(I’m not dead). Carnival Poem I The music whips you into mania And the sweat of the masses incites to ecstasy If religion is the opiate, This is the tonic. Sweet like cascadoo, Rush of power like cocaine, Addictive like morphine. We are the vessels The street is the vein Infecting all with Wuk-up-yuh-waist-osis And free-up-yuh-self-itis. It is a chronic epidemic Where the only cure Is to succumb to the disease; More riddim, More kaiso, More tempo.
Tabanca
I have a tabanca. I miss the warmth, The sunshine, The shade of green, I miss the freedom that comes With knowing exactly where you’re going ‘Cause is there you born and raise, I miss the kiskadee song in the day And the cricket chorus at night. I miss the twelve hours of sun, I miss the sno cone, I miss the red mango. I miss the soca And the piccong, I miss St James And the way it’s Never at rest. I miss the view Of the city from Lady Young Road, I miss the renegade Poui trees that…
Trinidad, A Love Letter
Tobago, I’m sorry, but you aren’t included in this letter. You are so wonderful and special and you deserve your own letter, but I am not the person to write it. Dear Trinidad, I love you. I love the curve of your coasts, I love the hills and swamps and landmarks that dot your form like freckles, I love the way the greens of the flora and the colours of the flowers take you and I love the way your accent dances across sentences and sings everything you say. You’re so talented and creative and intelligent, and you bring all…