"woolies" poems
1
My mother would say:
“Little boy Raj…
Go to Muthu’s
and get some
cinnamon, betel leaves
and ginger and garlic”
And so I go to the shops
singing all the way
and when Muthu asks me
what I’d want
I rattle off a list:
“Sesame seeds, onions
tomatoes and pickles”
And back home,
Mother twists my ears
Ouch!
2
And inevitably I grew up
and inevitably I got married
and inevitably my wife says to me:
“Dear husband whom
I married in a fire-ceremony;
could you kindly go to Woolies
and get me some
flour, castor sugar,
pepper, pasta sauce and pancakes…”
And so I drive to Woolies
singing all the way;
and walking down the aisles
I throw the following
into the trolley:
cinnamon, betel leaves
and ginger and garlic…
And back home
though my wife does not twist my ears
I feel Mother reach forward
from the other world
and she twists my ears
Ouch!
Sep 30, 2010
Sep 30, 2010 at 4:03 AM UTC
we'm from the valleys,
high in wales,
dull as donkeys,
hard as nails.
torvaen town,blaenavon gwent,
council caves,that some pay rent.
black and white tellys,
run on gas,
houses wiv lectric,is upper class.
we shoplift in winter,
cos summers no good,
you can't wear coats,
you can't wear hoods.
we once mined coal,
made steel and iron,
honest hardmen,
pittance relied on.
now thats all gone,
thro government bullies,
now hoodies steal goodies,
from tesco and woolies.
valley boy logic,
philosophy real,
all good fings come.
....to those who steal.
Feb 24, 2010
Feb 24, 2010 at 9:58 AM UTC
silly kids oh silly kids are so stupid kids, asking me, the wrong person to be put in a team
oh yeah i was coming out of woolies with my chocolate and my drinks
and the kids asked me to sign them up for the magpies
just because i had a magpies t shirt on
he was a poor poor kid, whose parents don’t give a **** about him
but really i don’t know how i can help him
because he wanted to play footy, well, what boy doesn’t
well, probably he is teasing me, but i think he is a poor kid suffering
under, tony, fucken abbotts, wing
and this kid needs to be given a go, but i think he was weird ya see
because i am just the bbq man, and i have no authority to put him in a team
i love life, and i hate men who bully, any kind of bullying
i don’t want to get bullied, I’m just want to do my art
and eat chicken wings, and go on outings with people i know
i hate what the young dudes used to say to me, they were horrible
to me, i was a nice person, never put a foot wrong
that kid was under a spell from tony abbott or ronnie biggs and ted bunny
yeah it could be cosmic, or he might really want to play for the magpies
magpies club there is a kid on hawker who wants to play for the club
ok dudes give him a go 4 it
Mar 7, 2015
Mar 7, 2015 at 1:51 AM UTC
Frustration I can understand,
Devastation I cannot bear,
King saw the promised land,
In the dream that we all share.
Tear that falls or persevere,
Across the land of ‘opportunity’,
Where do we go from here?
Chaos or community?
We sat through hate in Woolies,
Walked past Birmingham’s barks,
Rose a people ravished in slavery,
Yet in this stand tarnish Parks.
Voices are clearer than crackles of fire,
Change must be built peace by peace,
Though I know the situation is dire,
One must show beauty to tame the beast.
We will never see the coming of the lord,
Through the suffocating smoke, of the horde.
Jul 14, 2020
Jul 14, 2020 at 7:10 PM UTC
I
thought when
I first wrote
Poetry
it was
the release of
Woe
in me,
but for awhile
I
see my
style and who
I
write for
my audience of
One,
but,
Bullies,
pull the woolies
over eyes that sheepishly
turn away, look away, look away,
I had a teacher once who that
thought by giving me D's and
E's in English and jokingly
add in front of the class...
"Hey Elverum you got one
of your two initials, wanna
hazard a guess?"
When I was in
the Army,
had an MWO,
who was nick
named the Wicked
Witch of the West,
as his features
made you feel
like Dorothy, in
the Land of Oz
and because "there's no place like home"
"there's no place like home"
"there's no place like home"
So
it is
with sad attention
I
see there
is a bully
Here,
here, said
the judge, jury
So
there should
be, because poetry
Is
not about
the freedom of
Expression,
through speech,
it is about
Grading
and wizardry
and being numero
Uno
a legend
in his own
Mind
my manners
mind my tongue
Words
that are
spit like salvo's
Not
marshmallow's with
hard hearted centres
Poetry
is meant
to be read
If
I ask
for your critique
Would
you send
me a bill
Or
just your
ill will, toxins
Instill
your commanding
presence on the
Young
and the
new, who dare
To
bad mouth
you, your just
One,
how does
it feel to
be
so alone
like the sound
of
one hand
clapping as you
dashed
another soul
to the rocks
below
the belt
with svelte wit
But
alas, I
only write for
An
audience of
one, you ain't
IT.
Apr 28, 2015
Apr 28, 2015 at 1:57 AM UTC
a wodge uh Wrigley’s
‘ard an knobbly on thuh underside
uh desks
shufflin’ tuh DJ Caspar
in thuh ‘all
unduh thuh gaze uh
year three’s
it were
packed lunches,
dislodging mi brace
from thuh roof of mi mouth
like extractin’ a tooth,
scoffin’ bars uh white chocolate
years-old Blu-Tack
stamped black intuh carpets,
grey plastic-y chairs,
writin’ learnin’ objectives,
underlinin’ dates
with shatterproof rulers,
I upgraded tuh a pen
in year four
same time
remember listenin’ on the radio
in Scottish Clark’s mobile
when it wuh Ingland v Brazil,
summer uh ‘02,
thuh likes of Sheringham, Beckham
in audio only, no picture,
and thuh TA came in
‘alfway throo a lesson,
said ‘we’re out’
and the time
I cort that cricket ball,
dived and it stung mi hand,
a crimson-drizzled palm,
throbbin’ ring
and the time
we played football wi’ tennis *****
and I blurted intuh a trio
uh eager classmates,
a tumble-shirt compote,
knee flecked wi’ grit, mi own spit,
skinny whispers uh blood
and thuh time
I plagiarised Potter
around Azkaban,
got a Woolies notebook,
ragged Pritt-Sticked cuttins’
of Watson in the pink ‘oodie,
but it wuh the seed
for thuh next decade and more,
standin’ up,
tellin’ a story,
somethin’ or othuh
Oct 13, 2017
Oct 13, 2017 at 2:47 PM UTC