O! Yeah! It is a rat race We fight for land
We fight for a brand
We fight for our stand
We fight on demand
O! Yeah! It is a rat race
So many more rats I have to face
In hundreds we crawl the city pavements
This rat era of industrial enslavement
Creeping through the tunnels of the underground
The rats are forever mass politically duty-bound
And with any new evolution
We wave ‘hello’ to a new revolution
O! Yeah! It is a rat race
Every little space is a crowded place
Some are going to work
Some are going for a walk
Some are looking for some luck
Some are trying to make a buck
We are pests of mother earth
Mass copulating until the sun sets
Thousands rave and party in music concerts
And in mass graves we acknowledge our deaths
With shame we cannot bury economic crisis
Even with many centuries of wars and peace
O! Yeah! It is a rat race
We keep on running at a fast pace
For the sake of acquiring education
Everywhere in mass congregations
We place ourselves in institutions
We scrounge the cities for daily food
And a global circle of waste is regularly issued
To our environment! - We do more harm than we do good
We fight for fish
We fight for our dish
We fight for wishes
We fight and varnish with many images tarnished
O! Yeah! It is a rat race
A lasting curse of the human race
Copyright 2010 - Sylvia Lovina Chidi Order copy of my book now! - Click on icon below to take you straight to the book on bookstore website   
or ISBN: 978-0-9559916-0-8 Publisher: Sylvia Lovina Chidi
Copyright: © 2008 Sylvia Lovina Chidi
Little words like Sorry |
| Little words make me cry
Common go ahead and try
Little words tell no lie
Like the simple word when I say goodbye
Little words tend to tease
Little words tend to appease
And when one says the word please
Life and love is given a new lease
Little words like sorry, don’t worry
Blossom slowly in little glories
And the moral of this story
Is that ‘sorry’ is often said in a hurry Copyright 2009 – Sylvia Chidi |
|
My Rock of Gibraltar Rock, Rock O! My Rock of Gibraltar You are my heavenly altar The doves sing, the white clouds dance And the white waves at sea wave romance And for the love of chess Let me humbly confess The way you move those chess pieces Can mend anyones hearts broken pieces Rock, Rock O! My Rock of Gibraltar With nature beautiful beyound wonder The monkeys & birds are at home They play about and joyously roam And when I look at you it is clear You are a breathe of fresh Gibraltar air You touch my pawns, rook, bishop, queen, king and knight My heart is racing, I think this must be Gilbraltar love Alright! Slave of Food - We are all slaves of food. When there is food shortage, we once again as humans become uncivilised. We become animals. Just recently from my recent trip I sat down in the evening with 2 Nigerian Chess players and 2 Spanish players in Caleta Hotel on the last day of our chess tournament which was mentally and physically exhausting. We were so hungry and gloomy that when finally the starter(Salmon with a pinch of green salad) arrived, Mariano the Spanish chess player after cleaning his plate out let out a big sigh and with a feeble voice said, 'I am so hungry, I even eat the green' .We all burst out laughing so hard for minutes until we had tears in our eyes. And when the desert arrived we laughed our heads off again as we saw one large strawberry in the plate wrapped with a sauce served to each of us. After we had eaten we were completely full of life again. So here is a little food poem! | | Thick red blood veins bath in anger
The stomach grumbles in idiotic anger
A taste of food and out springs laughter
Triumphant moods commence again after
And it can be argued
We are all but slaves of food
Digesting away between interludes
Without food the mind is wholly screwed
We consume and wear different costumes
With food for thought and food of all sorts
We eat for the heart until it sets us apart
While the crumbs are often sought by rats
The pleasure one feels after a congested meal
That inner gratifying satisfaction is cheap but real
Toast, eggs and beans and it is work and work
Fruits, wine and cakes and it is talk and talk
Coffee or tea and eyes are conspicuously awake
A turkey roast and sleep is suspiciously at stake
We are all but slaves of food
I conclude with fluctuating moods
There is food for romance
There is food for the fools
Enjoy, eat fast, food never lasts, rewind and preview
Hungry mouths elsewhere regularly wait for its rescue
Copyright 2009 - Sylvia Chidi |
Now what is a food poem without a wine poem? After so many years of drinking wine I have particularly come to love the wines of Chile. If you are in a shop and you are unsure of what wine to pick then choose one from Chile. You simply cannot go wrong unless of course that wine becomes stale. The best wine I enjoy from Chile is the finest Chile's Merlot, the Cuvée Alexandre. The taste is exotic and rich. You see a good wine can be compared to the likes of a good person. And right now the complexity of my mind lets me unwind so I have a little puzzle for you. If wine becomes stale, can one repair it by using lots of fresh grapes and fermenting the two together? Has anyone tried it? Can we return stale wine to its original state? I mean a bad person can become good right! LOL! Ok! enough of my riduculous antics, here is a little wine poem. Sweet wine
Lets feast and dine
Sweet wine
Tickle my taste buds
Sweet wine
Sharpen my senses
Make them finer than fine
Sweet wine
Red and white stay in line
Till I give you the sign
That you are mine
Copyright 2005 - Sylvia Chidi |
 Life is Chess Lets play a game of chess
A game that could bring about stress
A game that could also depress
If you strive to win without success
© Sylvia Chidi- 17 October 2005 (It is strange we live in the 21st century and even in developed countries there is still a high degree of sexism, racism and discrimination) This poem will not go down well with anyone who discriminates, is a macho control freak or a macho pig.
If I were a girl I'll wake up each day I'll tell myself to go and learn at school No fancy mini-skirts, No acting cool as a fool I'll play it safe with a boy Simple jokes and simple joys I’ll stand-up for only love and equality Not for some stupid momentary flattery These silly lines inspire only immorality If I were a girl I think you would understand How it feels to be constantly disrespected Treated as a feminine reject even if an intellect Thought off often as a sexual object or project I swear I’d be a much tougher woman I'll take out my dustpan, Let everyone Start slowly again from where it all began But I’m just a girl It feels like a pitiful spell To be forever taken for granted Whether I’m multi-skilled or talented If I were a girl There will be no wedding bells Until I'm completely educated as well I'll always take care of me I'll always hold onto dreams And any boy who says he loves me Will have to work with me as a team But I’m just a girl And I don’t want a life of hell I want to play with cars and not just dolls And besides a boy I always want to be an equal By Sylvia Chidi November 7th 2008 - Americas PresidentI was so glad when I read the papers today to come across an article that shares my thoughts. Here are some of the quotes. For the past couple of days I avoided the newspapers as I was not interested in this over hyped news about Obama. But to open it today and read this article made me feel good. Quoted from the newspaper 'SUN' (Newspaper printed in Britain)
Page 31 - 7th November 2008 Jon Gaunt)
'I'll be straight with you, I didn't support Obama and I don't want to rain on his parade, but he will need more than fine words and brilliant speeches to pull the States out of this financial mess.'
'But one thing that is really getting on my nerves is the constant reference to him being black, he is mixed race. And we commit a disservice to Barrack's family, especially his white mother and white grandmother who brought him up, if we write his white background out of history.'  (Black Identity)  (Mixed race identity) (Mariah Carey - Often referred to as a black Maverick - born of a white Irish mother and a man of Afro-Venezuelan descent. November 4, 2008
(A new breed of mixed race or shall I say identified as Black Identities by the media and by ignorant/uneducated people.) Malcolm X & Martin Luther King, Jr - both assassinated - these are the real black identities Black or White - Political Correctness
Black, black is beautiful
All colours are meaningful
But Obama is not black, he is mixed race Hamilton is not black, he is mixed race
Think about it; absorb this at your own pace
I'm weighing the two
Like I always do
In all fairness, in this world of madness
This is what I call 'Political Correctness'
Obama is not black but mixed race
Take a look at the color of his face
He is light skinned, not even dark
But they chose to call him black
I'm weighing the two
Like I always do
With a white mother and a father that is black
The ignorant masses prefer to refer to you as black! Copyright - Sylvia Chidi Obama as President - He is mixed race not Black! Today history will be in the making in America but what really puzzles me is how both white and black people believe they are voting for a black(Obama) and are feeling cool about it. White people are feeling cool so that they not associated with the terminology racist. Black people are cool thinking finally someone that represents their race and identity has accomplished an impossible feat. Just the other day Lewis Hamilton won the Grand Prix and was referred to as a Genius and a Black. Has the world gone mad today? First he is not a Genius, he needs to be consistent with his performance over a period of years to be even considered a genius. Michael Schumacher is the racing Genius and Lewis is nowhere near his capability and ability. Secondly is a sibling product from a white parent and a black parent really black? You tell me? How foolish can this world be?
Then I realized it is the media, misleading the ignorant masses as they try to reshape the new black race/identity that is acceptable globally. In other words, to be successful as a Black especially in the White Community, you need to be mixed race is what they are practically saying? Can you see the woman in me?  I am a woman
Generations of life are born out of this mother
I am a woman
So often my wise opinions and words are smothered
And with open honesty
I speak with modesty
Your sweet kisses flatter
You are to me all that matters
But sometimes when you look at me
I wonder what it is in me that you see
I suppose you can tell
That I got brain cells
But I ask,
Can you see the woman in me?
Is it a task for I wear no masks?
You try to keep me pencilled in a flask
Can you see the woman in me?
I am a woman with pride
My strength is a strong tide
My road is forever rough to ride
But when it is time to take sides
Behind dark walls, you run and hide
I am a woman with love
With pretty assets that curve
And when you give me the shove
I feel a thousand boxing gloves
Have hit me deliberately from above
I question,
Can you see the woman in me?
Come Sex, my name is always mentioned
Some Vex! When I try to be me and free Copyright Sylvia Chidi- April 2008 October 2008 I read somewhere Mr Fuld, who earned US$500 million at the Lehman Brothers, had accepted full responsibility for his actions ahead of the downfall of Lehman. He also handed out unspeakable bonuses to a few executives just before the downfall. In my own opinion that is ‘Bullocks’. Full responsibility is paying some of those employees out of his own pocket and allowing 99% of his assets to be stripped. This is modern day-light robbery in my opinion and there are so many like him that get more than one million pounds/dollars in wages annually for doing what? Basically for doing what any average Jo on the street with a decent university education can do and that is why our economy is in financial crisis. Why should anybody even a genius be paid more than £1 million in wages annually? This is where Governments need to come in and need to set a limit on how much an individual especially in such financial organizations can make for themselves or we will find ourselves in a much worse situation globally in a couple of years even with all the global bail out plans that are set to be implemented currently.
Credit Crunch Punch I had a hunch about the credit crunch
Now it is making an unusual loud scrunch
I hear no sound of joy or laughter
As the markets crash like thunder
Take a look at the whole financial bunch
Many made money on just a keypunch
Banks which once stood brave
Are now begging to be saved
With Governments pumping billions into banks
Because many claim to have empty money tanks
People’s savings are wiped off the record
Sit home! Sit home! Calculate what you can afford
For fast is this growing curse flowing
As the financial chaos wind keeps blowing
On each lip only two words are spoken
Credit-Crunch!
Behold the whole Financial Market is broken
I had a hunch about the credit crunch
Now it is making an unusual loud scrunch
Inescapably we all have to face the credit crunch punch
Copyright 2008 - Sylvia Chidi Germany - September 2008 I was in Germany for a short visit recently and I happened to watch 'One shot at love in the evening on-line on MTV. I did not have much time on my hands so I watched the whole series from 10am until the early hours of the morning. I found the whole series entertaining and thought I compare the drink tequila with the actual Miss Tequila. Now everyone loves sex and I have decided to spice things up. Hence my latest poem "Bubbles of Love". I also have a few pictures of Germany to share with you. Read my web pages and you will get to know more about me, my adventures and my crazy poetry.
Bubbles of Love
Tequila, Tequila! I wish to confess There is something odd I wish to express One day I had one shot too many for a penny As my eyes opened up to 'Bubbles of love' Bubbles of love Bubbles of love This awesome beauty that you possess Your tanned skin calls for a touch of caress Bubbles of love Bubbles of love Your succulent lips demand a kiss of finesse And let’s not forget the sexy curves you possess Bubbles of Love Bubbles of Love I will fight with words not fists and head butts I can't help feeling all hot with no second thoughts These feelings I wish sometimes to suppress Because I play my life like a game of chess I know youthful beauty fades as that is its trade But your beauty merely radiates over man and hand-made Tequila, Tequila! I wish to confess Sometimes I do things in a little excess It is you I wish to undress in your nightdress While your chest presses against my bareness Rather than breaking loves number one code By driving carelessly on slippery roads For you I'll wear my heart on any of my sleeves Kisses, romance, love, the whole lot we can achieve I see only 'Bubbles of love' Beyond your smile, beyond your sexy little curves I see only 'Bubbles of love' In you, a ravishing blessing from above Tequila, Tequila! I wish to confess It is you I wish and want to process One day I had one shot too many for a penny And in you I saw my little American Princess Copyright September 2008 - Sylvia Chidi Germany (Essen, Düsseldorf and Cologne) Düsseldorf is the capital city of the German state of North Rhine-Westphalia. It is a beautiful town. Cologne lies on the River Rhine and is also nice in terms of its nightlife which includes a variety of restaurants, bars and restaurants. However these towns were not really bubbly during my visit. The streets were empty even during the weekends compared to the Streets of London or New York.   Typical German house painting, Statues and the River!
Awake in the morning!
   I get so many emails asking me about my poems and where I got the inspiration from. Well I get it from everywhere!. For example, 'O! My little girl is gone' came to me after reading about a missing girl in the papers. Last of all I would like to thank you readers for all your support, by your constant feedback to me via email and using some of my stuff on your websites/newsletters as well as performing some of my material on stage. This alone gives me enough inspiration to continue doing what I love doing, which is writing! Thank you! Thank you!    | | | To all the mothers who have lost their daughter/s.
O! My little girl is gone
O! My little girl, my heart is torn
From the day that she was born
Who knew so early she would be gone?
As the truth lays hidden beneath the sun
My heart constantly aches
While it lies fully awake
Daddy's little girl full of hope,
Denied the chance to develop
Mummy's little girl full of scope,
How can I, this distraught mum cope?
She walked the path of immense beauty
With this intense world in her little pocket
O! She was a little girl, a young pretty cutie
O! Her sweet memories, how can we forget?
And I can cry no more
Like I used to do before
Day and night I suffer in anguish
O! My little girl, my little young Miss
Day and night, you I can no longer kiss
I hope that in heaven her heart is at peace
Gone is my bundle of sweetness
And days of walking her to school
Gone is mother's display of fondness
And days of fun with her in a pool
O! My little girl is gone
O! My little girl, my heart is torn
I think of all the things we could have done!
As a proud parental mother and a child
While life's tide rolled in-shore mild or wild
Gone are the smiles and rosy cheeks
And her nice little mischievous tricks
As I sit there, ponder and begin to weep
Gone is the time she starts to read books!
And makes efforts to improve upon her looks
And I will miss all her little cuddles
And playing mud and splashing puddles
And I will miss her sweet voice
And all her loud playful noise
I ponder on what could have been
This no longer remains to be seen
O! My little girl, who knows the truth?
I shall think of you everyday by the hour
As my own priceless beautiful lost flower
And the favourite saying like mother, like daughter
Has forever lost its fertility to mature any further!
O! My little girl is gone!
O! My little girl is gone!
From the day that she was born
Who knew so early she would be gone?
Copyright 2007 - Sylvia Chidi
|
|
One of my favourite poems I wrote was when I had a glass of red wine one erotic night and I was imagining how one would express love and desire to someone they liked. Hence my book which is copyrighted, I have titled 'After Red Wine'  Baby Love, walk with me
Baby Love, walk with me
Hold my hand
Set me free
With a single red rose, under a tree I love your big beautiful blue eyes
And the way you wriggle those thighs
In the middle of the night I endlessly fantasize
Kisses, touches, moans - my dream comprises Baby Love, walk with me
Please!
Baby Love, talk to me
Please! Every single elegant day
Your centre stage is on display
In my own loving Romeo play
They say dreams do come true
Will you appear suddenly out of the blue? I love your long beautiful smile
Long and beautiful as the River Nile
Your mesmerizing face tells many a tale
With successful conquests I wish to hail
When is it time for us to set sail Baby Love, walk with me
Please!
Rock me gently
Please! I love your dazzling strong hands
Kisses, laughter, adventures – the whole brand
It is this love of you I softly demand
Your eyes speak, they understand Walk with me
Please! Baby Love, walk with me
Kiss my lips
As I close my eyes Unlock my heart with your key Set me free
With a single red rose, under a tree  The next poem is based on some literature I read. There was a famous poet many years ago that used to entertain his king and some of his poems were comical but made mockery in a very degrading way of women.  Praise Women
Praise them! Praise Women!
I read his words, then I cried, O these lies
How can a woman’s love lie only between her thighs? Foremost I admired him, his work was set on another stage
Later I concluded his words of women were words of rage Praise them! Praise Women!
For on the faces of all women you can trace
The elements of sacrificial suffering in their gaze To hear him say women are libidinous
Is not hilarious, rather I deem it as outrageous The women we all know have it tough
Every aspect of their life is embroiled with rough
Life cycle periodic pains and yet enough is not enough
Their agonising vaginal birth anguish isn’t a bluff Praise them! Praise Women!
Why curse the women that raise thee
Wait for you blindly in love while you are at sea
Aid you in your visions of where you want to be!
They bring us joy, love and peace
Something I request no one to dismiss If only he could see their potential essence
He may have appreciated their very presence
On earth, women’s love is the voltage of balance
The very reasoning of all kinds of romance
They give rise to our population
By endless copulation and multiplication
Which in turn gives rise to all the nations Praise them! Praise Women!
We need them in our mist!
For without them we cannot exist Praise them! Praise Women!
Praise onto the women that raise thee! Copyright 2006 - Sylvia Chidi Now please read the book section for more information on my books. Here is a glimpse of the second books cover which is a compilation of my best poems. One of the first poems I wrote came to me by accident. I was driving on the motorway to work and suddenly the idea of writing about a happy drunk dawned on me. I wrote it and recited it to two of my brothers and they loved it. They were going to recite it to girls as if it was their own lyrics. So here is how it goes! Drunken Life
I wake up on a Sunday Morning
To the sound of cars horning
Smelling of booze
And a particular ooze No wash, no breakfast, no amount of food
Can put me in my desired frame of mood
All dressed
From yesterdays mess
I am ready to visit my favourite spot
This is where I once fought A pub with loads of alcohol
Where I can stand up all mighty and tall
Six pints of lager
And I stagger
But hold on it is not yet over
For I am in Dover in my Rover
Prepared for a sleepover from any type of hangover I am now boarding a ferry
As I am high and merry
To Calais a land of gold
For the old and bold so I am told
I am hoping to smuggle without a fine
6 cartons of cigarettes and 6 cartons of wine This is the life of a sadistic drunk
It’s quite a contrast from that of a monk 6 shots of spirits
And I am ready to vomit
So I sit while I take out my kit
A special small emergency bucket
So I can pour out my juices like a rocket People in the city
Look at me and feel pity
As I beg for change
What a shame at my age
I still want more
For this body is hardcore This is the life of a sadistic drunk
It’s quite a contrast from that of a monk With a bottle of beer in one hand
I wave it around like a magic wand
My head is spinning
I am no longer winning
I slumber to the street
My body has given up in defeat This is the life of a sadistic drunk
It’s quite a contrast from that of a monk I find myself waking up in a cell
Just as I dreamt that I fell
It is cold and freezing as hell
From my face you can easily tell A policeman says to me
By the way I forgot to mention
Six more cautions
And you will spend the entire winter season
In one of the worst prisons Please I say, I will not do it again
I may be stupid but I am definitely not insane
I am immediately released
As if infectiously diseased Outside I think of some gin and tonic
And start to begin to feel quite erotic
Stop I say for today
I need to take a break
For my life is at stake This is the life of a sadistic drunk
It’s quite a contrast from that of a monk ©Sylvia Chidi- 17 October 2005 (Pictures by Shyandokht Nadianmehr(Copyright 2007) & Sculpture by Lesley Pover) C.P. Cavafy(1863-1933)Ithaka Translated by
Edmund Keeley & Philip Sherrar As you set out for Ithaka
hope your road is a long one,
full of adventure, full of discovery.
Laistrygonians, Cyclops,
angry Poseidon-don't be afraid of them:
you'll never find things like that on your way
as long as you keep your thoughts raised high,
as long as a rare excitement
stirs your spirit and your body.
Laistrygonians, Cyclops,
wild Poseidon-you won't encounter them
unless you bring them along inside your soul,
unless your soul sets them up in front of you.
Hope your road is a long one.
May there be many summer mornings when,
with what pleasure, what joy,
you enter harbors you're seeing for the first time;
may you stop at Phoenician trading stations
to buy fine things,
mother of pearl and coral, amber and ebony,
sensual perfume of every kind-
as many sensual perfumes as you can;
and may you visit many Egyptian cities
to learn and go on learning from their scholars.
Keep Ithaka always in your mind.
Arriving there is what you're destined for.
But don't hurry the journey at all.
Better if it lasts for years,
so you're old by the time you reach the island,
wealthy with all you've gained on the way,
not expecting Ithaka to make you rich.
Ithaka gave you the marvelous journey.
Without her you wouldn't have set out.
She has nothing left to give you now.
And if you find her poor, Ithaka won't have fooled you.
Wise as you will have become, so full of experience,
you'll have understood by then what these Ithakas mean.
- This is a poem about the political race in America
America! America!
The presidential race is on
America! America!
History is made when the race is won
The President is about to be displaced
These words are spoken with a lightface
In this little head, thoughts fight for space
Looking for evidence and clues to trace
Who can outpace?
Who can outrace?
Who can deliver not grass but grace?
As the president is about to be replaced
The agenda could be gender
In a political race of all races
The winner could be older and bolder
In this political footrace
Who does America embrace?
Which candidates do the people erase?
Who cares?
Who fears?
This change is about to and will take place
As the president is about to be replaced
No one cares if he is black or white
Or if the other man is too old to fight
No one cares if she is a woman
It is either the democrats or the republicans
Anyone can emerge as that political face
As the president is about to be displaced
America! America!
The presidential race is on
America! America!
History is made when the race is won
Copyright 2008 - Sylvia Chidi Disaster strikes anywhere I rather tell you a joke Or give you a little poke But disaster strikes anywhere Here or there, far or near or elsewhere I have cried my own fair share of tears As disaster unfortunately strikes anywhere Hanging uncomfortably in the air fresh Is the uninterrupted decomposing of flesh And no one knows tomorrow Nor the impact of such horror That has befell the people of China Not excluding the people of Burma Deliberately raining a song of sorrows  People are always quick to judge and they are very gullible. Remember there are always more than two angles to a story. And why do we judge? It’s simple, for many reasons. Sometimes because we trust someone, someone is our friend, there is also the element of ignorance, immatureness, jealousy, inferiority complex, vanity and the list goes on. My poem Justice does not cover this subject widely but it talks about justice. Do not judge." There is a righteous kind of judgment we are supposed to exercise—with careful discernment (John 7:24). When Jesus told us not to judge (Matthew 7:1), He was telling us not to judge hypocritically. Matthew 7:2-5 declares, "For in the same way you judge others, you will be judged, and with the measure you use, it will be measured to you. Why do you look at the speck of sawdust in your brother's eye and pay no attention to the plank in your own eye? http://www.gotquestions.org/do-not-judge.html Justice For those who reap us of thousands of grand’s
Lavish their wealth on treasures of the land
Justice often does us no right on this stand
For it gives the culprits only a helping hand
Justice is sometimes wrong
Justice is meant to be honour
Justice is sometimes strong
Justice is meant to be society’s formidable cure
With words I can create drama
With written words I cannot stammer
But Justice will do us no right in this drama
For I am called black but I got a white mama In vain I see no reasonable sense
In this precluded abstract nonsense
And as Justice wears again its white robes
I sincerely hope that it will always accurately probe
Copyright 2008 - Sylvia Chidi |
