"oxfam" poems - Hello Poetry

Alexander K Opicho (Eldoret, Kenya;[email protected]) There are more and more misfortunes in the world Known to you dear people in your diverse conditions, But my life and experience has taught me unique lessons Of kindred to befit me Elizabeth, a daughter of Zinjathropus Hailing in the savannah desert, Turkana County of Kenya, I have graduated in to a single lady without test of marriage, As desert men look at me in their irritating impotence, **** clothes wrapped around their slender waists passing on me Like a dog passing on American dollars; cursed be desert men, I thought my beauty of dark African complexions will give them a ****** tease But to my chagrin; desert men have a fear of beautiful ladies My conscience tells me that my beauty is an eye sore to them, I thought my bulging hips will entice them as is a promise of fertility Leave alone not to mention my concupiscent ****** warmth, uhmmm! Desert men have dared not to see and appreciate my **** bossom, They often pass on me driving their donkeys and emaciated carmels, I thought my ***** sharp pointed ******* assign of virginity Will call them to me into a treat of love, affiliative love, But sadly enough; these dudes are erotically blind, They they nonchalantly pass on my **** ***** Wielding a begging bowl in their ***** long hands Running like drunkard chimpanzees going to Oxfam stores to beg for food, Cursed be Oxfam an imperialist agent, it has crashed flat The testicles of our desert brothers into ****** insensitivity, Oxfam has made African desert men to beg like Hebrew lepers Other than standing up on their feet to feed their women, Normally as men would do from the sweat of their brow, I thought my education will attract them to me, To love me with those romantic University kisses, But desert men have crude cultures and slavish religion They rebuke girl child education as if it is a devil, Oh my dear God of the forsaken desert ladies Of the forsaken African daughters, Take me out of this ****** desert Take me out of the city desert of Lodwar, Take me to the equator line and give me a husband, My eggs are pretty ready to conceive and sire children Sons and daughters for your own glory O almighty God, Take me out of this ****** desert, Where no man treats a modern woman, Take me out of here and give me a fresh man of my dream. Because I have known from today; It is accurse to be a woman in Africa It is a curse to be a beautiful lady in African deserts It is a curse to be a woman graduate in the African desert It is a curse to have ***** ******* in the African desert, O! Help me God.

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Mar 5, 2014

Mar 5, 2014 at 9:58 AM UTC

alexander-k-opicho

MELODY OF A DESERT SINGLE LADY

Alexander K Opicho (Eldoret, Kenya;[email protected]) There are more and more misfortunes in the world Known to you dear people in your diverse conditions, But my life and experience has taught me unique lessons Of kindred to befit me Elizabeth, a daughter of Zinjathropus Hailing in the savannah desert, Turkana County of Kenya, I have graduated in to a single lady without test of marriage, As desert men look at me in their irritating impotence, **** clothes wrapped around their slender waists passing on me Like a dog passing on American dollars; cursed be desert men, I thought my beauty of dark African complexions will give them a ****** tease But to my chagrin; desert men have a fear of beautiful ladies My conscience tells me that my beauty is an eye sore to them, I thought my bulging hips will entice them as is a promise of fertility Leave alone not to mention my concupiscent ****** warmth, uhmmm! Desert men have dared not to see and appreciate my **** bossom, They often pass on me driving their donkeys and emaciated carmels, I thought my ***** sharp pointed ******* assign of virginity Will call them to me into a treat of love, affiliative love, But sadly enough; these dudes are erotically blind, They they nonchalantly pass on my **** ***** Wielding a begging bowl in their ***** long hands Running like drunkard chimpanzees going to Oxfam stores to beg for food, Cursed be Oxfam an imperialist agent, it has crashed flat The testicles of our desert brothers into ****** insensitivity, Oxfam has made African desert men to beg like Hebrew lepers Other than standing up on their feet to feed their women, Normally as men would do from the sweat of their brow, I thought my education will attract them to me, To love me with those romantic University kisses, But desert men have crude cultures and slavish religion They rebuke girl child education as if it is a devil, Oh my dear God of the forsaken desert ladies Of the forsaken African daughters, Take me out of this ****** desert Take me out of the city desert of Lodwar, Take me to the equator line and give me a husband, My eggs are pretty ready to conceive and sire children Sons and daughters for your own glory O almighty God, Take me out of this ****** desert, Where no man treats a modern woman, Take me out of here and give me a fresh man of my dream. Because I have known from today; It is accurse to be a woman in Africa It is a curse to be a beautiful lady in African deserts It is a curse to be a woman graduate in the African desert It is a curse to have ***** ******* in the African desert, O! Help me God.

49

She shuffles and scuttles quickly along beating her way, through the Christmas throng The north wind cutting her mottled face But shes not part of the Christmas race For things not needed, luxurious, unwise Her mind fixed on the price and size Of a winter coat in that Oxfam place, she prays its still there, she quickens her pace. The bell dings-a-ling as she opens the door Not feeling her legs so tird and sore Like a long lost friend it waits on the rail she thanks her god its still for sale. Her hurry finished, her purchase complete She focuses now on something to eat To the corner shop she makes to go happier now , her step is slow bread and milk ,this and that two tins of food for her little cat Home at last her mission complete She models her coat and warms her feet She cuddles her cat and locks her door She makes their tea and she cuddles him more She dims the light her prayers are said She thanks her god for her winter coat that doubles as a duvet for her bed.

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Jun 28, 2010

Jun 28, 2010 at 4:08 PM UTC

heidi

The Duvet with Sleeves

She shuffles and scuttles quickly along beating her way, through the Christmas throng The north wind cutting her mottled face But shes not part of the Christmas race For things not needed, luxurious, unwise Her mind fixed on the price and size Of a winter coat in that Oxfam place, she prays its still there, she quickens her pace. The bell dings-a-ling as she opens the door Not feeling her legs so tird and sore Like a long lost friend it waits on the rail she thanks her god its still for sale. Her hurry finished, her purchase complete She focuses now on something to eat To the corner shop she makes to go happier now , her step is slow bread and milk ,this and that two tins of food for her little cat Home at last her mission complete She models her coat and warms her feet She cuddles her cat and locks her door She makes their tea and she cuddles him more She dims the light her prayers are said She thanks her god for her winter coat that doubles as a duvet for her bed.

26

I may behave like one at times, But I don't want to look like a giant baby. This hideous thing Has been made for a giraffe-legged, short-bodied blob with no ***** And it takes up a single wash in my machine. It's only redeeming feature Is that it made my daughters laugh until they needed to *** So it's a good job I didn't find it funny, As I'd have to take the whole thing off for such an act. Off to Oxfam with it. I hope it finds a loving home. I've made my mind up; not a onesie fan And besides, I sleep naked And have no need for a giant fleecy sack.

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Jan 5, 2014

Jan 5, 2014 at 10:10 AM UTC

AmandaIS

Unwanted Onesie (Thanks, but no thanks!)

I may behave like one at times, But I don't want to look like a giant baby. This hideous thing Has been made for a giraffe-legged, short-bodied blob with no ***** And it takes up a single wash in my machine. It's only redeeming feature Is that it made my daughters laugh until they needed to *** So it's a good job I didn't find it funny, As I'd have to take the whole thing off for such an act. Off to Oxfam with it. I hope it finds a loving home. I've made my mind up; not a onesie fan And besides, I sleep naked And have no need for a giant fleecy sack.

14

well... between listening to the INFO WARS ban... by the mainstream... and listening to Greig's perfecto in the hall of the mountain king... and john williams... london symphony orchestra for *the emperor's throne room scene*? youtube was always my testing alternative to ****** megastore listening booths... like replacing my ears with a tongue... i never actually tuned in on youtube, for the indie commentators... i was always there for the music... listening to these content creators, grovel a penny, like some Oxfam offshoot? not cool... i was always there for the foraging of music... never the commentaries... who said anything about the commentaries?! can't be bothered, won't be bothered, given that i've been doing this scribbling for over 10 years, and hven't been paid a barnado's penny... can't be ******* bothered, mate... burn in hell; at this point, you don't dictate, and... i don't tell you what you must do... welcome! free fall! oh no... like my english neighbor, he doesn't tell me when i can or can't light my barbeque... just so he can hang his washing! **** off! the only respected violence is that against private property rights... i'd cut his limbs off, and then hang him off in a noose composed of, his ******* tongue, the next time, he tells me i'm to inform him of when i do my next barbeque, prior to him doing his washing... PRIVATE... PROPERTY... RIGHTS... YOU ******* ENGLISH! **** nor king, nor Buckingham Palace janitor! **** OFF! you even know what itchy teeth implies? i beg to differ: you don't want to know, but i'll let you know; it implies a desire to own a pig farm; and we known what the economics of pork looks likes... now apply that in reverse, to hide, cannibalism.

0

Aug 10, 2018

Aug 10, 2018 at 11:13 PM UTC

removed.polaroid-scrabble

DA PURGE IZ 'ERE!

well... between listening to the INFO WARS ban... by the mainstream... and listening to Greig's perfecto in the hall of the mountain king... and john williams... london symphony orchestra for *the emperor's throne room scene*? youtube was always my testing alternative to ****** megastore listening booths... like replacing my ears with a tongue... i never actually tuned in on youtube, for the indie commentators... i was always there for the music... listening to these content creators, grovel a penny, like some Oxfam offshoot? not cool... i was always there for the foraging of music... never the commentaries... who said anything about the commentaries?! can't be bothered, won't be bothered, given that i've been doing this scribbling for over 10 years, and hven't been paid a barnado's penny... can't be ******* bothered, mate... burn in hell; at this point, you don't dictate, and... i don't tell you what you must do... welcome! free fall! oh no... like my english neighbor, he doesn't tell me when i can or can't light my barbeque... just so he can hang his washing! **** off! the only respected violence is that against private property rights... i'd cut his limbs off, and then hang him off in a noose composed of, his ******* tongue, the next time, he tells me i'm to inform him of when i do my next barbeque, prior to him doing his washing... PRIVATE... PROPERTY... RIGHTS... YOU ******* ENGLISH! **** nor king, nor Buckingham Palace janitor! **** OFF! you even know what itchy teeth implies? i beg to differ: you don't want to know, but i'll let you know; it implies a desire to own a pig farm; and we known what the economics of pork looks likes... now apply that in reverse, to hide, cannibalism.

74

I’m Oxfam clothed and head full of henna, he’s Age Concern dressed for less than a tenner. Does this make us rivals or more compatible? Anything’s possible now I’m out of hospital, picking his path oblivious to obstacles, catching him in an unguarded interval; he’s too hospitable to swerve my tentacles and I too intent on the prey. “What’s with the titfer?” I bubble up giggly, kissing his cheek and trying his trilby, holding his eyes – why should I feel guilty? If he’ll play Jesus lurking in Gethsemane then I’ll be Judas flirting with the enemy. Don’t say betrayal and the double agent, I’m just a female at my play station. He used to be nurse and I the patient, now we negotiate new relations. Aspiring to more of an equal footing I’ve climbed too high and abandoned hoodies, the dreary woollies, sackcloth and ashes, the words that stuck to my tongue like glue. Between heavy make-up and credit crashes I talk too naughty and hug too warmly – he must take his turn to be poorly, his turn to breathe in blue. In minutes the mood will be mellowing: I shall saxophone and cello him and proffer the charms of poor scarred arms, the burnt flesh of thighs and ******* this sin within my second-hand dress to caress his heart and capture him. Wind and string go enrapturing! Pull him close to the edge of the abyss – I want him to hang on my lips as I’ve hung so long on his.

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Mar 16, 2016

Mar 16, 2016 at 12:39 PM UTC

ray-miller

Henna

I’m Oxfam clothed and head full of henna, he’s Age Concern dressed for less than a tenner. Does this make us rivals or more compatible? Anything’s possible now I’m out of hospital, picking his path oblivious to obstacles, catching him in an unguarded interval; he’s too hospitable to swerve my tentacles and I too intent on the prey. “What’s with the titfer?” I bubble up giggly, kissing his cheek and trying his trilby, holding his eyes – why should I feel guilty? If he’ll play Jesus lurking in Gethsemane then I’ll be Judas flirting with the enemy. Don’t say betrayal and the double agent, I’m just a female at my play station. He used to be nurse and I the patient, now we negotiate new relations. Aspiring to more of an equal footing I’ve climbed too high and abandoned hoodies, the dreary woollies, sackcloth and ashes, the words that stuck to my tongue like glue. Between heavy make-up and credit crashes I talk too naughty and hug too warmly – he must take his turn to be poorly, his turn to breathe in blue. In minutes the mood will be mellowing: I shall saxophone and cello him and proffer the charms of poor scarred arms, the burnt flesh of thighs and ******* this sin within my second-hand dress to caress his heart and capture him. Wind and string go enrapturing! Pull him close to the edge of the abyss – I want him to hang on my lips as I’ve hung so long on his.

35

My tummy stood still; a statue of a stomach that paused as she passed by to get into the used bookshop line to pay for her basket of titles and authors I'd no idea existed, but I'd be willing to learn and read and not breathe until I had enlisted the use of Wikipedia to find out a one fact about each of them so to break the ice and breach that border of conversation, because I'd want to tell her in some Woody Allen way that her eyes were nice and that Cambridge could be ours tonight if she wanted to.

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Apr 21, 2014

Apr 21, 2014 at 2:28 PM UTC

tim-knight

OXFAM QUEUE

My tummy stood still; a statue of a stomach that paused as she passed by to get into the used bookshop line to pay for her basket of titles and authors I'd no idea existed, but I'd be willing to learn and read and not breathe until I had enlisted the use of Wikipedia to find out a one fact about each of them so to break the ice and breach that border of conversation, because I'd want to tell her in some Woody Allen way that her eyes were nice and that Cambridge could be ours tonight if she wanted to.

6

Your name has a bitter taste, like cologne. A muggy sweet scent that deceived me so easily. I always tried to spit it out, but the spray stuck fast to the roof of my mouth. Made me heady, heavy. Sleepy. I started nodding, going. Wake me up later, give me a month or two. Shake me when the sight of the back of you won't phase me. Shout when your eyes and your smile don't nauseate me. Please let me sleep off the feeling of losing again. Of everything slipping into the ocean, of my life crumbling and cracking open like old brick walls and peeling front doors and old wardrobes. I thought you could be that breath of fresh air I needed so badly, to come rushing in when the bell jar cracked open. But you weren't, you weren't anything special, you were an Oxfam shop bottle of cheap perfume.

0

Oct 12, 2016

Oct 12, 2016 at 1:45 PM UTC

molly-5

Toilet Water

Your name has a bitter taste, like cologne. A muggy sweet scent that deceived me so easily. I always tried to spit it out, but the spray stuck fast to the roof of my mouth. Made me heady, heavy. Sleepy. I started nodding, going. Wake me up later, give me a month or two. Shake me when the sight of the back of you won't phase me. Shout when your eyes and your smile don't nauseate me. Please let me sleep off the feeling of losing again. Of everything slipping into the ocean, of my life crumbling and cracking open like old brick walls and peeling front doors and old wardrobes. I thought you could be that breath of fresh air I needed so badly, to come rushing in when the bell jar cracked open. But you weren't, you weren't anything special, you were an Oxfam shop bottle of cheap perfume.

27

też masz mi do powiedzenia, jak niby włókło włókna szarosci sierści psa, dało skóre tą samą, godną, na ubiór człowieka! o tyle, tylko czy ten pies nie igra w psie zasady i maniery łyskotek ogona, a raczej: z krókiem w krok swego pana, na ilość kra kra ha ha! KRA! HA! bo sie barbarossa obudzi! potwory na wyspach! każdy murzyn to wie! tu nie ma społeczeństwa, tu nie ma nawet dialogu, kiedy mensch kochąjacy mensch jest w nad grobie ozora zakryty szambem, i chwyta brzytwy bo tonie nad dwóch tą krytyką! i tu ten upiór rady i wolności, niby, nagle opartym królem na tronie sracza, o! królestwo zwanem szambo! na typ repliki króla jana! jedna dziwa ulic uciekła bo powiedziałem rym henryka żon wedle idolizacji karola, pierwszy z czołem ścięty, drugi nie, a co trzeci? a tu nagle w gazele! *** raj car cajs, w ten rytmiczny bieg! hola hoop! *** tsar cajs! ona w bieg! no, pięć minut wykorzystane dla brygady oxfam.

0

Mar 25, 2016

Mar 25, 2016 at 8:14 PM UTC

removed.polaroid-scrabble

potwory!

też masz mi do powiedzenia, jak niby włókło włókna szarosci sierści psa, dało skóre tą samą, godną, na ubiór człowieka! o tyle, tylko czy ten pies nie igra w psie zasady i maniery łyskotek ogona, a raczej: z krókiem w krok swego pana, na ilość kra kra ha ha! KRA! HA! bo sie barbarossa obudzi! potwory na wyspach! każdy murzyn to wie! tu nie ma społeczeństwa, tu nie ma nawet dialogu, kiedy mensch kochąjacy mensch jest w nad grobie ozora zakryty szambem, i chwyta brzytwy bo tonie nad dwóch tą krytyką! i tu ten upiór rady i wolności, niby, nagle opartym królem na tronie sracza, o! królestwo zwanem szambo! na typ repliki króla jana! jedna dziwa ulic uciekła bo powiedziałem rym henryka żon wedle idolizacji karola, pierwszy z czołem ścięty, drugi nie, a co trzeci? a tu nagle w gazele! *** raj car cajs, w ten rytmiczny bieg! hola hoop! *** tsar cajs! ona w bieg! no, pięć minut wykorzystane dla brygady oxfam.

23

*and those white teeth... uh! they just scream ****** northern americans make drinking so much easier, sure, i drink **** brain cells and get ******** ever too often, resurrect Al Capone for me... but why do they make it so much easier? they're hiking, biking, kite surfing, climbing mount Unesco... cheerleaders of Kenya or something? i need models for an Oxfam advert... ******* starve! starve! to the Ukrainian prisons with you! starve! it all goes for bureaucracy anyway, the adverts are just the tip, and it's a gimmick-berg. whatever the advert stated and a Moroccan added, like some Seattle sandwich mixture for gummy gummy yummy yum - twigs n' bubblegum; or condoms... i'm not sure; ha ha!

0

Jun 19, 2016

Jun 19, 2016 at 7:55 PM UTC

removed.polaroid-scrabble

ha ha!

*and those white teeth... uh! they just scream ****** northern americans make drinking so much easier, sure, i drink **** brain cells and get ******** ever too often, resurrect Al Capone for me... but why do they make it so much easier? they're hiking, biking, kite surfing, climbing mount Unesco... cheerleaders of Kenya or something? i need models for an Oxfam advert... ******* starve! starve! to the Ukrainian prisons with you! starve! it all goes for bureaucracy anyway, the adverts are just the tip, and it's a gimmick-berg. whatever the advert stated and a Moroccan added, like some Seattle sandwich mixture for gummy gummy yummy yum - twigs n' bubblegum; or condoms... i'm not sure; ha ha!

22

MR. E. A. POE AND I IN THE OXFAM BOOKSHOP GUILDFORD. ( to the glorious Mr. S. ) One has only to enter the shop and the books start talking to one in the voice of their author. "Death looks gigantically down..." Ahhh Mr. E.A. Poe is it your self so it is. Jeremiah something something or other whispers to me in its Biblical way: "Because of the ground which is dismayed..." All the books eager for the good home of a mind like mine jumping up and down like puppies in a pet shop how can I leave one behind. "For the poor benefit of a bewildering minute?" Even as I depart with all the treasures I have found tucked under my arm a voice calls to me: "Com to a mountayne and found therein nobody . .." but I am back on the street with "My City in the Sea." Thomas Heywood's words still ringing in my ears: "O God! O God! that it were possible To undo things undone: to call back yesterday. . ."

0

Dec 21, 2018

Dec 21, 2018 at 10:21 AM UTC

donall-dempsey

MR. E.A. POE AND I IN THE OXFAM BOOKSHOP GUILDFORD. ( to the glorious Mr. S. )

MR. E. A. POE AND I IN THE OXFAM BOOKSHOP GUILDFORD. ( to the glorious Mr. S. ) One has only to enter the shop and the books start talking to one in the voice of their author. "Death looks gigantically down..." Ahhh Mr. E.A. Poe is it your self so it is. Jeremiah something something or other whispers to me in its Biblical way: "Because of the ground which is dismayed..." All the books eager for the good home of a mind like mine jumping up and down like puppies in a pet shop how can I leave one behind. "For the poor benefit of a bewildering minute?" Even as I depart with all the treasures I have found tucked under my arm a voice calls to me: "Com to a mountayne and found therein nobody . .." but I am back on the street with "My City in the Sea." Thomas Heywood's words still ringing in my ears: "O God! O God! that it were possible To undo things undone: to call back yesterday. . ."

44

nietzsche the prophet, a man coukd never begin an anti-nihilist mein kampf having written this... or anything akin to this... he'd be busy, off, doing some plumbing... as i could be off... doing some industrial scale roofing... or some Bogart of a chemistry stature... nihilism? doesn't surprise me... the point of the mood swings? i've moved way, way past nihilism... no paragraph... **** must be "poetry"... or someone saying: well... here's to saving the Amazonian printing press... so.... me less a nihilist, me more a fatalist... and i pray to god for no requisite of entertaining redemption... will i be one of those black kids in an OXFAM adverts drinking ***** water? counter-culture counter-the-concept-of-fame... had i the ambitions to provoke a people to a collective will via a proverb... amitions of fame ended... when aspirations of pedantry set in. harold norse appreciated this fact, having the patience to investigate Greece.

0

Feb 20, 2019

Feb 20, 2019 at 7:26 PM UTC

removed.polaroid-scrabble

nietzsche the prophet

nietzsche the prophet, a man coukd never begin an anti-nihilist mein kampf having written this... or anything akin to this... he'd be busy, off, doing some plumbing... as i could be off... doing some industrial scale roofing... or some Bogart of a chemistry stature... nihilism? doesn't surprise me... the point of the mood swings? i've moved way, way past nihilism... no paragraph... **** must be "poetry"... or someone saying: well... here's to saving the Amazonian printing press... so.... me less a nihilist, me more a fatalist... and i pray to god for no requisite of entertaining redemption... will i be one of those black kids in an OXFAM adverts drinking ***** water? counter-culture counter-the-concept-of-fame... had i the ambitions to provoke a people to a collective will via a proverb... amitions of fame ended... when aspirations of pedantry set in. harold norse appreciated this fact, having the patience to investigate Greece.

44