With a mind like that the poet must be mad
Many men...
(He lost his marbles)
Many women...
(Poetry did this to her)
We believe
What we want to believe
He is keen to see the things
We want to see that they're
Not where we see them
With the one working ear he
Listens with tear stained
Sympathy to the outraged
Complaints of the robbed robbers
With the other not there slashed
Ear he opts not to hear the soaring
Jazz score of the pious whose only
Sin is to escape the wrath of the
Beleaguered match fixers
He's a poet of you know
So in his distress he married himself
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We are denied the warm moments to exchange kisses
Our lifestyle is this vast
love denying jail
If you don't come to me
I will not come to you
Pride is the arbitrary
arbiter of our love
You don't write to me
Technology has saddled me
With the iron grip of
The loss of memory
I have forgotten how to
write the moving love letter
of innocent old style romance
Because of some obscure reason
of life we are denied the warm
Moments to exchange kisses
And time is the match commissioner
who wants to know the results
Of whether our rematch is ill
fated for relegation and doom
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There will be a miracle
If you go away
The ruins of my tears
Will sweep the floors of the temple
With the sighs of my crying
Look at the difficulties
Of our present situation and
The cynicism of it will
Tell you that all is hopeless
And lost and the feeble particle
Of despair and non belief
Wants to drive one to hang on
The precipice of one's
Own death throes and when I am
Surrounded by self doubt and
Indecision in my hour of fear
There's that little bird of hope
That whispers to me
To believe in you
There will be a miracle
And hope will lead us
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It Runs In The Family!
The uncle is a barfly and he's
Locked up in jail for jay walking on a
Holy Sunday morning to the nineteenth hole
It runs in the blood of this alcohol ravaged
Family and the father is dying of the liver
Cirrhosis but he's adamant that he won't
Give up his love of the bottle and he has fled
From the hospital to drink himself to death
It has brought shame and untold suffering
To this family but the mother is an alcoholic
Par excellence and she will drink until she
Can no longer stand and she urinates on herself
She is gang raped by the drunkards the baby in
Her arms is in danger of suffocating in the
Vomit of the soused mother from hell
It runs in the family!
The daughter is an exhibitonist who likes
To expose what her grand mama gave her in public
The girl is a public nuisance and she has grabbed
The headlines of the rumor mill for a glass of beer
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From the confines of the tomb to the prison of the grave
Even if you kill him
For the small inheritance
Of the supermarket and the old
Crumbling shop in the old
Quarters of those who will
Never venture out of the confines
Of this township 'cause they're
Held hostage by their poverty
Even if you congratulate yourselves
And are adamant that your parent
Deserved to have his days cut short
The sin of your crime will cause
Havoc to your conscience you
Will not spend your ill gotten
Wealth in peace because even
Where you build mansions surrounded
By a sea of poverty from the earth
And from the confines of the tomb
And beyond the prison of the grave
Your father rages for revenge and
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Job of de poetry
(A Rasta mahn tour de force in dread)
De poetry
She must make de caress dem yo
And make de sooth dem so
De poetry womans
She must make hurt neh
E n make also dem heal see
And make dem hear and feel eh
Dem poems offa yours womans
She must make me be wise e n klevah ha
If de be not so no poetry in ni mi house
Otherwise no people dem no buy dem stiff
Rough rofo rofo neck poems no no sweeydie
De poetry must make informed
Like newspaper like tabloid
Like paparazzi en...BY JAH!
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Will you propose in 2012?
Will you propose in 2012?
That you were a slow
Leaner in our school days
Is a lame excuse to explain
Away the coy public
Knowledge that you love me
Will you finally break
With tradition and get
Out of he shell of your
Inhibitions and tell me you're
Mad about me and reveal to
Me the pain off your romantic
delusions?
You know I am far sighted
In philosophic knowledge and
Romantic self delusions
Stop being so selfish with
Your love.Your insufferable
Pathologic shyness borders on
The mental instability.Wake
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(Father poems) In the name of the father
His father
Is a deranged drug addict
Who refuses to listen to the experts
The junkie just won't kick the habit
And the son is a teen drug peddler who
Who sells drugs at school
His father is an alcoholic
The unrepentant drug dealer has sold
His soul to the devil and liquor
The drunkard has a master's degree
In alcohols abuse and he can teach
The suicidal to misuse liquor and
Pay the price with their own lives
His wife abuser of a father assaults
His mother routinely in front of his
Own children party as a chore but mainly
To prove what's meant by it's a man's world
And the boy watches with baleful admiration
Thus is born a girl hater and a serial rapist
His father is maniacal tiger at home and
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(Family poems) Family violence
Last night while
you were sleeping
The stars were
brilliant in heaven
Last night when
You were dreaming
we heard those blood
curdling yells as
if in a nightmare
Last night
when you were
Sound asleep
We jumped up
to hide under the bed
Last night when you
were snoring
in dreamland a stray
Bullet hit the wall
you can see the hole
Right there next to
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Anthologies of their lamentations 7. Lament of the kitchen maid
In the day I have to
brace myself for the bricks
Of the jabbering of the madam
Mercy God.It's not good girls
to graduate at the top of the
List of condemned house servants
In the night I hear his voice
At midnight I must double as the
free agent lover of the master
Mercy, mercy.it's not good to
earn the college degree of the
Self degrading humiliated maid
In the street I am the butt of
the bawdy jokes of the emperors
Of the slum and the ghetto
Lord it's double double digit
indecent to be hauled to the
Suffering mayhem of the servant
girl
In the church I am no freedom
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