One must take charge of his or her own life
Someone once wrote that
Life, like marbles block is given to all,
However, everybody doesn’t know how to layered such blocks
Even if they read the manuals on life and survival skills
With careful observation, it seem that the local
women spirit cracks so easily on the small Island of Bim
as the men moves on to other women’s
Leaving many on suicidal watch
I visited my old friends, on the island as time permits
And nothing seem to change, they older folks
Weakness still shows:
they lives seem to be on a standstill,
The little island girl in me Grieves within for them
Over the years, I have grown into a stronger woman
I demand respect from my friends,
especially the men
Its more women and not enough men to fulfill
Their ****** appetites, so life on the island become a *** war,
Infidelity is higher than ever,
where the flying fish is plentiful
whereas, some of the women seem so pitiful.
Older men with younger women
The middle-aged women either have to join a church
Or unfortunately,
lined the walls of the dance hall,
or pubs
While looking for love in all the wrong places,
The nights slowly moves into the wean hours of the morning
while the Barskeepers promotes the beer three for ten dollars
Snip snaps sounds is heard throughout their establishments
It seems more like humiliation than enjoyment
In the meantime broken hearts merges all over the place
The only patronage that seem to be having a time of
their lives was the tourists from abroad, who show
signs of unsteady gaits; but were having a wonderful time
On the Island of Bim
The barbecues grills filterers golden spark,
the music
Entices the air
the salted breeze, balm our lips even
Merging with the taste of the Bank beers,
and it was all well
on the island for that short period.
However, with all my finding and frustration, nothing
Can beat cold, cold coconut water
or a refreshing Bank Beer
May 25, 2014
May 25, 2014 at 1:14 PM UTC
One must take charge of his or her own life
Someone once wrote that
Life, like marbles block is given to all,
However, everybody doesn’t know how to layered such blocks
Even if they read the manuals on life and survival skills
With careful observation, it seem that the local
women spirit cracks so easily on the small Island of Bim
as the men moves on to other women’s
Leaving many on suicidal watch
I visited my old friends, on the island as time permits
And nothing seem to change, they older folks
Weakness still shows:
they lives seem to be on a standstill,
The little island girl in me Grieves within for them
Over the years, I have grown into a stronger woman
I demand respect from my friends,
especially the men
Its more women and not enough men to fulfill
Their ****** appetites, so life on the island become a *** war,
Infidelity is higher than ever,
where the flying fish is plentiful
whereas, some of the women seem so pitiful.
Older men with younger women
The middle-aged women either have to join a church
Or unfortunately,
lined the walls of the dance hall,
or pubs
While looking for love in all the wrong places,
The nights slowly moves into the wean hours of the morning
while the Barskeepers promotes the beer three for ten dollars
Snip snaps sounds is heard throughout their establishments
It seems more like humiliation than enjoyment
In the meantime broken hearts merges all over the place
The only patronage that seem to be having a time of
their lives was the tourists from abroad, who show
signs of unsteady gaits; but were having a wonderful time
On the Island of Bim
The barbecues grills filterers golden spark,
the music
Entices the air
the salted breeze, balm our lips even
Merging with the taste of the Bank beers,
and it was all well
on the island for that short period.
However, with all my finding and frustration, nothing
Can beat cold, cold coconut water
or a refreshing Bank Beer
In the end, only three things matter: how much you loved, how gently you lived, and how gracefully you let go of things not meant for you.
— Buddha
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