"sobeys" poems
Outta sight, outta mind. An eye for an eye.
Walmart, Sobeys obey the ****** man
Circled up family clan
Noises from a familiar land
Castles of torture for our souls
Silver, Gold, and Mercury, and
Plutonium, Sodium, Potassium mold
On stands held tight by weakening hands
They lead you along a path far away from
Truth locked away in the Promise Land.
Up in our heads, in our thoughts, the higher self
will lead the way, Never to be left on a shelf
Take it down for daily dissection
Self-Righteous freedom of introspection
Mothersoul sitting on the ties of the railroad,
Looking down the path to his homeland.
Birdys and net turkey stuffing you can bet.
Dec 5, 2011
Dec 5, 2011 at 8:16 PM UTC
The French language to you, was little more than an inheritance
It was the promise between mother and daughter that a grandchild ought to know the language they used
In Bonnyville, they occupy the church, the Sobeys, the liquor store with that butchered accent
The hybrid between Quebecois French and rural Albertan English - ugly, and indecisive
You don’t live in Bonnyville, where the French roam free
The French in Edmonton feels lost, almost unknown
Poorly funded buildings house these Franco-albertans - children with the same inheritance as you
Immersion becomes a ***** word,
worthy of contempt and disgust
All the French kids know each other,
forced to grow up together while being deprived of options
They all go to the same university - the small francophone campus which stands unimpressive in the only neighbourhood in Edmonton where stop signs say ‘arrêt’
Oil Country, home for the right and prosperous, they don’t like you
You, you’re Francophone -
Stuck up, snobby, pretentious...
Besides, there are no such things as Franco-albertans.
What could you be other than an invented term by some lost souls?
You aren’t French enough -
Alberta is an English speaking province.
The time you went to France,
someone asked if you were French-Canadian
Before you could reply, your friends spun your story - something believable, commendable...
your parents, lived in Montreal, and moved to Alberta with their wholly French children
Your father grew up in Edmonton,
memorizing the parks and malls by name
while your mother lived on a dairy farm, living in french - the ugly acadienesque french.
But, to everyone around you, it’s much more believable that you are a stranger to this province.
Maybe you are.
Sep 14, 2019
Sep 14, 2019 at 12:38 PM UTC