch
I am lost with out feelings
I am lost with no lights
I have lost all my senses
I have lost my mind
I have lost every thing in just one night
I have lost my voice and my sight
I may have lost every thing that I hold dear
But I have not lost the memories we shared
poem by Jenna Kelley
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Rhythm Of Life
You say youll get over
It
But I know you better
Your feelings have been hurt a bit
And you just cant forget her
Youll want her back by tomorrow
But she wont remember your name
You better
Get lost in the rhythm
Get lost in the rhythm of life
Get lost in the rhythm
Get lost in the rhythm of life
You cant seem to step around
Lifes cracks in the sidewalk
You wanna live in the fast lane
But you wont be the driver
You could be waiting a lifetime
Before you make up your mind
You gotta
Get lost in the rhythm
Get lost in the rhythm of life
Get lost in the rhythm
Get lost in the rhythm of life
You say that my soul is lost
And that youre my savior
Youll do anything at any cost
To reform my behavior
Didnt I make it this far
By making up my own mind
You gotta
Get lost in the rhythm
Get lost in the rhythm of life
Chorus out
song performed by by Richard Marx
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Love kept her for a teacup
Love kept her for a teacup close to his lips
With both hands trembling on her hips
Her eyes they too were so love-in
That he pulled away at her silk napkin
She held him like he were a teaspoon
But he felt just like a great big baboon
His kisses were like rose water honey
Their bodies crumpled like a Dali oil limply…
poem by Mark Heathcote
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Out Of The Depths
Lost! Lost! Lost!
The cry went up from a sea --
The waves were wild with an awful wrath,
Not a light shone down on the lone ship's path;
The clouds hung low:
Lost! Lost! Lost!
Rose wild from the hearts of the tempest-tossed.
Lost! Lost! Lost!
The cry floated over the waves --
Far over the pitiless waves;
It smote on the dark and it rended the clouds;
The billows below them were weaving white shrouds
Out of the foam of the surge,
And the wind-voices chanted a dirge:
Lost! Lost! Lost!
Wailed wilder the lips of the tempest-tossed.
Lost! Lost! Lost!
Not the sign of a hope was nigh,
In the sea, in the air, or the sky;
And the lifted faces were wan and white,
There was nothing without them but storm and night
And nothing within but fear.
But far to a Father's ear:
Lost! Lost! Lost!
Floated the wail of the tempest-tossed.
Lost! Lost! Lost!
Out of the depths of the sea --
Out of the night and the sea;
And the waves and the winds of the storm were hushed,
And the sky with the gleams of the stars was flushed.
Saved! Saved! Saved!
And a calm and a joyous cry
Floated up through the starry sky,
In the dark -- in the storm -- 'Our Father' is nigh.
poem by Abram Joseph Ryan
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Little Roland Lost
Im lost, Im lost, find me
Im lost, Im lost, find me
He wondered too far now
He is lost and lonely
Little roland all alone
Cause he cant find his way
Wish I was home in the arms of my mom
Shes the one to protect me
But here I am in the woods by myself
Wont somebody find me
Im lost, Im lost, find me
Im lost, Im lost, find me
I see a path maybe this is the way
That leads to safety
No just a dead end leading to nowhere
Wont somebody find me
Im lost, Im lost, find me
Im lost, Im lost, find me
Little roland see your field eyes
Little legs running wildly
Comes the night, strange noises
Guess hes lost forever
Im lost, Im lost, find me
Im lost, Im lost, find me
song performed by by Rick Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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