Some days yu know, mi just don't andastan
How a man can do di tings him do, an see himself a man.
Him seh dat god give im good sense a will and a soul
to know right ting fram wrang ting, to know pit from pothole.
But im covet an steal an shed blood
like a beast. Then im walk inna church
and pray god give im peace.
Is a human condition an a weakness a flesh
Is flaw in im naycha, a thorn in him breast.
But we human creecha, ought betta than best.
Ought draw a distinction from fish and from fowl.
Ought rise above avarice , greed and the rest.
But sometime I feel sure that the writing on wall.
will come to fruition and mankind will fall.
Is a small part of hu-man sunk deep in we core
what comes up and sprout wings and carry us shore.
Is that thing there, part spirit, part will, part divine.
What pull us from struction then skitter, then soar.
Then beat wings in hubris like Icarus lore.
This is written with a mild flavor of west Indian/Belizean patois.
There is still no real dictionary for the way we speak. but some have tried.