"neighbourhood" poems
remember when we were carefree
and nothing used to worry me
the neighbourhood was my kingdom
and the front yard was my palace
we used to play pretend
worlds of magic and fantasy
we made up spells and slayed dragons
but now i’m fighting my mind’s demons
ignorance was b l i s s
when did we become like this?
Jun 21, 2019
Jun 21, 2019 at 10:20 AM UTC
This world we live in is terribly cold
Stone hearts will chill your bones
**** your soul or so I have been told
By experiences of varried tones
If you could travel through
A mile or two in my shoes
You would lose your mind
And leave reality behind
Just like I did in a devilish bid
To try and find hope,
And a way to cope
With this life so morbid
Dealing with years of abuse
Each time I would reduce
And shelter my mind away
Blocking out the violent foray
The constant concussive ridicule
From parents with a wrathful rule
Their constant battery to my psyche
Has left me with barely any sanctity
Of mind, soul, and heart
All piles of rubble before I could start
So when I wander yonder, I cart
Around my dead childhood
Through this broken neighbourhood
While I wear an obsidian hood
So people don't see the real me
Enough said, it would fill you with dread
Because if only you could see
The face behind the mask,
You might finally know me
In a deeper sense, my task
The method to my madness
That I am acting under duress
I might impress upon your life
What it means to go through strife
You may have done worse deeds
But you didn't have to live your life on Speed.
Dec 13, 2014
Dec 13, 2014 at 3:31 PM UTC
There is a young lady called Anna. She is a loner. She lives alone with her two cats. They are her world. I am a cat lover myself and have 2 little cuties in my nest. But these cats are just plain feral. They terrorise the other cats in the neighbourhood and **** in all the neighbours’ garden.
She works Monday to Friday for a recruitment company. She leaves her flat in a purple Mazda convertible which is renowned for being a Hairdresser’s (AKA dumb **** car. Every day she leaves at 7.30am on the dot and every day she arrives home at 7.15pm on the dot.
Once at home she turns on her TV cinema system (sub), just to watch the TV.
*****
At the weekend she also leaves her stinking putrid ******* bags out in the communal hallway.
*****
She ignores her neighbour’s knocking on her door. She ignores the notes that they put through her letterbox.
*****
So as Anna was not willing to speak to her neighbours directly. They had no other way to turn apart from to report her to Environmental Health for playing her TV cinema system (sub) too loudly and also for the disgusting ******* that she regularly leaves out in the communal hallway.
*****
In which she returns the compliment by reporting them (said neighbours) to the Environmental Health for:
1) Shouting at each other,
2) Talking too loudly,
3) Banging kitchen utensils on the floor when she is in her kitchen
How deluded is this *****
At the same time that her neighbours reported Anna to the Environmental Health they also spoke to the Community Support Officer. They advised them to contact the Mediators in their local area. Which of course they did. The Mediators arranged to visit one evening. Unbeknownst to them they parked in Anna’s allocated parking space. Once they had finished with her neighbours, the Mediators returned to their car. Just as they were about to reverse their car, Anna arrived home in her Mazda convertible and blocked them in.
*****
When she got out of the Mazda convertible, with attitude I might add, she asked the Mediators who they were. They then introduced themselves. Once she knew who they were, she invited them into her flat to hear her side on the story.
YES I AM HER ******* NEIGHBOUR AND YES I AM STILL WAITING TO HEAR BACK FROM THE MEDIATORS……
Jan 30, 2010
Jan 30, 2010 at 11:21 PM UTC
For real, keep it on loop
I dig it a lot, like mama’s corn soup
You feelin’ me, hearing that tune
Or maybe I’m in the wrong room
Get up on it, know what I mean
Jammin’ on hot scones with cream
This song needs to tell our life stories
We all have battles forever in our lives
When you hear the sound of pop pop, oh no
Kids gettin’ shot for a pair of shoes in Chicago
Tough neighbourhood street
Corrupt badges on the beat
Planting dope, selling candy at the corner shop
Writing songs, tagging everywhere, if you dare
Doin’ time, enter from behind, I never, I swear
Come out on parole, new king on throne, lost all control
If I had my time again, I’d save a lot more, forget ‘bout toys
Look over my shoulders, stick to the plan, escape from the boys
They aren’t speakin’ our language
Let’s get the hell outta there, somewhere tranquil
Day by day, lets see if we can crack the code
Try placing ones thoughts in a brand new abode
For better or worse, it’s up to you, not your corner crew
We grew up thinking we had to listen, who knew
Step outside the hood, look around, don’t be shy
Then buy a one-way Greyhound ticket, say bye bye
At the start it might feel hard, but give it a chance
You’ll be surprised what you find, just take that first glance
Tough neighbourhood street
Corrupt badges on the beat
Planting dope, selling candy at the corner shop
Writing songs, tagging everywhere, if you dare
Doin’ time, enter from behind, I never, I swear
Come out on parole, new king on throne, lost all control
If I had my time again, I’d save a lot more, forget ‘bout toys
Look over my shoulders, stick to the plan, escape from the boys
Nov 22, 2020
Nov 22, 2020 at 7:14 AM UTC
Remember your neighbourhood in the late afternoon sun
Your body small, mind innocent
Every image a wonder, visages of beautiful naivety
The earth was a different place
All you owned were a box full of toys and a smile on your face
Love wasn't your hunt and conquest
Adventure could only quench that thirst
Wonderful, everything was
Freedom in childhood
Dec 6, 2013
Dec 6, 2013 at 9:20 PM UTC
Ask yourself this:
who is deserving of your love?
Is it your mom's boyfriend?
The one who has to creep around,
and tighten his grip
around your throat
to minimize your screams.
Is it the guy with tattoos you see around the neighbourhood?
You've heard he's been with other girls,
but maybe you could change him.
Maybe you could give him a taste of
his own medicine,
and he'd fall in love with you
with a snap of your fingers.
Is it the nerdy boy who sits in the third throw?
Sure, his shyness overtakes him,
but he's sweet.
Isn't that what a guy should be?
Or is it... her.
Who? Me?
Yes you!
With the crystal eyes,
and heart of gold!
Aren't you deserving of your own love?
I see you shake your head,
and I sigh in disappointment.
So, what exactly was your plan?
To put all your love into someone you didn't even know?
You shrug.
Oh, so you must suppose that the only person
who doesn't deserve love
is yourself.
Feb 25, 2015
Feb 25, 2015 at 6:20 PM UTC
My neighbourhood
Sun shines but it’s quiet in here
These mansions don’t seem to be occupied
Where is everybody?
We don’t see children playing on the street
We don’t know our neighbours
We all tend to mind our own chores
Audible tunes heard out of my small flat a few times
But I got told off for it more than once
This side of the world has no soul
I want to leave this high and mighty place
When I leave I’m never coming back
So long boring old Toorak!
Aug 30, 2014
Aug 30, 2014 at 5:41 AM UTC
What if I fell in love
With a broken down son-of-a-bitch
Not because I needed to fix him
But simply because I wanted to revel in his beauty
The maddening craziness
Of a life
A life that didn't need to be maintained with perfection
A life where you could just knock down pillars that you didn't need
Destroy friendships that weren't beneficial
A life where one could disown one's own mother
Without the whole neighbourhood offering their tut-tuts
And their 5 cents too many
About how to trim your garden
What if I fell in love with a life
Who let their weeds grow
And created a garden out of thorns
A **** patch that would make those neighbours shriek
What if I fell in love with chaos and disorder
Not to right the tables
Nor to order the shelves
What if I didn't attempt to prune the garden
But I let it grow into a forest
And then laughed when I stepped on a thorn
What if I let the sun shine through the madness
What if I opened my arms to the destruction
What if you sung me a lullaby out of tune
And I asked you to sing it anyways…
Apr 9, 2014
Apr 9, 2014 at 1:57 AM UTC
My new neighbour depression,
lives in a house rotting in the ground,
scarred wood torn away and roof tiles scattered,
with garden flowers withering away,
trees cracking at the slightest move of the wind.
Ever since he moved in a storm cloud
hangs low over the neighbourhood,
soaking my lawn and treading on my grass.
My neighbour depression
throws heavy stones to crack my windows,
leaves untidily scrawled messages of hatred in my letterbox,
leaving a trail of black paint up to his backgate.
My neighbour depression
takes advantage of my protection of thin walls,
and each day attempts to crash through them like a wrecking ball,
slowly dimming my lights and making shadows in my room
appear darker and bigger.
My neighbour depression
walks down the street like a black hole,
******* out all the sound around him.
And my neighbour depression
is starting to make me forget what my voice sounded like.
Oct 11, 2016
Oct 11, 2016 at 11:05 PM UTC
As the gangsta dies
On a hot and humid Florida mornin'
A poor grievin' young wife is torn
This is ghetto
And his crew cries
Because if there's one thing that they don't need
It's another corner boy to bleed
This is ghetto
Society, don't you understand
The hood needs a helping hand
Or they'll grow to be all angry young men one day
Take a look at them and me,
Are we too black to see,
Do we simply shut our mouths
And speak in another way
While the hood rolls
And an inspired young boy with a funny jive
Deals on the corner as he collects high fives
This is ghetto
And his crib burns
So he starts to scare the folks with fright
And he teaches how to deal
And he teaches how to bite
This is ghetto
Then one night in conversation
A young rat screams out loud
She buys a toy, steals a heart,
Tries for fun, but it won't even start
Then her man tries
As the crew gathers 'round a stupid young ***
Face down in the pillow with a ***** in her ******
This is ghetto
As the neighbourhood sighs
On a hot and humid Florida mornin'
Another poor grievin' young wife is torn
This is ghetto
Sep 5, 2019
Sep 5, 2019 at 6:20 PM UTC
Winding through the alleys
down to the old bazaar.
wander through the Stone Town
in the Port of Zanzibar.
The colours and the people
the spices in their blood.
Aromas floating through the air
through the neighbourhood.
The laughter and the singing,
the sparkle in the eyes.
The joy of life and living,
never in disguise.
Winding through the alleys,
down to the old bazaar.
The joy of life and living,
on the streets of Zanzibar.
Feb 28, 2015
Feb 28, 2015 at 3:58 PM UTC
Tory Lanez
Drake
The Weeknd
PartyNextDoor
Post Malone
ILoveMakonnen
RDGLDGRN
Kyle
G-Eazy
Rae Sremmurd
Future
Travis Scott
Lana Del Rey
Bryson Tiller
Jhene Aiko
Cal Scruby
Twenty-one pilots
The Neighbourhood
Zayn Malik
Jimi Hendrix
Nina Simone
Damian Marley ft Nas
Stephen Marley ft Wyclef Jean ft Nina Simone (Song:keeper of the flame)
No-Maddz (Song: Shotta)
Jesse Royal
Dec 29, 2015
Dec 29, 2015 at 8:51 PM UTC
5:00 am - Happy New Year!
I look like I should be a musician not a poet.
"It's so easy being a poet
so hard being a man"
- Charles Bukowski
----
5:14 am - Passing Rocklea, no sign of the dawn.
Coopers Plains station.
3 people get on.
Florescent lights cast a spell of sleep.
I wish I could sleep right now.
Eyelids droop like sad flowers from a convenience store.
I write metaphors like a drunken amateur.
Trinder park - Sounds like a bad neighbourhood.
**** ME ITS WOODRIDGE.
Where even the McDonalds sign is ******
XxXxxxxxx, Xxxxxx Xxxxxx :
She could be fun. So tight, she sometimes felt illegal.
Tight and bald. I would slide up to the *****
She loved it rough,
golden hair wrapped around my fingers
as she was pushed into the pillow.
She was loud in the mornings.
I could feel her tight ***
grinding against my thighs
as I ****** her harder and harder.
Until I came :
either inside her.
Or on her chest.
Or in her
prim
pink
suburban mouth.
Tightening my grip on her hair as the hot ***** spurted against the back of her throat.
The head of my **** throbbing as she gulped it down with silent satisfaction.
That only happened twice though.
----
5:37 am - The Dawn begins to rise over the Suburban Nation.
Final remnants of night
twinkle like stars
against the silhouette
of society.
House lights
Street lights
(and the omnipresent)
fluorescent light.
Beenleigh station - A pinch faced older woman gets on.
Business suit, lunch box.
Short hair, glasses.
Her earrings are imitation mother of pearl
(step-mother of pearl?)
She sits next to a window covered in graffiti.
Prim, tight mouth
incarnadine lipstick.
Over in the distance a smokestack cuts through the sky above the horizon.
Trees do mask the sun and sky.
"Hippies; they spend their whole life trying to get to a microphone and when they do, they don't tell anyone to **** off." - The Wolfman.
----
5:52 am - One more stop.
The clouds are the colour of smoke against the pearl blue sky.
----
6:00 am - Arrival.
Clouds are tinged with fire and blood
incandescently.
You can watch it spread and grow
with intensity.
Taxi driver was a foul mouthed Indian.
May 22, 2013
May 22, 2013 at 2:25 AM UTC
It wasn't the heartbreak, no.
It wasn't the anxiety or lack of motivation.
It wasn't the drugs that killed him.
I think that he simply got tired
Of all those lined up houses
In his neighbourhood.
F.Z.N
Mar 13, 2015
Mar 13, 2015 at 2:23 PM UTC
To the nights I've cried.
To the nights of his attempted suicide.
To the nights of depression.
To the nights of happiness.
To the nights of my lonely woe.
To the nights filled with stress.
To the nights of questioning.
To the nights and days that were the absolute hardest to get through.
To those night.
Thank you for being there.
Dec 6, 2013
Dec 6, 2013 at 12:01 AM UTC
What's equality when theirs cops
Beating around the neighbourhood
With a loaded gun nudging guilt
On the wounded sides of the bullied
Spitting on the youth with a blind eye
Turned away from bottles of pills
That we're forced in innocent hands
Because apparently they had a
problem with authority
-tdf
Aug 30, 2013
Aug 30, 2013 at 6:57 AM UTC
As I travel back to my younger days,
I remember my occluded mind.
The doings of neighbourhood and community,
Being taught always,
Darkness is sorrow,
White light is where
Peace and beauty you'll find...
That black shirt needs no washing,
As you cannot see its furrow,
White ones should be cared...
Hide yourselves with a black cloth,
Show yourself off to the world
With an angel ring that's white....
My heart is about to rot,
My mind with agony was already whirled,
I shall now began to fight,
For my skin Is dark,
But is brighter than your soul...
Jul 2, 2020
Jul 2, 2020 at 1:03 PM UTC
There's now proof, that a Russian flesh-eating cannibal is in the good old US of A
He would offer you toxic ingredients, including gasoline and lighter fluid, I'd say
But, because its tell-tale scaly sores, are similar to another well known leacher
They initially played down concerns, saying, "they're not seeing signs of the creature"
My boyfriend had maggots coming out of his leg, after a recent foreign scare
I know people don't want to hear stuff like that, but it is really happening out there
Snap goes the toothless crocodile, one, two, three
Wangsta da Gangsta, had a great haul
Ring a ding a ling, 'cause they deliver the first for free
Jim and Joan went into da hood, to fetch nothin' much at all
They fall to the charlatans, that promise you a crystal ball
A little at first and then some more, that's for sure
It will make you snap, give you curls and dance you a little twirl
Star gazing thru the sun ray and day tripping into a wayward night
That's why if you use crocodile juice, it will do more than shake ya loose
Destroying our souls, creating huge holes and build mountains out of moles
Snap goes the toothless crocodile, one, two, three
Wangsta da Gangsta, had a great haul
Ring a ding a ling, 'cause they deliver the first for free
Jim and Joan went into da hood, to fetch nothin' much at all
Mr Jeffrey Vint has become less popular among his abusers
I say, "they're all losers", but I guess, beggars can't be choosers
Some mother's even gave birth with two thumbs, but those babies are now total ****
Others think the monster could be at large, maybe roaming your neighbourhood
Put a stop to this croc's chomp, before it destroys everything in the swamp
Get your doctor to prescribe a stronger drug, to conquer that evil imposter
Snap goes the toothless crocodile, one, two, three
Wangsta da Gangsta, had a great haul
Ring a ding a ling, 'cause they deliver the first for free
Jim and Joan went into da hood, to fetch nothin' much at all.
Sep 10, 2019
Sep 10, 2019 at 5:19 PM UTC
it's a college party
even though i never finished and the rest of y'all are spending money you don't have on the ingredients necessary for homemade sangria so you can drink the crippling anxiety of not knowing how to pay off your student loans away
there's a man living in a tent in the backyard, and i'm pretty sure we put one too many pieces of scrap wood in that very-hard-to-maintain bonfire. that has to be a metaphor for the state of most of our lives. stop throwing things i'm unprepared for in what already feels like a situation that is going to **** me.
is this a literal housewarming
i'm drunk, and sitting on the deck, counting the christmas lights. i smell **** and there are white people dancing and singing to blink 182 inside.
i paint my name on a drywall with a brush and canisters i find on my way to the living room, where i'm asked to referee a game of beer pong. i lose interest quickly.
i scroll through my phone, sober enough not to text you but drunk enough to desperately want to. someone sits down next to me because i've apparently become that person at the party.
i talk about rent with a guy who really wants to connect on the fact that we're both middle eastern, even though i'm not middle eastern. he smells like PBR and completely believes what he's saying. he says he's proud of me for following my dreams of coming to new york and that he likes my "crazy hair" and that he wants to **** me.
i raise my eyebrows, more in disgust than interest, but he then takes his perceived cue to shamelessly ask me if i have a ****** i don't, and i leave before he brainstorms any alternatives i am just as aversive to.
ironically, i find a ****** dispenser attached to a tree on the walk to the subway. considering the amount of catcalling i experienced on the way to the station, my level of discomfort is amplified by the fact that the neighbourhood literally, physically implies, ******* is going to happen in the streets. it's 2am, and i just want to go home. and i'm sitting on the J train, recalling everyone who's told me it's shady and unreliable and makes you feel like you're going to die.
a few months later, i am nicknamed J train.
Sep 21, 2016
Sep 21, 2016 at 2:24 AM UTC
Drapes for windows anew, imitating neighbourhood too,
Furniture rearranged, pictures too; all in blue,
Watchin’, dreamin’ lucid at the porch, of you;
Lay hanging on by the leash, I wait to let go,
Like magic birthday candles reignite, reignite,
Thoughts raced of rats and Tremor Christ,
Dried tears shed tumbling down as I cried;
With every moment I lay, I lay inspired;
I’ll make my yellow bucket list,
This’ll also include in it some of Budapest,
I’ll head off maybe from Scarborough,
Go all the way to Bali with packs of Marlboro,
And maybe then, I’d have answered;
All those questions that have lingered,
And maybe then, I’d have lived,
All those rights and wrongs, greeted and treated,
I’ll travel alone but not lonely,
My feet, my only carriage, I’ll carry;
I’ll carry me home one night!!
Jul 16, 2012
Jul 16, 2012 at 10:01 PM UTC
*When we start building Walls
Amidst neighbourhood woes
neighbours we encouraged to construct
their homestead close to our doors in assurance
of a strong shoulder on which to lean in times of adversity,
you definitely know the wines we call Wars
are brewing somewhere, walls are just a wine cellar
Divisions are the bottle to the wine seller
We once built bridges to unite the world
that peacefully lived as a divided entity
That's what happens in times of crisis
Some build walls to quarantine the endemic
while others choose to build more bridges
even if it means risking an entire generation
for we were once a world without boundaries
neighbourhood miseries were our miseries
their laugh was our laugh and their cry was our cry
We sung a single anthem in unison without a sigh...
always wait for drums of war to judge who is true
wait until then to know who honestly loves you*
Jun 24, 2016
Jun 24, 2016 at 8:24 AM UTC
I woke in the early hours to find
My head between her thighs,
She hadn’t been there before, I swear
And I’m not a man who lies.
I’d seen her out in the Public Bar
Of the ‘Jacaranda Tree’,
Halfway along the Outback Track
On the way to Wendouree.
I’d seen her dance on the table tops
I’d seen her prance on the bar,
I’d said to Lance as I saw him glance
‘I don’t know where we are!’
He shrugged, to say that he didn’t care
As long as she danced that way,
Her stockings, down at her ankles and
Her skirt in disarray.
‘Now there is a ***** to turn your head,’
Said Lance, with a burst of pride,
He’d been out on the verandah, then
He’d turned to go back inside,
She’d joined him there for a moment,
Just brushed by for a quick connect,
But he hadn’t noticed her eyebrow raised
In a sign that said, ‘Reject!’
We both had our eighteen wheelers parked
Outside in the hotel grounds,
I was headed away up north
And he to the lights of town,
He offered to give her the sleeper cab
While he drove the star-filled night,
I looked away and I thought it sad,
But the trucks both looked alike.
I heard him leave at the midnight hour
And thought she was gone for good,
It wasn’t often I hauled this way
Or stayed in this neighbourhood.
But then I clambered into my bunk
Above, at the cabin’s rear,
And fell asleep like a hopeless drunk
Till the morning sun drew near.
I made an offer to buy that pub,
The ‘Jacaranda Tree’,
But only when she agreed to stay
And dance on the bar for me,
I asked if she’d meant to go with Lance
And she looked at me with scorn,
I sleep the sleep of a new romance
And the pillows keep me warm.
David Lewis Paget
Mar 11, 2016
Mar 11, 2016 at 10:47 PM UTC
Our neighbourhood was Black;
Unknown and Mysterious.
The people -- Red,
And I --
was Blue.
How can a color so different...
Mix with the rest?
They've seen my heart..
they've seen it alright.
They said it was
Grey.
a color they treated to be
Unknown.
a vision of my true intentions
Compromised.
But I knew, inside of me,
I knew
I knew that Black and White was a feeling--
a feeling they shoved down on me
an attempt to saturate me
a feeling that I could no longer stand.
I paint.
I paint with the colors the world has shoved down on me.
And I think--
Will the world ever see me?
But just when I've ran out--
I've been saturated;
Touched with the fire and energy of Red.
Like sunsets where the Orange meets the Blue,
I painted a Lilac sky.
And the neighbourhood I once knew was Black,
Is now my White.
Apr 7, 2016
Apr 7, 2016 at 6:52 AM UTC
Meadow Fresh
Our fuel for life,
Redzenergy
and the 500mL V
“William, William
stay where I can see you ok”
Stop (neighbourhood watch patrols operating)
In here
Enter the fusion
Stay clear of the fire
Sprinkler inlet
Open
a Woman’s day
Jul 20, 2013
Jul 20, 2013 at 6:02 AM UTC
sedately walks the cats
home from their hunting;
the neighbourhood terrors
May 1, 2014
May 1, 2014 at 1:48 PM UTC