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"proda" poems
Who is she Why O why do you call her name every night when you are asleep, ''Who is she''? why do you love her so much that you cannot eat, ''Who is she''? Why does she get to travel with you all around the world, but its me you show off to your family and friends because you said that im your pearl! No one has ever seen this lady, why do you keep her a secret, Who is she''? she’s maxing out your credit cards with expensive gifts, yes! I’ve seen the bills at the end of the month. Your taking her shopping at Proda, Gucci ,Juicy Couture and jimmy chue stores, ''Who is she'' You aint never took me to those places I respect this Trick cause she’s getting money and gifts that I don’t even get. Baby im dying inside who is she?   Why do you love her more? Is she better in bed? Where is she from? Is she beautiful? People I love this man with all my heart, he completes me, he is the ying to my yang, the apple of my eye, He was my African King but when that ***** came along all I ever hear when he falls asleep is... Diamond! Diamond! Diamond! Who  the hell is diamond?  '' Who is she''?  You call her diamond and call me pearl. Diamonds are a girls best friend, I wonder why I couldn’t I get a name like that, I know why cause im second best. I came home early from work one Tuesday afternoon feeling sick and tired of that stressful place call a j.o.b , When I opened the door and entered the living room I smelt sweet, sweet perfume I followed the scent and it led to the bedroom but the door was closed, The sounds of Luther Vandros played in the back ground ( Music Plays  If only for one night)……. I said to myself I caught this ***** Mad as hell im walking up and down in the living room, wondering if I should bust in on him.   The good part of me said I couldn’t take seeing with another woman don’t open that door and the bad part of me said do it girl do it Do it girl do it! Then I heard him say to her what’s my name! Whats my name! and she screamed to the tip of her voice Jesus! Jesus! I fell to my knees burning up inside, heartbroken, tears flowing, saying why does it hurt so bad. Then I got up off my knees and opened the door, before I could look up I looked down rose petals everywhere. Then I saw my African King doing his thing and I said O **** O **** (Pause). And that is when I realized that the proda wearing, Gucci faring sweet o sweet smelling lady was a …Proda wearing, Gucci faring, sweet, sweet, smelling  ….. Man! Written by- Shakela Donnet Storr
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Jul 1, 2011
Jul 1, 2011 at 12:22 PM UTC
shakela-storr
Who is she
Who is she Why O why do you call her name every night when you are asleep, ''Who is she''? why do you love her so much that you cannot eat, ''Who is she''? Why does she get to travel with you all around the world, but its me you show off to your family and friends because you said that im your pearl! No one has ever seen this lady, why do you keep her a secret, Who is she''? she’s maxing out your credit cards with expensive gifts, yes! I’ve seen the bills at the end of the month. Your taking her shopping at Proda, Gucci ,Juicy Couture and jimmy chue stores, ''Who is she'' You aint never took me to those places I respect this Trick cause she’s getting money and gifts that I don’t even get. Baby im dying inside who is she?   Why do you love her more? Is she better in bed? Where is she from? Is she beautiful? People I love this man with all my heart, he completes me, he is the ying to my yang, the apple of my eye, He was my African King but when that ***** came along all I ever hear when he falls asleep is... Diamond! Diamond! Diamond! Who  the hell is diamond?  '' Who is she''?  You call her diamond and call me pearl. Diamonds are a girls best friend, I wonder why I couldn’t I get a name like that, I know why cause im second best. I came home early from work one Tuesday afternoon feeling sick and tired of that stressful place call a j.o.b , When I opened the door and entered the living room I smelt sweet, sweet perfume I followed the scent and it led to the bedroom but the door was closed, The sounds of Luther Vandros played in the back ground ( Music Plays  If only for one night)……. I said to myself I caught this ***** Mad as hell im walking up and down in the living room, wondering if I should bust in on him.   The good part of me said I couldn’t take seeing with another woman don’t open that door and the bad part of me said do it girl do it Do it girl do it! Then I heard him say to her what’s my name! Whats my name! and she screamed to the tip of her voice Jesus! Jesus! I fell to my knees burning up inside, heartbroken, tears flowing, saying why does it hurt so bad. Then I got up off my knees and opened the door, before I could look up I looked down rose petals everywhere. Then I saw my African King doing his thing and I said O **** O **** (Pause). And that is when I realized that the proda wearing, Gucci faring sweet o sweet smelling lady was a …Proda wearing, Gucci faring, sweet, sweet, smelling  ….. Man! Written by- Shakela Donnet Storr
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L'ultima cicala stride sulla scorza gialla dell'eucalipto i bambini raccolgono pinòli indispensabili per la galantina un cane alano urla dall'inferriata di una villa ormai disabitata le ville furono costruite dai padri ma i figli non le hanno volute ci sarebbe spazio per centomila terremotati di qui non si vede nemmeno la proda se può chiamarsi cosí quell'ottanta per cento ceduta in uso ai bagnini e sarebbe eccessivo pretendervi una pace alcionica il mare è d'altronde infestato mentre i rifiuti in totale formano ondulate collinette plastiche esaurite le siepi hanno avuto lo sfratto i deliziosi figli della ruggine gli scriccioli o reatini come spesso li citano i poeti. E c'è anche qualche boccio di magnolia l'etichetta di un pediatra ma qui i bambini volano in bicicletta e non hanno bisogno delle sue cure Chi vuole respirare a grandi zaffate la musa del nostro tempo la precarietà può passare di qui senza affrettarsi è il colpo secco quello che fa orrore non già l'evanescenza il dolce afflato del nulla Hic manebimus se vi piace non proprio ottimamente ma il meglio sarebbe troppo simile alla morte ( e questa piace solo ai giovani)
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Eugenio Montale
Al mare (o quasi)
L'ultima cicala stride sulla scorza gialla dell'eucalipto i bambini raccolgono pinòli indispensabili per la galantina un cane alano urla dall'inferriata di una villa ormai disabitata le ville furono costruite dai padri ma i figli non le hanno volute ci sarebbe spazio per centomila terremotati di qui non si vede nemmeno la proda se può chiamarsi cosí quell'ottanta per cento ceduta in uso ai bagnini e sarebbe eccessivo pretendervi una pace alcionica il mare è d'altronde infestato mentre i rifiuti in totale formano ondulate collinette plastiche esaurite le siepi hanno avuto lo sfratto i deliziosi figli della ruggine gli scriccioli o reatini come spesso li citano i poeti. E c'è anche qualche boccio di magnolia l'etichetta di un pediatra ma qui i bambini volano in bicicletta e non hanno bisogno delle sue cure Chi vuole respirare a grandi zaffate la musa del nostro tempo la precarietà può passare di qui senza affrettarsi è il colpo secco quello che fa orrore non già l'evanescenza il dolce afflato del nulla Hic manebimus se vi piace non proprio ottimamente ma il meglio sarebbe troppo simile alla morte ( e questa piace solo ai giovani)
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