"pidgin" poems
Hard work no be money,
Make you ask the man wey dey push trolley,
Sun, and rain, beat am tire,
Until the day wey him go retire.
*Nigerian pidgin english
Jun 20, 2013
Jun 20, 2013 at 6:40 AM UTC
When I was just a little lad
I never knew my mom and dad
My big brother was my hero.
He raised Pidgins as a hobby.
One day he upped and promised me
a pidgin of my own. Oh goody.
One day a storm blew into town and blew his pidgin
coop aground.
The sole survivor of the storm was one pathetic squab.
Here little brother says my sib.He's yours.
so I fed him,and built a nest for him, and
hugged him, and pet him, and loved him.
He was me and I was he my little buddy Pete.
and every day I wouldn't stop to play but run
home to my Pete. Oh my brother George is my hero.
One day I ran home to my Pete and found no sign of him.
I asked George where my Pete boy was. He said he had no clue.
I found out later That sum-bitch sold Pete.
That rat ******* sold my pidgin.
Sep 27, 2012
Sep 27, 2012 at 4:05 AM UTC
Iym onna mishon forra gerl
krossing China jus to si her
ona slo chrayn going west
krossing mouwntins in my kot.
Shis onna mishon for tha boi
fly eirchina for to si mi
bundling legings inna bag
wot to bring and wot to not
bring your person bring your boots
spanix boots and spanix wyn
put your bodi in this plays
taiwan boox and qinese wyn
i wil sit heer lyk an ox
wayting unda shaydi tri
wayting hyuman wil tu find me
pat my **** and skweez my ni
qyneez wyn
qyneez wyn
wyn in qyneez
qyneez wyn
pump my rat and wyn qyneez
shaydi tri with pengyou lao
thingking hyuman tu gud tu mi
wy *** look for stinki kao
Mar 20, 2012
Mar 20, 2012 at 8:47 PM UTC
I was about eight
and i could speak three
Nigerian languages,
especially pidgin.
Every sunday, i recall, my mother
would bless my stomach with nicely cooked native dishes.
Then, the Nigerian
football matches in the evening with my father was a sight too exhilarating to miss.
My school years was eventful
has i received a whole lot of flogging.
The only clothings i had
asides undergarments
were all native attires.
Some admired it, Others didnt.
I honestly was not bothered.
Now, i'm serving my country
in the army, which frankly is fulfilling for me.
No matter how bad Nigeria gets,
i'll always be proud of it.
Feb 28, 2014
Feb 28, 2014 at 11:47 AM UTC
CREOLE PIDGIN ENGLISH
wetin de call dis, wetin you go call dis
oyinbo com tiffy tiffy from ma yard
I no trouble yam, I no go knock on dem fer notin
but oyinbo an dem pally com de burglarise ma hice
you hear me so!
I say oyinbo com de steal from me home
Dem be thieves tiffing all over de compound
an when I go say why you tiff about the place
oyinbo tiffs them tell me I go be the *** whey go suffer
See palava see how dem de treat black people
in dem country.
If I go steal from oyinbos, na ma *** dem go trow in jail
yet for dem town, dem com steal your property
and when you go talk they slap you down
Dem go make me loose ma bread, loose ma woman
Dem spoil ma name, them abuse me
Dem tell al kinna lies against me
Dem make nonsense stories and fabu abot me
Dem harass me, discredit and disprofit me oh!
Dem become tomenters, dem say dem go drive me crazy
dem go ruin ma life, dem go make me sik in da head
And heavens know i never trouble any persons
I never put ma feet in anybody house to steal
I never see this kin ting before
where you go do wrong and destroy him whey he do no wrong
Dis is what dem do here now, make you people know
I no fit work, I no fit go anywhere without oyinbo and him
pally dem follow and harass ma *** dem say dem want me dead
Dead for stealing from me, dead for me doing notin wrong
an them feel proud for all dem de do, dem feel right for wrong
De kin wickedness whey devil himself no fit do, dem don do
And I swear before man an God, dem go get their retributions
Every single one of dem whey involve
God go punish dem
God go bring the chaos of hell on dem
God go mash dem up like dem mash ma life
Except God no be God an tru an real
Dem are evil people and evil will claim every single one of dem
who do dis to ma innocence.
Peoples wherefer you be, wherefef you go, make you know
That in london der are evil oyinbo thiffs dere
an them go steal and destroy your life if you talk
I beg jus pray for me, dem want me dead
Dem want blood.
De blood of an inoncent man who never trouble anybody
dem de make mockery of me now
Dem de call me Modern day Jesus....
An by de Grace of de real Jesus Christ
Each an every one of dem who hav made me suffa
Will get dem just reward, I wait on the Lord
He is a tru an just God and Him say
Vengeance is mine...
Sep 13, 2018
Sep 13, 2018 at 11:40 PM UTC
In the beginning
there is a class
of creatures we call Gods
that much later
we realize are just mono-
instances of god.
From the tower
I babble tongues,
coded messages and ciphers
that you implement
in your daily rituals
and obsessive behaviors.
In R, it's something like,
christ <- god(moral compass)
In Ruby it could be
buddha = God.new
And perhaps a nihilist or we
would find happiness in
10000.times do
pushRock = buhdda.take(me)
end
It's all pidgin for me,
unstructured glimpses at a world
that's moving and changing
faster than my non-existent
grandson can comprehend.
It's all a network
of +1 and like'd
firing mix media,
reinforcing a nascent
thought stream,
back-propagating our legends
and fairy tales, Grimm
reminders of epic Odyssey |
5 Armies in film |
Warring States |
loping dog with a severed hand
in Akira black & white mouth
repossessing Spaghetti Westerns
back into our feudal *****
Fire, firing
into the Monsoon rain.
Always in the Hemingway
rain of symbols and Matrix
green code.
And in my cupped hand,
I catch glimmering fireflies,
instances of Gaiman's
American gods, Tricksters,
Coyotes, and my faithful
Dog smiling at me.
Jan 4, 2015
Jan 4, 2015 at 2:12 PM UTC
iron bars on windows
cheapest radiowave loud from loudspeakers
in smoking room
spreading
nonstop most tasteless songs
shouts, giggling and whispers and cries
mixed in the air
swallowing ugly pills under severe control of ugly sanitarian
pills from which you become weak, weary and zombies-like
to not commit suicide is not allowed
to keep glass bottles
no laptop allowed
10 minutes walk a day
and this only with attendance of
medical personal
stupid graffities on the walls of toilets and
smoking room
scarying
anything about punishment of ******* god
surely made not by patients
but belong to „estimated inventary“
the most horror procedure
is doctor visit at every morn
for so-called conversation
you, even not obsessed with suicide
would wish to hang yourself
from unability to cut doc' s throat
so spoke Antonin Artaud
who spent 9years in closed insane asylum in France
while Ezra Pound spent over 12 years in Washington D.C. Mental ward
me spent „only“ 6 months
but i pretty sure that this joy is worse than
be locked in jail
where you at least know what a ******* crime you supposed to commit
me unemployed dadaist was locked by catching by police spraying graffity
in Berlin, which called „FREE PIDGIN!“
reason enough to being diagnosed and
poisoned by legal drugs
we live indeed in society where freedom of speech rules
haha
it was modest trial to tell literally of the darkest terror: loony bin
Dec 18, 2013
Dec 18, 2013 at 4:12 PM UTC
nestled in its comfortable corner of the marsh,
lays nine-thousand acres of soggy southern soil and sweetgrass.
here the hands of the clock carelessly play a lazy leapfrog
as tranquil transformations of pidgin make for musing murmurs.
the clangor of crickets lulling the weary ears to sleep,
as nocturnal creatures nimbly parade over placid, brackish water.
rotting wood stilts sink softly into the not-exactly-quicksand,
the last ferry makes a wake while winding to the next *******
father time is in no hurry here.
Jul 26, 2015
Jul 26, 2015 at 8:28 PM UTC
Do you know,
Every time i go on facebook,
Im looking for traces of you?
Every time i go on instagram,
Im looking for a picture,
that shows your life.
Im looking ,
Searching for evidence.
I know i will see you tomorrow,
But tomorrow can never come slower.
Its like getting homesick,
An emptiness,
A void i need to fill.
And i feel that sometimes
i don't know what i should do.
Should i look for you to fill me,
Or stitch myself up?
Because its never certain,
I feel like im always guessing.
Did i say the right thing?
Did i look okay?
Did i scare him off yet?
Because so many have already left,
But they weren't even mine.
So instead of embarrassing myself,
Humiliated,
By the unreturned feelings,
I will remain in the corner.
I will stay in the safety of silence.
Not the sound of silence,
Because i talk a lot,
But the feeling.
Words with no meaning behind them.
A present,
wrapped in pretty pink paper,
And when you open it,
It's empty.
Even though you may try to pull me out,
You may try to give me that gift,
I may never try to open it.
Not because i didn't want to.
Its because i didn't know it was there.
And i see the other girls.
They swoon to you.
Its like when you feed pidgins in a park,
And your holding the seed.
I don't know why your still here.
I don't know why,
you chose the one pidgin,
Who cant fly.
So thats why i hide.
Thats why i stare at screens,
Instead of into your eyes.
Im scared.
Im scared you will find some flaw,
Find one of my many imperfections.
Yet you treat me,
With the sweetest of words.
And don't know how to react.
And those words fill me.
Yet the satisfaction leaves.
It runs scared,
just like i imagine you will,
Because of my reaction.
My stupid blurted out response.
It doesn't compare.
You are a much kinder,
Gentler,
Beautiful,
Creature.
Inside and out.
I paint on my beauty.
My response,
doesn't reflect my affection towards you,
I want to show it.
Desperately.
But i have put up this armor for so long,
Its hard for me to break it down.
But i want to.
Desperately.
And one day,
I hope i will.
May 14, 2014
May 14, 2014 at 8:28 PM UTC
A politician with a radio
and a fridge with a ****
as he spoke pidgin
and dapper the reason
that captured a signal
but stayed the season
'twas a gowan too
in stead brown hair
as a bride in favor
yet deposed his table
though a granita now
will disguise his inference
yet detest his deference
in ridge there a pidgeon
flew his message away
and pearly was his religion
Mar 7, 2017
Mar 7, 2017 at 11:55 AM UTC
An addendum to 2013 HP poem
"The Road to One Chicken"
with 37,000 "Public" reads.
She was there again, a vision.
Slow walking with assured purpose
and grace not seen in most women
of any age, barefoot or in sandals.
Mainland restrictive shoes unknown,
and not required by her. A free spirit
exhibiting nary a hint of artifice,
a natural unaffected beauty.
Wind fluttering her long dark hair
like a flag atop the mast of a sleet
schooner upon a gentle rolling sea.
A Tahitian girl barely 20 walking
beside me, on a dirt road, by the
vibrant blue Ocean, holding my
hand and smiling.
Not having a common language
our eyes, some pidgin talk and
gestures conveyed all that was
needed. We loved one another
for a few days and nights, and
then too soon I departed as crew
on a sloop bound for Bora Bora,
while she remained happily
behind on her beautiful island.
Both this girl and her island
tenderly vividly remembered,
for over 50 years.
Some impressions last forever.
Unlike myself, she remains young
and vibrant evermore, a benevolent
ghost memory dream only appearing
at night and always assuredly welcome.
Dec 11, 2023
Dec 11, 2023 at 5:20 PM UTC
“She is clothed in strength and dignity”
yet society views her completely differently
A refusal to see her as an equal human being
To be punished for simply disagreeing
“She laughs without fear of the future”
yet society fills her head with words that abuse her
words to degrade her are everyday nouns
the only lesson society has taught her is to conceal her breakdowns
how is a little girl supposed to continue to grow,
when society has already planned her future to plateau
“she opens her mouth in wisdom”
yet society disregards her opinions as just plain dumb
she is unable to speak her own thoughts ‘due to religion’
but society is writing a new bible and calling it a pidgin
“and the teaching of kindness is on her tongue”
yet society doesn’t let her speak, thus her merciful words remain unsung
she could be used as a resplendent virtue towards peacemaking
and their refusal to let her preach is heartbreaking
“she looks well to the ways of her household”
yet everything about her humble abode has run cold
her daughters restricted to a life identical to hers,
her sons taught to be the paradoxical abusers
“and does not eat the bread of idleness”
yet when she does anything other than demanded,
she becomes associated with unrighteousness
she could grow and blossom to aid the earth
but society diminishes any of her self-worth
Mar 31, 2021
Mar 31, 2021 at 5:47 PM UTC