Wednesday, January 14, 2015
Someone to
be there
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
then, I had some others … slurp!
I make a toast to Mom and Dad, … hic!
then to my three brothers. … slurp!
Decide I need Jack, … hiccup 1!
to set me on the road, … hiccup 2!
if I keep going on like this, … hiccup 3!
I’ll be drunker than a toad. … hehehe!
Now I’m propping up the bar … burp!
my winds caught up with me. … burp!
Oh bloody hell, and cross my legs … fart!
I need to go and pee. … burp, fart… whoops!
Stagger to my left, … giggling!
sway to my right, … still giggling!
I think if I fall down, … giggling even more!
I’ll be here for the night. … Nearly … piddling!
There’s a stupid smile upon my face, … grinning!
my hair’s askew and all, … smiling!
Leaning hard against the sink, … squirming!
and trying not to fall. … got it!… ahhhhh!
Oh what sweet relief … oh yes!
now I need a hug … oh yes please!
I got rid of all that beer … oh yes please another!
but forgot to pull the plug! ... joking of course!
T
Monday, November 2, 2009
LIFE IN THE FAST LANE
I always thought that life in the fast lane
Was intended to portray the better side of living
But something struck me deep the other day
Some people in the fast lane live in a different way.
Black African roads crowded with traffic
To use Nigerian slang a traffic jam is a ‘go slow’
Vehicles stretch for mile after humid mile
It’s not often you’ll see a driver smile.
Transport battles side by side no inch given
Horns blaring even when there is no chance of anyone moving
Decrepit buses carrying bodies crammed inside
Some place to go, but no place to hide.
Young boys and old men - roadside hawkers plying their trade
Running races between the clogged up lanes
Trying to sell you anything you might need
Propelled in their quest for the cash that will feed.
There is another type of predator out there too
The roadside thugs who will rob and kill
Don’t expect others to extend their assistance
Life is too precious; you’ll be killed for interference.
Other inhabitants frequent the highways too
The maimed and the poor beg at your windows
Legless men on wooden boards with wheels
Can move faster than the traffic shouting their appeals.
Woman and baby both dressed in stinking rags
Wander aimlessly between the cars, eyes stareing
Baby is sucking on an empty breast, no nourishment there
Nobody seems to give a damn and nobody seems to care.
Life in a Nigerian motorway fast lane is not a picnic
People seek to make a living, they want to survive
Driven on by despair and a life that is miles apart from our own
Geared into poverty where hope for a better life is unknown.
Tony
26/2/01
Friday, October 16, 2009
Our daily bread
Some days my compassion I do dread
Especially as I go for my daily bread
When I go to the bakers, the best in town
It always gives me cause to frown
The beggars are there outside the door
Just the same as the day before
Both are crippled, both are lame
They’re here every day come wind or rain
Thousands must pass through the baker each week
The begging business is very sleek
There is nothing to give and no need for fashion
Their work is performed on your compassion
For Market Positioning they get top score
If I had more points I’d give them more
The phantom dagger is sunk to the hilt
As they make their strike against your guilt
A Business Strategy that’s hard to beat
They catch you there, right there on the street
They’ve no overheads and no rent to pay
And who can levy taxes on what they make every day?
Their Business Development is not very hard
The baker’s reputation is their key card
No need to keep stocks standing by
The beggar’s customers have nothing to buy
It’s very obvious and very plain
Both have suffered a great deal of pain
For After-Sales Service give them ten from ten
I know they’ll be there when I go again
They won’t ask as you step from the car
Their approach is more sophisticated by far
They know you are here to buy some food
If you ignore them after, you’re bound to feel rude
The begging’s not open, it’s more succinct
As they come to know you, it’s usually a wink
An outstretched hand to bid you Good Day
is always there to take your money away.
“Give us this day our daily bread”
Is what the Lord’s Prayer says!
Give the bakers beggars their daily bread, is what I say
And, Tony, try to do it with a smile .. every day!
Tony 13/May/2001
An African Miss
I can’t forget the grace, I can’t forget the face.
Surprised at the impact you had on me,
from deep down in Africa you rose
a daughter of your people, and how it shows.
Inoniyegha…Inoniyegha…Inoniyegha Misan
Inoniyegha…Inoniyegha…Inoniyegha Misan
Who are you and who are your people?
Brilliant smiles with hearts in the roots of this land,
the Oyibo comes and marvels at this place
but not all of us are wah-wah face.
Inoniyegha…Inoniyegha…Inoniyegha Misan
Inoniyegha…Inoniyegha…Inoniyegha Misan
You sought me out after much palaver
and talked to me with no wahallah.
It’s great to hear the words you chatter
but call me Oyibo Pepe once more
and I’ll give you qata – qata :o))
Inoniyegha…Inoniyegha…Inoniyegha Misan
Inoniyegha…Inoniyegha…Inoniyegha Misan
Inoniyegha…Inoniyegha…Inoniyegha Misan
Tony 18/08/2001
Oyibo = White person
Oyibo Pepe = Old White Man
Wah-Wah face = Ugly
Palaver = Bother
Wahallah = Trouble
Qata-Qata = Huge Trouble!
Inonyega Misan = Inonyega Misan a name – surname/family name first!
Thursday, October 15, 2009
Street Food
Characters and symbols,
mutant matchstick men,
march across the building
in strict neon formation.
Cantonese advertising
lures you to unique
street food venues.
Fish flap
in capture tanks,
the sound of patting
a baby’s wet bum.
Take your pick
and latex gloved hands
make a crane grab
look immobile.
Cherry tomatoes,
small red gobstoppers,
offset squid bodies
that leak black ink.
Congealed saliva
of Swallows
stirred into bird’s nest soup
with a bamboo cooking brush.
Spitting woks,
pelican pouches
filled with garlic,
mushrooms, carrots
spring onions and broccoli
all sprinkled with
Chinese white wine.
Deft fingers
separate noodle strings,
a silent pliable harp.
Sculptured watermelon dragon
threatens with
breaded lobster claws.
Ying and Yang of
Cantonese food,
and life is perfect
if you’re Cantonese,
... but tonight, I’m not hungry.
T
2009.10.15
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
Retribution cocktail
I take my
retribution cocktail,
at six o-clock
every morning,
Esidrex,
Zyloric,
Glucophage,
and Omega 3 supplement.
A Doctors’ solution
for a body that’s seen
the world,
and over indulged
in what it has to offer.
Roasted joints of meat
eaten Henry VIII style,
torn apart by hand
with no side dishes.
Wine and beer
by the gallon
and cigarettes
by the carton,
have all been
contributors to my
downfall.
Now, there’s perverted pleasure
in maintaining
daily charts
that tell me
what my body is doing.
The ups and downs of
my existence plotted
on a computer screen
bears resemblance
to the turmoil
of my excesses.
T
2009/10/11
Monday, October 12, 2009
My breakfast sandwich
My breakfast sandwich
Whole meal bread, lightly toasted,
a sliver of butter slowly melting
into crumbs of the future.
Green, crinkly lettuce a
foundation for a feast.
Beef pastrami with its shimmer
of pink and tinged transparent blue
surrounded by speckles of yellow,
red and green seasoning that
falls away into cling film as I lift it.
Sliced white onion, thin circles
of eye watering taste that grow
smaller and smaller towards the center.
Juicy red tomato, pulp and seed
exposed, dripping, mouth watering.
Each layered one upon the other
awaiting the peak of the sunny side up
egg whose golden yellow yolk will burst
and flood.
Crystalline white salt, a peck is just enough.
Finally, the Prince of Herbs, black pepper
ground from the mill to dust as garnish.
T
2008/6/23