Our little hillock

When I was but a boy
not going to school yet,
my brother and I
climbed the rocks
of a green hillock

found our own little cavern
hidden behind some creeping green bushes
and the earth, blue sky,
the sun and rain
were our playmates

and with small catapults
we could let stones fly
like whizzing bullets
hitting anything that we found

and we were kings of that hill
sending baboons back on their way
and that farm was a boy’s dream,

[...] Read more

poem by Gert Strydom
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First night in Botswana

I push Radio Botswana
It spills a kindergarten song
From the villages, call and response,
Into the hotel room

A floor below, and down across the street
The band and beer, the discotheque

But I have a newer freedom to support
To touch the fire-spikes of redden flower
To breath the heavy perfume
Of the blossom-trees
To sleep away in the desert
Woken by the bark of baboons like angry men
To watch the heron and the kingfisher
Near the dam of Molepolole

Away from the carrion sound
Of bands and domestic dogs
Feasting on the meat of modernity:

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poem by Frank Bana
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The family crest

Was it in Nelspruit,
or was it at Pilgrim’s Rest
that you had the man
make the family crest
on a white plate?

Of the Lion with the crown
walking with a golden
sword turned down
in its right claw
over fields of
green and red
and on the top it had
a silver skullcap
of medieval armour.

To the kids it was
a holy omen
something out of old chivalry
standing for a religious, moral

[...] Read more

poem by Gert Strydom
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I Want It Now

Gooses, geeses
I want my geese to lay gold eggs for easter
At least a hundred a day
And by the way

I want a feast
I want a bean feast
Cream buns and doughnuts
And fruitcake with no nuts
So good you could go nuts

No, now

I want a ball
I want a party
Pink macaroons
And a million balloons
And performing baboons and
Give it to me now

[...] Read more

poem by Roald Dahl
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Dreams of Africa

There are days I dream of Africa
and my life as a child there
where running through the wild bush
was a joy beyond compare

Never a thought was given
to the animals who may be close
I loved them all and a big baboon
was one that I loved most

I travelled to the great Zimbabwe ruins
and walked within their walls
Thinking how it must have been
for people who were tall

I've stood in the rainforest's at Victoria Falls
one of the most magnificent sites to see
And the memory still makes me sad
for what has come to be

[...] Read more

poem by Janice M Pickett
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Monkey Business

The markets up, the Markets down
For weeks it just meanders.
Alas, my stocks are always down
Each time I take a gander.

GM, Lehman, Citicorp
My broker bought for me-
And you can guess the net result-
IHe bought a yacht, not me.

Those friends who don’t avoid me
Say I’ve reversed Midas’ touch.
I don’t turn things I touch to gold
I turn gold into rust.

I’d heard dart tossing Simians
Can best the S & P
So I went to the Zoo this March
to consult a Chimpanzee.

[...] Read more

poem by John F. McCullagh
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I'm not an Ape Man

'Mankind has descended from monkeys'
I heard on the telly last week;
The scientists say that it's certain,
I say that I think they've a cheek.

Just because our design is so similar
To monkeys and apes and baboons;
I don't reckon those chimps in the advert'
Have a clue what to do with those spoons.

I'm not fooled by their lovable antics,
And the 'smiles' that play on their lips;
It's an insult to dress them like humans,
And force them to drink P.G. tips.

We sit them in front of a mirror
Like a schoolmaster would do a dunce,
Then say: 'yes they've got self awareness'
If they do not attack it at once.

[...] Read more

poem by John Carter Brown
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The next level in moral behavior higher than that exhibited by the baboon is that in which duty and loyalty are shown toward a group of your own kind too large for an individual to know all of them. We have a name for that. It is called "patriotism." Behaving on a still higher moral level were the astronauts who went to the Moon, for their actions tend toward the survival of the entire race of mankind. The door they opened leads to the hope that H. sapiens will survive indefinitely long, even longer than this solid planet on which we stand tonight. As a direct result of what they did, it is now possible that the human race will never die. Many short-sighted fools think that going to the Moon was just a stunt. But the astronauts knew the meaning of what they were doing, as is shown by Neil Armstrong's first words in stepping down onto the soil of Luna: "One small step for a man, one giant leap for mankind."

quote by Robert Heinlein
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The invasion army

When houses dazzle on all the hillocks,
every swamp is drained
for sport fields,
bulldozers make roads
right through the veldt

and it becomes mines, factories
and office blocks
and sown farms cover the fields
and the bush veldt
disappears into timber mills,

the last trees become burning wood
and furniture
and concrete creeps up into the Karoo

and the clean air disappears
behind industrial fog,
car fumes and poisonous gas
so that the sun shine fades

[...] Read more

poem by Gert Strydom
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More Fun Than A Barrel Of Monkeys

there are multiple questions pertaining to the concept,
'more fun than a barrel of monkeys.'

how big is the barrel?
how many monkeys are we talking about?
how big are the monkeys? Are we talking spider monkeys, chimps, baboons or what?
Are the monkeys old or young and where's the barrel, inside or outside?

If you leave the monkeys in the barrel, you got a problem:
they'll die in their own excrement,
if you lift the lid and let them out,
they might kill you.

a monkey can rip out your eyes, is that fun?
monkeys, leaping and running around the house, can do a lot of damage, is that fun?
monkeys are dirty, so... what exactly do you consider fun?
what's it going to be like trying to get the monkeys back in the barrel?
would that be fun?

what would the neighbors think of you, if you released the monkeys into their yards?

[...] Read more

poem by Richard Jarboe
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Lines in Reply to the Beautiful Poet Who Welcomed News of McGonagall's Departure from Dundee

Dear Johnny, I return my thanks to you;
But more than thanks is your due
For publishing the scurrilous poetry about me
Leaving the Ancient City of Dundee.

The rhymster says, we'll weary for your schauchlin' form;
But if I'm not mistaken I've seen bonnier than his in a field of corn;
And, as I venture to say and really suppose,
His form seen in a cornfield would frighten the crows.

But, dear Johnny, as you said, he's just a lampoon,
And as ugly and as ignorant as a wild baboon;
And, as far as I can judge or think,
He is a vendor of strong drink.

He says my nose would make a peasemeal warrior weep;
But I've seen a much bonnier sweep,
And a more manly and wiser man
Than he is by far, deny it who can!

[...] Read more

poem by William Topaz McGonagall
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I Have A House Against The Sugar-Bush Hillocks

I have a house against the sugar-bush hillocks
where like orange speckles aloes grow wild,
where thunder strikes iron stones blue-white
with flowering proteas growing everywhere

and I see chacma baboons impudent
coming in a horde to my fruit orchard,
eating some whole peaches with meat and pits
in a blatant aggressive noisy group,

before they all run away indignant
and they are gone before the dark night comes
when storm clouds hang threatening black and grey,
with lightning bolts hitting some blue-white sparks
and every visitor that knocks on my door
is awaited like a welcome kind of guest.
he brushes his jean off making it neat
and then he turns right around to face me
where he is looking somewhat tattered,

[...] Read more

poem by Gert Strydom
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We Are The World: A Love Giving Blessing

Michael led forty-seven
predominantly U.S. artists
in USA for Africa aid

remember when
Michael Jackson
Lionel Richie

recorded their hit single
'We Are the World'
in 1985 giving us vision.

when Michael sang ‘Earth Song'
with an angelic choir of children
at violation 1996 Brit awards

Michael struck a Christ-like pose
while surrounded by children a rabbi
which inflamed racist illuminati

[...] Read more

poem by Terence George Craddock
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Circus Clown

Suddenly from somewhere
A street urchin-
An untamed bird of the wider sky
Dropped down
Into the circus tent
Before him was unfurled
Scenes eerie….awesome! !
Roaring lions and tigers,
Gibbering baboons, caravans of camels,
Animal tamers and acrobats,
Artists balancing on poles
Swinging from bars to trapeziums
Pliant girls with plastic limbs
And pouting breasts,
Walking on tight ropes
A queer world
Peopled with beasts and men!

His face, painted white and red
In motley dress, he was arrayed

[...] Read more

poem by Valsa George
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Gideon Valley

In the Gideon valley I grew up, crawled with scars
I was drowned ten times when I was a young stratum star
The stream in between I swum when it was winter usual crest
Perfectly the home of baobab trees, songs of baboons' seasons' lake
The land was born and discovered from nose of rose hearts
Such a tall man went bare footed to clear the air stripe hectares
Such atall feet entangled in sands, strong path he bestowed facts
The gradpa rocked on to save many coming lives of stones of funks
My grandma argued the sprit of huts and perched on the air field
Afterthe lion slept afew days of years of a fallen fluid
My wrinkled mama retained that air stripe of cereals, corns' roll
I limped with her and sped the days like bites and nails moll
My young age, of teens, of rays on railings trail graves
My school life, gripped me and moved on grey matter's groove
And the Gideon leader called often with marker's grades
But I always sung my song of natty gritty day long dredges
I paid the debt spent in vain of widened mighty drawn attacks
I found the ruler of Ngara primary rock and rolled dead anarchies
While the grandma laughed at me in joy
I salute the Gideon Valley of bumper yield glory

poem by Paul Mwenelupembe
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Indoor Games

Indoor fireworks amuse your kitchen staff
Dusting plastic garlic plants
They snigger in the draught
When you ride through the parlour
Wearing nothing but your armour-
Playing indoor games.
One string puppet shows amuse
Your sycophantic friends
Who cheer your rancid recipes
In fear they might offend,
Whilst you loaf on your sofa
Sporting falsies and a toga-
Playing indoor games, indoor games.
Your mean teetotum spins arouse your seventh wife
Who pats her sixty little skins
And reinsures your life,
Whilst you sulk in your sauna
cos you lost your jigsaw corner-
Playing indoor games, indoor games.
Each afternoon you train baboons to sing

[...] Read more

song performed by King Crimson
Added by Lucian Velea
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Insufficient unto life's book are isolated leaves thereof

INSUFFICIENT UNTO LIFE'S BOOK ARE ISOLATED LEAVES THEREOF

Reading, like an act of faith, appears
to catalyze perceptions and fine tune
personal philosophy the years
discards or reinforces as time's rune
plays out, with or without consent, tears, cheers.
One dimensional dreams prove weak cocoon.

Stiff tomes, once home to leadership perceived,
soon bend their spines, page servant or buffoon
become; what pleased now numbs, dumb message grieved
as half-truth, superficial style, cartoon
conveying ersatz ego. Tree once leaved
submits to season's fall 'neath gibbous moon.

Through self - not in - seek answer, other mind
behind strong screen falls prey to fears, too soon
shows gaps may not be filled by mate fate signed.

[...] Read more

poem by Jonathan Robin
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Fear and Death; Are Our Twin of Pain

A nice conversation within the twin and me:
Twin: can you see our faces?
Me: yeah, sure; it looks like matured poop.
Twin: do you want us to honest with you?

Me: No, I want both of you to keep bullshiting around; till I grab your necks and strangle continuously, till your skulls squash.
Twin: ok; that's very respectful and fearful. Don't you have respect for us; almighty king fear and death?

Me: *hissing* what ever! For all I care; you both could go drink a full bottle of acid, and knock yourselves out; while you die of cancer, with all due respect, idiots! .

Twin: ok, I see this our friendly conversation is leading to no where, I guess; we will try another fellow, that is not Nigerian, maybe someone from Tokyo or Syria.

Me: good you know; at least both of you are foolish enough to park up your poop faces, and try another native dustbin bird, you could scold and steal away so easily. It was nice meeting and charting with you two retards. For you both; act like illiterate witches and wizards, preaching the word of God in hell, and selling holy water, to winch and quench the burning fire of hell.

Twin: we like you; because you fire up our curiosity. Can we be your friends?

Me: yeah, sure; you've just found the right hell, to make you burn successfully.

Me: It was nice melting both of you. Baboons!

poem by King Femi Oloidi
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Someone Stole My Cat!

I think somebody stole my cat.
It was here last night before I went out drinking and
having sexual relations with truck drivers.

Now it's not here and the window is open.
I didn't open the window;
I don't know who did.
Was it those aliens that abduct me sometimes,
make me dress up like Marilyn Monroe
and probe my orifices with chopsticks?
Did they come over again?
I told them to leave me alone!

Where did my cat go?
It's gone!
Someone must have taken it.
I WANT IT BACK!

[...] Read more

poem by Newamba Flamingo
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A New John Bull

A tall, slight, English gentleman,
With an eyeglass to his eye;
He mostly says “Good-Bai” to you,
When he means to say “Good-bye”;
He shakes hands like a ladies’ man,
For all the world to see—
But they know, in Corners of the World.
No ladies’ man is he.
A tall, slight English gentleman,
Who hates to soil his hands;
He takes his mother’s drawing-room
To the most outlandish lands;
And when, through Hells we dream not of,
His battery prevails,
He cleans the grime of gunpowder
And blue blood from his nails.

He’s what our blokes in Egypt call
“A decent kinder cove.”
And if the Pyramids should fall?

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poem by Henry Lawson
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