18 April 2010

Jamaican Country Woman

Feet, crusted, calloused, branch thick,
cinnamon sprinkled in youth;
born to bauxite’s blood red stain,
shining silver, rich white earth.

Body, bolstering twelve stones,
spread across a bent stalk spine
crudely hung with sagging limbs
beneath furrows of grizzled plaits.

Feet, scorched to fresh and fading scars,
dredged in fine grains of gray dust
for seasons of fiery intimacy
with char ash and smoldering coals.

Body, bound by bush to man and child,
spread wide for green bamboo,
cold sweat of icy planters punch,
painful birth of tar brushed sons.

Feet, crushing clay of generations ruts,
tree of labours hard worn track,
soles worn weary in servile path;
granite stone her soul consolation.
©Rasta Rascal

Dirty Words

Talk dirty to me!
Stick out your tainted tongue
and saturate these eager ears
with wet and wild words;
let them carom chaotically
off the wall of sensuality;
then, like sweet guava jelly
smeared deliciously across
an old time picture show,
glue themselves to a fantasy.

©Rasta Rascal

Sly Mongoose

Ooo dat sly mongoose!
Slide in de coop again,
an pick one plumpish hen.

Flatta she wid trickery;
"Watta pretty chicky!”

Wid hennish pride at pique,
she peck him pon de cheek.
While chicky sway she hips,
ol' mongoose lick him lips.
Ooo dat sly mongoose!
©Rasta Rascal


Before one wave
has exhausted itself,
another arises,
washing away
my earthly possessions.
I plummet
a thousand times
to the ocean floor,
groping for fish
in a troubled sea,
hunting for treasure
that does not exist.
Still, I have no regrets
for I am young
and time is my gold.

©Rasta Rascal