0148 Dear Jenny Joseph...
Dear Jenny Joseph,
How are you getting along these days?
Now that you've hit our 'top poems' list?
I'll bet that, as a National Treasure
you're asked to give readings
at a minimal fee
with the request
'please wear a red hat and a purple cloak -
our members would like it...' aw shurrup...
I'm contemplating a parallel
to raise the status of old men
God knows we need it...
Where shall I start?
I guess the secret is
it's fun confounding expectations,
so, first on the list,
anything that labels you British - out!
(then we can start again from scratch) :
out with the stiff upper lip -
weep in public - preferably a full rush-hour commuter train
from Surrey or Gloucestershire
or Berkshire would do;
and watch the men freeze
into emotional ineptitude;
Get on a jam-packed tube train
around the evening rush hour, when they think they're tired,
those poor 20-year-olds who clubbed all night on E
and say very loud
'Which of you young people is going to give up your seat to me?
(And if there's no move
and everyone hides behind their papers or suddenly closed eyes,
repeat the question louder and louder
until even the kind-hearted of your own age
hate you...) :
When the train stops in a tunnel
and everyone goes quiet,
whistle out of tune one that everyone knows;
And don't forget that
garlic and an open mouth
can gain you valuable personal space.
Open doors for all ladies, and expecially those
wearing pierced noses and lips and eyebrows, tattoos,
SM gear and/or short haircuts
and when they walk past without a glance
say 'Thank you...? ' very loudly;
Walk round the snootiest 'boutiques'
and the more the assistants bridle,
stand near you
or raise their eyebrows at their fellow assistants
the longer you hang around, natch,
and when you say 'Just looking...'
look them in the eye
like Clint Eastwood who just hit town;
At formal weddings,
when it gets to the butt-clenching 'just cause...? ' bit
clear your throat loudly
as if about to speak...
it will give the dry cleaners
extra work.
Talk to all children with their parents
especially those whose parents quickly pull them away;
feel free to embrace all and especially sundry;
just check you have the address of your Citizen's Advice Bureau
for free legal representation;
Talk to Friends of Friends whom
you're meeting for the first time
as if you know them well;
it's amazing how many 'friends'
you can cross off that way;
Cold callers
who introduce themselves
with their Christian name
(even though Hindus calling from India..)
and are pushy (be kind to the others...)
- pretend you know them
and discuss some past
scandalous relationship with them,
then accuse them of misleading you;
Be natural - but very very publicly so;
in Victorian times, you could pee in the road
on please, only on the offside of horses;
so don't choose motorways
(though the central reservation is OK - I mean, who's going to stop
to be offended in the fast lane, or ring the police on the mobile while driving?)
and if anyone objects to your peeing in the gutter
that's what gutters used to be for
and who asked them to look anyway?
Clothes-wise, it's up to you -
though of course if 'dress-code..' is requested, well, that's obviously
inviting trouble - do they want to see you in person,
or what you bought or hired?
Or are they wanting free film extras
in the home movies of ego?
Oxfam permitting,
wear the clothes that 15-year-olds do -
that really pisses them off.
If people dropp a word
about your undone zip in public
and they're polite about it
thank them with a smile
perhaps explaining the circumstances
in friendly fashion;
but if they comment disapprovingly
threaten
further measures.
Sitting on the pavement, that sort of thing -
well, that's personal; if you enjoy it, do it...
Above all - Embarrass Your Children. Mortally.
' D-a-a-d....! '
(This Poem is an Expanding Poem -
there's more cringe-making stuff to come just here...
as Rusty says, that's what parents are for...)
Doesn't sound very exciting, you may be thinking?
OK, just try one of these, and see if
you can't cut the atmosphere with a knife.
-That's not yet court evidence, but it could be,
in a nanny state - 'The witness observed
that you could cut the atmosphere with a knife, m'lud...'
But I'm very open to suggestions
from others, to make this
second childhood
even better than the first, OK?
And Jenny, by the way, are you married?
It could be fun...
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Warning
When I am an old woman I shall wear purple
With a red hat which doesn't go, and doesn't suit me.
And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves
And satin sandals, and say we've no money for butter.
I shall sit down on the pavement when I'm tired
And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells
And run my stick along the public railings
And make up for the sobriety of my youth.
I shall go out in my slippers in the rain
And pick flowers in other people's gardens
And learn to spit.
You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat
And eat three pounds of sausages at a go
Or only bread and pickle for a week
And hoard pens and pencils and beermats and things in boxes.
But now we must have clothes that keep us dry
And pay our rent and not swear in the street
And set a good example for the children.
We must have friends to dinner and read the papers.
But maybe I ought to practice a little now?
So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised
When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple.
poem by Jenny Joseph
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Parents Vs Children
Things that i don't understand in this world is that why do some people
get into relationship, getting married, enjoying life and making love.
But when it comes to children or when they already have kids, they
could not accept their responsibilities as parents. They do have
regrets of having kids especially if the kids are naughty, giving problem
or giving them headaches. They always beating, shouting, saying bad words to the kids saying wish you never exist, wish you never been born.
Instead of being calm, giving advice, doing good things which would make their children happy and be proud to have good parents.
Instead of thinking good ideas which would make them close to each other
.
Child is a child, they need more time with their parents. They need
attention, care, and love. Children are curious to everything, they need
to know antyhing as part of growing up. They need the guidance of
parents, but what I see nowadays is different. Parents just give material things to show their love for their kids.
Some parents just go out to parties, shopping, prefer to hang out with their friends rather than their kids. Then they just leave the children
to the nannies/babysitter.
Parents make their children be far from them instead children to get
close to the nannies who always there for them and give the love to the children. Parents must be a role model for the children, but what i see
now is that children do as what their parents do, they become more liberated.
There are also some parents who give up for their children. Some choose their own happiness, they don't like to stay at home with their kids. especially if thier husband dont have time for them too. the tendency, both couple would have a problem that result to divorce.
Where is the love that they shared? where is the promises and vows they had?
poem by Judith Kempis
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When I Was A Child I Believed
When I was a child
a very young child
I looked at the world
of adults in discussion
their patterns of interaction
their comments reactions
a very strange world
differences between what adults said
and what child were told
their masks worn
and I thought about what
they did and why?
Questions were asked
about what you wanted
to be when you grew up?
The work question was important,
but never asked was how well you
would do this work, and for who?
They were often silent or suddenly angry
‘children were to be seen but not heard’
the news to be listened to in serious silence.
First talk repeat their sounds
to smiles laughter
then don’t talk be silent listen?
First stand walk walk how far
then don’t walk stay wait
where your told don’t go away?
When adults met sometimes they would
start to talk a lot fast all at once not one
at a time and laugh a lot talk walk funny?
Why not be on their best behaviour
nice to others as they told children to be?
Why not choose to be good not bad?
Years later I would smile a lot why not
it costs nothing to smile and often others.
Would catch your smile and smile also?
Even when sad smiling was a good thing to do
to appreciate all you have been given.
Even though you could not always play with
what was given or go outside or play with friends.
Especially on those boring rainy days.
So many games were not allowed if you got dirty?
As a teenager smilie would be a nick name.
That smile given freely to people who needed
to smile but chose to be miserable instead!
It never cost anything to be nice to people either!
To give to help had its own record, it felt good!
Happy people are the nice people to be around!
I believed happiness was the most precious gift,
a person could give another, and if sad then to give,
happiness you did not have; was even more important.
Once in my early twenties I was surprised,
a friend said you cannot be that good,
no one is that good, but I knew I was not good.
At twenty-two when about to travel overseas,
my uncle said you think everyone is your friend,
be careful, everyone you meet; is not your friend.
Now I am older and sadly wiser,
yet I still know that to treat a stranger,
as a friend not a treat is still better.
That to say hello with a smile,
and wish people well,
is still a wonderful thing to do.
I still believe it is a better thing to do.
And when kindness is meet with hostility?
I feel pity for the hurt who choose to hurt.
It is not the right way.
It is not God’s way.
It is still not my way.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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D e a t h
Well we don’t know do we?
You asked me to write something
about it and I said,
I have nothing to say…
maybe that’s a better place to start.
So should we keep a curtained silence
about it? Stuff cottonwool in that wound
that never quite heals, once made?
Or run down the street, knocking bang bang at all the doors,
shouting tell me about death… and
before that stranger knocks at your own door
and the face is strangely familiar, as if
you’ve been expecting someone, but
weren’t sure what they’d look like…
One thing is certain, in its breezy way:
you’ll be the one who knows least about it
when it happens; but hopefully
the one who knows most about it
after it’s happened…
We could be rather Irish about it,
say, it’s a crying pity you’ll be missing
the wake… but look at it this way,
the funeral won’t cost you a penny…
I’m told that the other day,
a friend of a friend said
whoopee I’m going on holiday…
I guess that would have made for
a rather merrier funeral
as we say now, no dear not a funeral,
a celebration of her life…
but there’s still that moment
of awful mediocrity, when
the coffin begins to move, and it’s half,
this is it, and half, we’re doing this
with discreet good taste, so
you don’t have to notice it… ha…
Then, some like to know beforehand what
they hope just might be known,
visit comfy mediums to ask about
those loved ones who’ve just passed over, is it, dear? …
they make it sound like a well-run care home:
it’s really very nice here, you’ll like it…
they sound as if they’re still wearing
the woollie that you knitted, and it’s tea cups chinking
and a chat about old times.
For the truly religious, of course,
it’s glory day, and so it should:
they’ve made the will, cleaned the house,
given away all that they’ve collected over the years,
said goodbyes; mopped all the tears;
the bags are packed and waiting in the hall,
their conscience clear. This is the moment
when what it’s all about, is what it’s all about..
envy them – their soul is clean, shriven was the old word for it,
their lifetime has been but a preparation,
a walk from one pure spring of grace
to a glorious river full of grace..
so here’s a suggestion: in your mind,
bring together all you’ve loved in all your life –
teddy bear, dolls, kittens, puppies, horses,
maybe even parents… best friends, lovers,
strangers who were unexpectedly kind to you,
friends you hope you’ll never lose,
places that you were forever happy in,
times of happiness that you’ll never forget,
and those strange moments when
you knew you knew something just so great,
but didn’t know exactly what it was you knew…
those moments when time stood still, and
didn't seem to matter any more, because
the where and when that you were in, was forever..
then add to this, all you’ve been, should be
grateful for; all the things you would have praised
more loudly; everyone, but everyone, you love; see
the world as full of wonders unexplained;
see glory everywhere, and yourself
the centre of all that…
stay there.. then what is Death – apart
from what will surely be – compared
to all that glory which is your true self…
go on, admit it… me, I see it shine in you…
what shines in your eternally young eyes
is something that can never die…
Maybe we’ll talk of this some more,
now that we’ve tried to talk about it…
you asked me; this is the best that I can do;
you asked me; this, with all my love, for you..
[A poem written by request]
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Quiet Zone
When travelling on a train, in the ‘Quiet Zone, ’
Why do people have to use their mobile phones?
Above the train’s rumble, they need to be heard,
So they speak very loud, so you hear every word.
On the window, there’s a picture of a phone, with a cross,
But, on some people, this request, to be quiet, is just lost.
They continue to talk on their phones, despite the sign,
And they seem to think that this behaviour is just fine.
People also sit with their earplugs plugged in;
Their music, loud, so you can still hear the din.
You can hear the annoying, tinny sounding beat.
The object of such a zone, such actions defeat.
The train staff can’t watch every passenger there,
But, this disturbance, to others, doesn’t seem fair.
If you’re sitting there, quietly, attempting to read,
With such interruptions, you will fail to succeed.
But, passengers, nowadays, are too scared to moan:
To point out that, this is, indeed, the ‘Quiet Zone.’
They worry that their reminder may be used as an excuse,
For the other person, to turn round and, at them, hurl abuse.
Passengers should show one another more consideration.
In the ‘Quiet Zone’, there shouldn’t be loud communication.
It’s a designated place for those who want to sit and relax;
Not speak loudly or turn their iPod volume up to the max.
poem by Angela Wybrow
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Screw all those Facebook groups, heres everything I hate and love in one list.
I hate when you climb so far up, and the smallest mistake has you falling to your death. Again.
I hate when the who person means s*** to you makes you cry.
I hate when your happy and your best friends sad, and you sad and your best friends happy.
I hate watching people cry over some stupid b****.
I hate when you miss the sunrise.
I hate when the person you love ignores you.
I hate when it comes to the point that you don't even feel like explaining why your sad anymore.
I hate when your tinniest wishes don't come true.
I hate watching my friends go through the same pain as me.
I hate making the same mistake twice.
I hate insults.
I hate people who pick on one kid who never did anything, when they should be picking on each other.
I hate when the a**hole gets away with it.
I hate how I cry whenever I'm trying to say something important.
I hate when someone pity's you.
I hate when people flip out over stupid stuff.
I hate when girls cause drama just cause.
I hate when people fight.
I hate when you lose the one you love.
I hate when you regret doing something really big.
I hate when I'm mean to people.
I hate when people are mean to me.
I hate feeling alone....all the freaking time.
I hate when your parents are disappointed in you.
I hate my life.
But I love laughing with my friends till my tummy hurts.
I love watching home videos with everyone.
I love taking a walk right after it rains.
I love seeing that innocent look in an animals eyes.
I love the rush of being at a concert.
I love having a moment with a complete stranger in the hallway.
I love those times when the person you love is looking into your eyes and you look back.
I love making people smile.
I love those moments when your not really sure why, but your so unbelievably content with who you are.
I may hate MY life, but I love life.
poem by Gabriella Mantone
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Fast Train
Transcribed from a live performance on february 26, 2000 at the barbican in york, england. the first performance of this new song.
When you been on a fast train
And its goin off the rails
And you cant come back together again
You just start breakin down
In the pourin rain
Cause you been on a fast train
When your love has gone away
Dont it make you feel so sad
And you know Im returnin
Way into the land
And you start breakin down
And go into the pain
Cause you been on the fast train
You had to go on the lam
Cross into no mans land
Aint nobody here on your wavelength
And nobody gonna give you a helpin hand
You just start breakin down
And just go into the sun
When you hear that fast train
And you keep movin along
To the sound of the wheels
Deep inside your heart you really know
You know just how it feels
And you start breakin down
And the deserts reign on the fast train
Youre way over the line
This time youre out of your mind
This time youre out of your depth
And to the window you crack open
Oh but theres nowhere to go
Theres only sleet and theres snow
Keep on movin on a fast train
You hear theyre goin over the line
Oh standin on the edge of the hill
Oh nobody on their wavelength
Nobody to give you a helping hand
And you start breakin down
When you hear the sound
Keep on movin on a fast train
Im goin nowhere on a fast train
Goin nowhere
Goin nowhere on a fast train
Goin nowhere on a fast train
Fast train
Going nowhere
Goin nowhere on a fast train
To the wasteland
To the wasteland
On a fast train
On a fast train
On a fast train
Im goin nowhere
Im goin nowhere on a fast train
Goin nowhere
On a fast train
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A little home
It is home, sweet home that counts on and matters
In my sound sleep also sometimes I utter
I long for those atmosphere and beautiful walls
Some type of magnetic pull that always gives call
All sweet and bad memories are deeply attached
Not for a moment it takes us away and keep detached
Birth place, childhood and youth very happily spent
Protection under kind parents and happy moments
I will never forget the place which helped to build?
Kind love, affection and impregnable protective shield
So much influence form all over and everything to yield
Fresh air, lovely atmosphere and free games in open field
You long for your own home when gain maturity
It goes on in succession with continuity
You have your home with kids and beautiful wife
Days are passing off very smoothly in life
The end of universe is your dear home
You may not find beautiful city like Rome
But home is called home and has no parallel
When you reach at home you feel so well
You may get tired while working at sites
It may compel you to work and more wishes to ignite
You are lifeless when returned home at night
Your mind is not at rest and continues to fight
When you reach home and find everything alright
You may be able to think what is wrong or right
You may find all comforts at home when reach
You may feel at the top of the world and rich
You may have to work hard for your livelihood
You too may have to care for your neighborhood
Home is where you get all comforts and joy
You will have to make it heaven and completely enjoy
No where on earth you will feel at ease
Tension and worries altogether may cease
Morning sun may brighten your hope
Yu may be well prepared to walk on rope
All individual dream of happy home to take refuge
You can have easy access, free entry and no one can refuse
It is for us to make it worth while and suitable
No other place can make us happy or comfortable
I shall pray for suitable house with complete peace
Where I can hang on for all times to come at ease
It is place to seek solace and new energy release
Opening of new relation and not try it to freeze
Home has remained a holy place
Nobody every could replace
It is complete reality
Go for it and improve the quality
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Why Friends?
Why Friends?
They say friends should be few but good.
I say friendship is better than brotherhood.
We used to see them too often at school.
They used to make us happy and cool.
We used to play together a lot of times,
And we would sing our childish rhymes.
We would also stand together or fall.
They were the first people to recall.
We grew up to be men or women,
But inside, these memories are hidden.
Every time we need someone to talk to,
We find them there for us and give help, too.
They say a friend to all is false to all,
I agree and stick to this golden rule.
We can be friends to one, two or three,
But more than this we can't be free.
Yet we can be friendly to everyone,
But not friends with everyone.
Friendly is to give people a fair deal,
But friends means to love and feel.
To give and take as much as you can,
To put them before us if we can.
True friends are a real treasure,
Whose value goes beyond measure.
But remember to decrease their number,
Or else they put you in real danger.
24/4/2009
poem by Omar Jabak
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Adoption
(01/11/12)
So many children are waiting in the wings
For being adopted is their thing.
Afraid to make plans for they don’t know
What lies ahead - their future is something
That they do dread.
Some move from home to home and never
Finding where they belong.
Many were abandoned and left on the street
With just their clothes on their backs and no food to eat.
Some were newborns left at police stations
Fire stations, and at church doors
Never to see their parents any more.
They have dreams like so many others
But they would prefer to have parents
And a sister or brother.
A person that they could say that- this is my mom
And this is my dad and I’m proud and awfully glad.
That I have parents as so many other children do
And knowing what it is to be loved like you.
We are all adoptable if given a chance
Look in our hearts and you’ll understand.
We don’t know why we was abandoned
Or what we had done wrong, but with
Parents is where we belong.
I’ll wipe away my tears so that you could see
The love and pain that’s inside of me.
If you can’t have children or have a kind heart
Then adoption is where you can start.
ADOPT
poem by Louis Rams
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Good Advice
Open the window I need some air
So many people and theres such disorder here
Familiar faces found out lies
Turn to the street now I watch the passers by
I wonder what they recognize
And what theyd recommend to fill my days
Possessions start to wear me down
I need some good advice some good advice to wear me down
Im nervous can you help me
Im nervous can you help me
Im nervous can you help me
Im nervous can you help me
Instead they harbor secret thoughts
They break through windows that have twice been locked
I have to walk to wear me out
I need some good advice some good advice to wear me down
Im nervous can you help me
Im nervous can you help me
Im nervous can you help me
Im nervous can you help me
I throw my arms and pray to leave
I gotta head for love like is inside me
My lips press tight so not to drown
I need some good advice some good advice to wear me down
Im nervous can you help me
Im nervous can you help me
Im nervous can you help me
Im nervous can you help me
Give me some good advice to help me along
If I know its true
Give me some good advice to help me along
If I know its true
Give me some good advice to help me along
If I know its true
Im nervous
Give me some good advice to wear me down
song performed by by Texas
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Who Must Take Care of Old-aged Parents?
Which child will care for parents when old-aged?
Which child will show compassion and respect?
Which child will find the time to talk kind words?
Which child reciprocates their affection?
Gone are the days of joint family system!
Gone is the sense of values in people!
Gone are the times when blood was quite thicker!
Gone with the wind is honouring parents!
Have parents not showered love on children?
Have they not slogged to give them life's comforts?
Have they not nursed them whenev'r they fell ill?
Have they not done their duties to their kids?
The world today is selfish to the core;
Children just want the wealth of parents old;
None volunteer to tend to old parents;
Children show scarce love to their parents dear!
What has then come upon children today?
Who should take care of parents, elderly?
Should not one's children take care of parents?
Much love seems lost in families these days!
poem by John Celes
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Dream palace
Let there be dream palace to live in
no restriction and to feel free in
not as isolated ward or sultry palace
all my angels come in with open face
I wish it to open for general public
There is some reason and logic
How many secrets and stories behind?
People have remained unknown or simply blind
Only kings and queens spent happy days
Had their own luxurious time and different ways
I too wish it for all my fairies of the tales
Come with open wings and very good smiles
I will wish it to happen in child stage
Where no one may mind my little age
I shall make laugh free and very loud
The clouds may go away with big sound
Rain may dropp few light showers
Garden may witness new flowers
Nature may sprang good surprise
I will enjoy it as very good prize
Toys of all kinds may stand scattered
I shall watch them without words being uttered
I shall prefer silence and do not disturb
Their arrangement and offer no curb
How much excitement in small eyes?
No more question with so many whys
I shall watch them depart and silently come
Always with wide open arms and welcome
I consider this age free from blame
I may pray for it and often claim
Let it happen in full knowledge of brain
And store it in memory as and when came
I wish to lie down on ground
Along with toys around and to be found
Some to be intact and some to be broken
But I can understand what they have spoken
I want my parents to watch from the distance
It may frighten my angels at once
They may leave me in haste
I wish them to remain my friends as best
I can see the immense love
When they come here and finally drove
I shall miss them once for all
Even when they depart at final call
They may not come at all and stay
As my age is driving me away
I may get some sense of growth
Not to be called child or as youth
Leave me not behind for only age
I may miss it as having been put in cage
I shall be hunted for pretty consideration
I won’t be able to answer for any of the questions
I wish them to happen again an again
Let moon may not offer any rain
I have yet to learn and gain
When they will come finally in
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Hall Of Doors
You walk through the hall of doors
With life in sight with death in mind
You watch people open their doors
And you think of how the doors and fate bind
You watch waiting to see your exit
As you see others turn down their path to their end
You know that the paths can not change
You know even with time fate shall not mend
Down the hall you walk
Doors lining each side
Every person holds the key to one of those locks
All around you people stride
Doors open
As people come to their door mats
You walk by doors just hoping,
hoping the next isn't yours, isn't your mat
You watch parents and children leaving eachothers sides
You see love being torn, hate being sewn
as the doors open wide
Some people leave together, some alone
You wait to see your door, your fate
You watch to see which door your key fits
You watch to see if your heart is with love or hate
You watch untill you find the mat at which you shall sit
You walk through the hall of doors
With life in sight, death in mind
You watch as people open their doors
You wait to see which door your fate lays behind.
poem by Bethany Maxwell
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Slow Down
you see yourself sitting on top
so self assured - happy,
but when your parents bail you out
you somehow feel not free.
you're bored to tears in school,
it's not like what you thought at all.
trouble is not the answer.
i know what you want to know:
slow down;
why you wanna move so fast?
why you wanna walk so far?
i think i know what you want.
your father toys with you
hoping his evil game will win.
in order not to loose,
the trick is not to play with him.
anything good you do
is added to your past - your wealth.
you'll need it all the day you finally choose
to ask yourself:
slow down;
why you wanna move so fast?
why you wanna walk so far?
wait and find out who you are
and how you're gonna make it last.
something's gonna change,
now re-spell your name.
tired of highs and lows,
now derail your train.
and if this letter finds you lost
and out of touch - lonely,
i hope you know by now
you mean so very much to me.
song performed by by Nada Surf
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Am The Fat Girl
I am the Fat Girl
the one that everyone hates,
holds in contempt
makes fun of
the one who has Jenny Craig dreams of being thin;
who learns to hate her self
because of cupcakes;
who can walk pass ice cream
and gain five pounds
whose parents are thin
while telling me I just have to watch my calories
I am the one who is mean
and retaliates
by spreading rumors
that the pretty girls are lesbian
or whores
or that they take drugs.
That is me;
the last chosen in gym class for the team
The object of fat jokes;
The one who is watched in the cafeteria
to see what I am eating
who has to sit and see the small girls
eat whatever they want
who has to declare that she doesn't like chocolate
the one who can never go to the beach
to pool parties
never find clothes that fit;
wearing sheets;
who can't neck with thin boys
who can never touch down there
because I hate myself so
who has to watch TV after TV show
which show
that
fat people are the most hated people in the world
and contemptible;
no one ever says anything good about the 'fatties'
they make fun of you to your face
or speak with patronizing sentences
or offer dieting tips
and false statements of support.
Even your thin parents think you eat too much
will never get married
and secretly give up on you.
If the parents are fat like you
they don't want to go out anywhere
because fat drawns attention
to them
at the movies.
In the restaurant;
Fat is bad
You are told horror stories:
that you will get diabetes
that you will die of heart failure
that your babies will have complications
that you really are worthless
and might as well die.
That is fat.
And worse
no one understands
or even want to understand;
fat is the new leper
repulsive
even as they smile
In your face
while secretly believing
that it is all your fault
and it never stops.
I see the women over forty
crazied over their fat arms
their weight gains
their cottage cheese thighs.
Some of their will
finally understand fat.
I got a boyfriend after college
from Asia where fat is beautiful
yes fat is beautiful
in many parts of the world,
a sign of wealth
but he was a woman beater
and I had to walk away from the relationship
marrying my present husband
who is fatter than I am.
Now we go to the ice cream store
suck the ice-cream cones
our fingers
licking Dorito dust
both of us
having given up
Thanks everyone;
fat it seems
is
forever.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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From young stage to death
I remember I remember
I remember I remember
I remember, when I was young
My friends and I have no problems
We used to go to the grazing
Grazing by the river side
We played very nice there
There were no parents to cause discrimination among us
There were no difference between a girl and a boy
We were as together as a river family
Tissues of lies were being spoken out there
Singing very nice
Talking about our favorite movies
It was A December time brake baby and the schools were closed
It was very nice to show off what we learn from our diversified schools
No problems just like I told you
Short battles hear and there
School re-opening
Tears role
They role when you live you truly friends
You cannot stop to miss those lovely tiny voices from the bushes
But let me tell you baby you don’t know
You don’t know what does ouderdom brings to you
Yours truly, friends are no longer your truly friends
There are now different subculture to grow among them
Some of them are smokers and you don’t smoke
Some of them have girlfriend and you are afraid of HIV
Some of them are poor and you are rich, and vice versa
Some of them are jealousy and you are not
Some of them have seen something or they have told that you are something that you are not
That is how painful to be an adult person
I am very old baby I am very old
I have come to the stage where I am going to need the aid of my grandchilds
I have done all just to make them live that sound life
I have tob start to beg on them Baby I have to beg.
I have to wait for some month just for on e request on them
They will tell me that Ouma and Oupa live at hoe I don’t think that debate will need you
Hello my little child
You take me for granted
You don’t allow me to give you some advices
You think that all that I am saying is tale because I am coming from the past family
Hey: listen to me: Go to your own desired youth subculture
And remember one thing or advice from me
These are my poor hands and eyes
These eyes have survived for 95 years sever little dangers across forest
I don’t know about your 15 -36 year’s lives because I am born in the past
But the fact is – you cannot make something from nothing
If you are to survive these lives you need my mature advices
What a lovely adolescent subculture the youth of today are playing out with our parent
Congratulations, we shall see you in you 50 years time
poem by Mthokozisi Ntokozo Maphumulo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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What Am I Doing Hangin' 'Round
Just a loud mouth yankee i went down to mexico.
I didn't have much time to spend, about a week or so.
There i lightly took advantage of a girl who loved me so.
But i found myself a-thinkin' when the time had come to go...
Chorus:
What am i doin' hangin' round?
I should be on that train and gone.
I should be ridin' on that train to san antone,
What am i doin' hangin' round?
She took me to the garden just for a little walk.
I didn't know much spanish and there was no time for talk.
Then she told me that she loved me not with words but with a kiss.
And like a fool i kept on thinkin' of a train i could not miss...
Chorus
Well it's been a year or so, and i want to go back again.
And if i get the money, well i'll ride the same old train.
But i guess your chances come but once and boy i sure missed mine.
And still i can't stop thinkin' when i hear some whistle cryin'....
Chorus (repeat)
song performed by by Monkees
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What Am I Doin Hangin Round?
Just a loud mouth yankee I went down to mexico.
I didnt have much time to spend, about a week or so.
There I lightly took advantage of a girl who loved me so.
But I found myself a-thinkin when the time had come to go...
Chorus:
What am I doin hangin round?
I should be on that train and gone.
I should be ridin on that train to san antone,
What am I doin hangin round?
She took me to the garden just for a little walk.
I didnt know much spanish and there was no time for talk.
Then she told me that she loved me not with words but with a kiss.
And like a fool I kept on thinkin of a train I could not miss...
Chorus
Well its been a year or so, and I want to go back again.
And if I get the money, well Ill ride the same old train.
But I guess your chances come but once and boy I sure missed mine.
And still I cant stop thinkin when I hear some whistle cryin....
Chorus (repeat)
song performed by by Monkees
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Every Aspect Of It!
Just because you do not see me driving,
Do not assume I am not licensed to drive.
Or that I do not 'think'...
Because I do not look the part.
You don't see half the things I do and have done.
Nor are you on my agenda.
And folks who focus their sights on others...
Are the first who find these times we live,
Difficult to adjust.
Even though they feel they 'must'...
Demand understanding,
Without participating in the development of it.
You know the kind...?
The ears closed, mouth open types!
With claims they don't know what is going on!
And rush they do to prevent,
The circumstances of truth.
Coming to bombard and overwhelm.
With the consequences of their ignorance.
You know the kind...?
The ears closed, mouth open types!
Yet conflict they are quick to define...
Instead of using their minds to take time,
Comprehending remedies.
To set aside a strategy...
To stop the havoc that has begun,
Happening in their own lives.
You know the kind...?
The ears closed, mouth open types!
And this kind of mindset today,
Is reflected on a massive scale.
People into minding the business of others...
Have found their business in shambles.
Every aspect of it!
With shock and disbelief,
As a return for their 'investment'!
You know the kind...?
The ears closed, mouth open types!
The ones who rush to cover their butts,
With implusive mindless decisions!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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