"nuh" poems
•helping the kids with homework•
no one told you,
was part of the job description
paycheck earner a-ok,
gruff but tender lover,
knowing her special places,
building a tree swing,
a tree house safe and satisfactory,
one the neighbors envy
taking them to the hospital for
broken arms and chemotherapy,
part two of the non-routine but a very possible foreseeable,
going to school to give that principal a look
that will make him think twice before suspending
one of his for defending himself
you remember your daddy doing the same for you,
forgetting to repeat the tar and hiding that came later
the tucking in, the pretense ouch
when your end of day
scratchy beard ruffling the skin of babies,
carrying tissues in a toolbox,
never heard of, nevertheless done,
tho not a memory defining the future inclusive,
definitely a learning ability, a likeability
doing homework, nuh uh,
no way jose, don’t dare let them
know how you never got a gold star,
always sat in the back row, outta sight,
all day dreaming, chemistry rhymes with mystery,
and poetry is rhymes needing a big vocabulary
which means lots of words for a man who don’t talk much
ain’t exactly his strong suit
sure, heard of Shakespeare but never met him,
know where the on/off computer button hides,
the rest is up to them;
got no email address, but taught them sir and ma’am,
how to address humans with respect,
i’ll promise them anything
but not doing any homework,
unless it the kind that that makes
“a home work”
Jul 22, 2018
Jul 22, 2018 at 9:20 AM UTC
My Haseena
late night
pillow fights
watching stars
airplane flights
Wow’ babe, come see the morning clouds
With peaceful doves
Flying above
Wet kisses
Like a washed dishes
Sweat on yo breast
Di* grew stronger
Felt the touch of your hand on my hair
And the other hand romancing my back
just me and you
After waiting for so long
Oh my gosh,
Yo high heels tinkling my legs
Night gown wet
I’m ready and set
***** shaved clean, nuh hair.
My dear queen can I come in ?
No! Not what you think
I mean can I **** it ?
Let me give you the legendary of me
Dearie
Feb 8, 2019
Feb 8, 2019 at 6:47 PM UTC
Beat the Congo
Blow the horn
Wave your hand
Out of many one people
What a vibration
In a this little island
Even though we can’t live as one
But when a party time
We unite
Nuh matter the culture (it doesn’t)
We a full joy we self
You have Rasta talking
Christians praying
Bay song playing (in the context Bay means a lot)
Smiles on everybody faces
Out many one people
So come the Chinese, British, Syrians, Americans, Indians
Every Caribbean and rest of the world
Come to Jamaica
And feel alright
Listen some Bob
Don’t carry no jewelry
Because you will get rob
But come and eat
Have a feast
Enjoy we beach
Entertainment
Energy a shot
Drink a cold beer
Relax under the coconut tree
Feel free
We have **** chicken
Curry goat
Festival, rice, Bammy
Fry and steam fish
Come enjoy we cultural dish
Food galore
Go back a your country
Tell every boy and girl
Say Jamaica nice
We know say crime and violence
Corruption
A plague
But don’t let that stop you
Cause everybody welcome
Nuh matter taste (It doesn’t)
Come in a haste
Cause we have a celebration
Jam dung vibration
Me a tell the politician
Say me a send out a special invitation
But first we yard need renovation
Build up Jamaica
And education
Cause we live in a paradise
Black, green and gold
We proud and bold
As we motto say
Out of many one people.
CHRISTENA ANTONIA VALAIRE WILLIAMS ©2012
JAMAICA
Jan 7, 2013
Jan 7, 2013 at 12:55 PM UTC
“Top of the Morning to ‘Yuh, Guv’nuh.”
Oh, to be father of a
Cockney flower girl,
To be Eliza Doolittle’s
Dear old Dad,
Alfred P. of that surname.
Oh, to be a cockney dustman,
On this fine day,
Another fine day in
Northern New Mexico, as I
Sell my daughter to
‘Enery Iggins, or
Some equivalent
Princeton poofter.
I am Rhett Butler,
Daring blockade-runner,
Persona –non-grata
For any decent
Family—including my own,
Charleston Carolina.
In time, I crave
Social acceptance for
Bonnie Blue—my ill fated
Would-be equestrian offspring;
I surrender my daughter to the
Upper Class.
May 12, 2015
May 12, 2015 at 1:40 PM UTC
The house is chaka chaka
the guests are due tomorrow
but wi hab di ting lack, Mon
a Tap a di Tap is a comin'
n' we nuh live nowhere
but wi hab di ting lack, Mon
now a storm's a-brewin'
& the Babylon, they outside
but wi hab di ting lack, mon
but wi hab di ting lack
Sep 9, 2015
Sep 9, 2015 at 8:43 PM UTC
[Intro: Quavo]
**** man. Brrrrtttttt
Hello?
What the hell you mean Ma? I ain't did ****
****
[Hook: Quavo]
Feds hit the spot man I ain't saying nothin
They came around about 5 o' clock this morning (12!)
They telling me I'm copping contraband from informants
Channel 2, Fox 5, I'm America's most wanted! (Ooh!)
Hot boy, hot boy, hot boy, hot boy, hot boy
Hot boy, hot boy, hot boy, hot boy, hot boy
Feds hit the spot say I'm copping from informants
Channel 2, Fox 5, I'm America's most wanted! (Ooh!)
[Verse 1: Quavo]
Yeah, yeah, Quavo
I pick up my **** and then hit the door (Oh **** **** 12!)
Surrounding my house and they kick the door (Boom! Boom!)
"Don't move, get on the floor!" I hit the window and fell on the curb
I'm trying to get up and take off, the officer speared me, like Goldberg
Say "Where were you 3 o clock on the dot?" "My Momma's house" "You a ******* liar"
Have you heard about your new worker? (Nah) Know I put him in your circle
I witnessed you purchase the pound (nuh uh)
I witnessed you purchase the brown (no you didn't)
I witnessed you purchase the white (no!)
Say goodnight down the road for a long flight
[Hook]
[Verse 2: Takeoff]
Hot Boy like Silkk the Shocker, pull up on your blocka with the Waka Flocka
Momma hit me on my cellular told me that Quavo got caught by the coppers ****
They say they've been investigating and Migo gang we connected with the mobsters (Huh?)
Can't talk to you ****** my lawyer talk. **** the prosecutor Mr. Marcus
**** Lookin out of my window, I see a black truck and it's empty
Walk to the door check the peephole (what that is man?)
Then I start hearing a noise and it makes me paranoid ****
Thinking what the **** is going on? (What the ****
All of these tools like it's Autozone
If I get caught I ain't coming home (No!)
[Hook]
[Verse 3: Offset]
Offset!
They said that I sold to informants
I told them I just got off touring
They circle my house like an orbit ****
He telling me he gon extort me (huh?)
50% of my income, unfortunately he not gon get none
Life sentence or freedom so pick one
**** ***** you trying the wrong one **** *****
Quavo call my phone, his spot got raided it just got kicked in
We all met up in the Westin
Who know what the **** going on it ain't making sense (who know?)
The police talking they got evidence
I told you ****** bout serving them Mexicans (I told you ******
**** There go 12 ****
I picked up my **** and I moved out the residence
[Hook]
May 7, 2015
May 7, 2015 at 9:13 AM UTC
To John – who always told me, ‘I’m fine, it’s the rest of them’
You know that
You’re kissing life’s ***
When a girl chooses
A weedy
Airheaded
Pompous
Obnoxious
Nothing
Over you.
You, with a big heart.
A warm touch
A sense of humour
A sense of love
And not just carnal desire.
That, no man can do without
She will not love you
Nuh-huh, no way.
And you’re thinking,
Jesus:
It’s either something he’s got that I haven’t
Or indeed that
They’re lacking something I’m not.
Nov 12, 2011
Nov 12, 2011 at 9:25 AM UTC
I taught you
how to say my name correctly
Uhn-juh-nuh
and you taught me
how to say the name of your hometown
Can-an-day-gua.
A fair exchange,
perhaps.
Canandaigua.
Town that manufactured
Arbor Mist,
the cheap artificial wine I bought
[being the only one of drinking age]
that we drank
all summer,
well,
until July
when everything fell apart.
In August
When things settled down
when you decided that
you didn’t love me anymore,
we issued that age old
empty promise exes make:
“We’ll still be friends.”
Exchanged a few Facebook messages
and that was that.
I was never in love with you,
but
you still made it into my zine,
and I still think of you
from time to time,
visit your Facebook page
as if...
well, who knows?
It’s always the same with
everyone I used to know,
but Over is Over,
no social media changes that.
When I see that name:
Canandaigua,
I think of you,
but it’s just another name
and you’re just another Over.
Dec 21, 2014
Dec 21, 2014 at 12:10 PM UTC
I hold the dice tightly in my palm
I shake 'em and roll them on the floor
I shut my eyes,
hoping my desired number takes the day.
3 For dead end, 5 for Hope
8...misery!
She loves me, she loves not
She will take me back , nuh, she wont.
Since when did my life become such a gamble?
I roll All my care into one HUGE ball
OUT the window!!
Its I now.
The light only in MY eyes.
It doesn't go this way
Enough is here
the End has come!
©TheUnspoken
Mar 5, 2015
Mar 5, 2015 at 7:08 AM UTC
transitional times
*midst the ordinaries, not paying close attention,
the yet to be baked batter of chatter while driving past the familiar,
a plain pasta with butter conversation,
the human carbohydrates of our racing consuming energy,
she slips me up, by slipping in two words,
her icing on the cake phrasing
"transitional times"
pull over to the side of Menantic Road
in the early of the late afternoon, Saturday's reclining sunlight,
question her closely, CIA taping her words to my brain:
did she mean the late afternoon hours of our lives when
reflection of sun sprinkles on our bay voyages us as voyeurs
past the old longings and into the future recalling?
perhaps, the au contraire, the steady stepping,
sneaking away of the sheltering night so that the earth's
inhabitants and organs may be revived in yellow golden greens of damp grasses and the whiteness of a Sunday's fresh milk?
of course, of course, the times when the horizon calls,
saying come to me, cross the transition to the newness
of everything, in the ages and days of celebration of
unfamiliar entrances?*
No, no, she answers, bemusedly grinning,
not everything is a poem,
you thieving wordsmith, simply did I observe
that having an extra pair of sunglasses in the car for
transitional times
was a good idea!
*pulling back on the road that goes past the
Tuck Ice Cream Shoppe, the island treasure hunt Dump, the ordinary homes on the range, all along the way to the boatyard where are kept and stored and stockpiled each summer colored sunset evening along with the drinkable French pink Rose wines and gleaming yellow Sancerre and golden ales of Nantucket,
I think to myself,*
nuh uh,
*every transition,
every glorious mindless conversation,
even in the town dump,
treasures in each word, in everything, especially the
extra extra-ordinaries,
is a poem*
June 25. 2017
5:20am
Jun 25, 2017
Jun 25, 2017 at 5:42 AM UTC
In God we trust
In God we trust
In God we trust
I nuh Gaw duh wii tr uhst
Ein nuh GAHWD wiie TR UHST
EINUH GAHHWD WEIIIE TR UUHS T
**EEEEEI NUH GUH AW DH
WUH EEIIIE TH RUH SS TH**
**EEEEEI NUH GUH AW DH
WUH EEIIIE TH RUH SS TH**
**EEEEEI NUH GUH AW DH
WUH EEIIIE TH RUH SS TH**
EEEEEI NUH GUH AW DH
WUH EEIIIE TH RUH SS TH**
Apr 29, 2015
Apr 29, 2015 at 2:32 PM UTC
halter of progress
bane of evolution
frostbite of growth
death of the future
try to stop me now!
I dare you!
I know your tricks!
your snarly ways!
the maybes
the sick feelings
the doubtful thoughts
the double-takes
I know them all!
every
single
one
and you can’t stop me anymore!
nuh-uh
you can try,
but you
can’t!
so now,
be afraid!
be very afraid!
because world
here I come
and honestly,
you’ve got no way
to stop
me
(unless you **** me,
of course.)
Nov 14, 2010
Nov 14, 2010 at 4:41 PM UTC
I watched a
Jehovah
Witness lugging around
200 lbs of literature in a suit and tie on a
103 degree
August day and
I was thinking out loud,
God,
That can't be what you want from us is it??
What
DO you want from us? and
I heard in my soul the words
"Turn on the radio" and
I said nuh-uh!! and the voice said,
"Yes, turn on the radio" and so
I did and right on cue, the
Dj said, we don't normally do this but we've got a request to play this song one more time!
and it was this song.
Sep 21, 2017
Sep 21, 2017 at 1:31 AM UTC
cracks me up
this erroneous error message,
looks at me and states authoritatively
nuh-uh, buddy, “it ain’t you you babe,
it ain’t you we looking for babe”
makes me crazy crying
copiously betw snorting fits of
eloquent derision
why oh why
is it daily savings time prematurely
(immaturely) aging me,
be it advancing decrepitude
or just the AI’s sullen attitude?
be it a secret messaging that my
mother’s slow descent into
senility, loss of speech is now me-
visible to the all seeing eyes on
a dollar bill, & or the iPhone genie?
this erroneous messaging appears
with an irregularity regular, just
enough to make me think that
this
is
not
accidental
come to nyC,
come me to see,
need an independent
judgement summary
please
before the winter pale overcomes my
poetic resistance and they park me
in the backyard, where I can sit yet,
studying for multiple hours
the river-fed bay on its way
to the vastness of the Atlantic
Ocean, where the water will combine.
all cells of each of our selected
those chosen body’s of water,
bodies now interring,
while populating
intermingling
taking stingling diatoms from
of each, they will kiss, greet, each other,
with the clarity of recognition that our
poetry has already bonded us in ways that are irrefutable, been coming long time
geological formations new and old,
still forces unstoppable foreseeing
every, every ever
Nov 2, 2024
Nov 2, 2024 at 6:46 AM UTC
IN GOD’S NAME, THE COMPASSIONATE
MATLOOB BOKHARI
O Most Gracious and Most Merciful God
Who raised up the heavens without any support.
Who forgave our first parents, Adam and Eve
Who listened cries of Younus from depth of darkness
Who rescued Nuh , and drowned who denied His signs
Who ordered the fire to be cool and be safety for Ibrahim
Who kept Yousuf away from the seduction of Zulaikhah
Who blessed Musa a radiance white hand and a staff
Who made Mary and her son a sign for the worlds
Whose signs are the night and the day ; the sun, the moon
Glory be Thee! O totally forgiving God, I repent to You
Ask forgiveness in the name of Muhammad and his progeny
I am most meek, I am most humble, I am most obedient
O God Who pardons like a mother, I made big mistakes
I am worst sinner, I confess my sins, I ask big forgiveness
I have wounded my soul; I have gone astray, forgive me!
Please forgive me! To err is human, to forgive is Divine
Surely, Your compassion overcomes Your wrath!
Dec 29, 2014
Dec 29, 2014 at 11:01 AM UTC
If you are hurt or betrayed, If you are hurt by people, who share the same blood as you. Remember Yussuf A.S, who was betrayed by his own brothers.
If you find your parents opposing you. Remember Ibrahim A.S, whose father led him to the fire.
If you are stuck with a problem where there's no way out. Remember Yunnus A.S stuck in the belly of a whale.
If you are ill and your body cries with a pain, remember Ayyub A.S who was more ill than you.
If someone slanders you. Remember Aishah A.S who was slandered throughout the city.
If you are lonely. Recall Adam A.S who was created alone.
If you cannot see any logic around you. Think of Nuh A.S who built an ark without questioning.
If you are mocked by your own relatives. Think of Nabi Muhammad S.A.W.
Can't you see how wonderful our Nabi is and their stories. Islam is indeed beautiful and perfect!
Nov 24, 2013
Nov 24, 2013 at 6:57 AM UTC
What do I really want?
I'll need some time to think
but in the meantime
let me inform you
that your sunglasses turn me off.
they haunt me with images of Lady Gaga
and if you're anything like her
I say nuh-uh.
You spend too much time painting your nails
checking your phone
and looking for sales.
Now, don't get me wrong,
I'm not saying looking nice is wrong
trust me
i notice
but i need someone with their priorities straight
not someone who regularly takes a picture of their plate.
and I don't want to just sit there and stare into your eyes
saying they're a teardrop from the moon
trying to get you to swoon.
your eyes could be the most beautiful things i've ever seen
but that means **** to me when you're a material queen.
instead, while we gaze into each other's eyes
i'll probably pick your nose
stick it in your ear
or wipe it on your clothes
i need someone who understands
that life is really about where we've been
where we're going
and most definitely
about taking the scenic route
because if our eyes are the windows to our souls
that's where I'll be looking when we grow old
and i'll see all our memories
not the cancer
the spots
or crippling disease.
because age may wrinkle our skin,
and time pass us like wind
what's truly important
is what's within.
Just like wine
we'll only get better in time.
so lets make those memories
lets scrape our knees
really feel the breeze
and please please please
remember that we can stay young if we just act a little dumb.
remember these mountains we climb would take less time
if we hold each other's hands
and intertwine.
that way,
whether we make it to the top
or life pulls us down
we'll be together.
my love.
my crown.
Jul 3, 2013
Jul 3, 2013 at 1:57 AM UTC
Ihi yahnh ihi
Dance the calypso
Step to irie nuh ire
Life’s everliving love song
Though mi throat coarse
Mi wi sing fi yuh
Oct 22, 2018
Oct 22, 2018 at 7:55 AM UTC
It's a yell
A shout
A scream
and it's unheard. Believe me, when I
say I am not what I seem to be
when I am smiling
when I am grimacing
and I am wishing that I could do it
"just like normal people do"
But the word "Anxious" is soaked
like a tattoo down to my bone, until
I feel so alone that I wish I could eat myself
Snake scales slowly sliding into place
As, with each new word, I slowly want
to trickle sand
and
erase my
embarrassment
All too aware of
harassment which doesn't exist
I can't even begin to give you a list
of the amount of ways I felt this
hole, this weight, this unmistakeable
slayer of my breath
make me feel bereft again of
society, and friendship,
and love,
My brain is constantly praying for that dove
with an olive branch
Just to take a stance over my head
and let me be led into freedom
But instead
My mentality lies in tatters
and what is left
wholesome is scattered
with fear on the wind,
gradually allowing itself to rescind
until it turns, reforms, and falls
again
I never know when it's going to strike
Usually it's when I start to like somebody new,
that it begins to brew up it's toxic mess
Friend, Other or Lover,
it will find a way to slither and make
less again,
So nuh-uh, no way, not again,
I refuse to look you in the eye,
because I'm scared I'll cry if I see my fear there,
I'm scared I'll see that you're aware, that my fear
is slowly drowning me, and crowning
me the Queen of
Isolation,
lost and uncertain
Wishing I could pull the curtain, but still
blindly hoping that audience will
come to, will see the tattoo
and not be disgusted.
I don't want to be distrusted, because every sorry
is laden with uncertainty and regret, that's it
not over yet, and the monster still holds
me by the throat,
I am bathed in mistrust's yolk
And I wish I could smell of something different.
But, I take a deep breath, and I let
another war begin.
Because every day I stare into another's
pupil, is
another day I kinda, sorta,
win.
Oct 29, 2014
Oct 29, 2014 at 8:52 PM UTC
Girl : Be a little classy say scenery not view
Boy : view, it's a view.
Girl : it's a scenery. A scenic scenery. A memorable scenery.
Boy : You're a beautiful scenery. See **** doesn't make sense.
Girl : That's different.
Boy : What's the difference, that's just a sun. You're much prettier.
Girl : Such a sweet tongue, how many girls hearts have you broken?
Boy : None. Yet...
Girl : One day you'll miss having someone to look at scenic sceneries with.
Boy : I have you for that don't I?
Girl : True that but you'll still miss it when we grow up.
Boy : Who says we have to grow up?
Girl : We all do.
Boy : Nuh uh
Girl : Trust me you'll miss having someone to go look at views with.
One year later
Boy : I already do.
Mar 23, 2016
Mar 23, 2016 at 4:58 PM UTC
next to never (a pair of ones)
squeezed between nuh-uh and fugetaboutit,
is that long gone notion in the nation of concepts,
like one true love, the connected lines on each of our
bodies, certifying we are a pair of ones, a strong hand.
there are chores to be done:
reread Guy de Maupassant,
delete two thousand unread emails
cry for my so lost children
let Walt Whitman wash over my body like oil
kick the guy out of bed so he can make us coffee.
a ton of stuff to do, good thing, we got a strong hand,
that pair of ones.
which I am now informed is called a pair of
Aces.
Who Knew?
7:51 Sun Jul 12
Jul 12, 2020
Jul 12, 2020 at 8:06 AM UTC
Hey you gal, com’ere
You notice seh, when word gone round,
And people affie frown
and deh look pon you.
Mi nah say nothing.
When word gone round,
And people affie frown,
And deh look pon me,
Why yeah fi see me?
You haunted or summthin?
Vanilla on cream,
Think she prettier then me,
You nah nothing
Hey goodie, with your white gal ‘air
Only thing you better dan me,
Is ******* that wood like a lolly lolly pop.
Why you affie be so bad mind
You have a sad mind,
Two tiny ***** knocking side to side,
Coming up to me, with ya smile in hand,
Yeah lie, yeah lie
Me nuh see you,
you affie be somebody fi see
Hey you gal,
you think your better then me?
With ya boyfriend
Who ya naw even see, see
Bringing home hickeys,
And deh gurls seh she nah even mean dem.
Hahahahahaha
Go **** back ya moma
Ya, luckier then me!!!
Feb 27, 2019
Feb 27, 2019 at 3:55 PM UTC
Ghetto life, it nuh easy
Especially when hungry a bite
Hungry can cause man fi a fight
Also loose dem life
Man hangout pon ends
Sey dem a hold a medz,
Police draw gun, man affie run
Tom get shot him tumble down
We cagow sleep a night, cause gun shot teck flight.
Blam, blam, bow bow, Kapow pow
Pon is floor man get down
Whouie him dead!!
Gun shot eena him head.
Feb 2, 2019
Feb 2, 2019 at 4:44 PM UTC