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How beautiful you are, the Isle of Tobago!
Under the burning sun you live.
The spot of yours is groovy,
The harbours are for centuries to stay
Here from I’ll never go away.
10.3.2001

Santa sat and looked about the mess that lay before him
"How will I get these gifts all wrapped and gone by Christmas morning?"
The workshop looked as though it had been hit by a Tornado
But instead it was all the fault of *** he brought back from Tobago
A little shot in the elves egg nog would make them all work faster
But, as he saw the end result was short of a disaster
The more they drank the more they all got up and danced on tables
And in the end elf Juniper was left wearing only labels
She looked quite good despite her age, she was just about six thirty
And what she did with candy canes...well, you can say it was quite *****
The paper stretched from room to room, many miles were unravelled
Santa looked at the mess again, and thought "It's high time that I travelled"
He left the North to make a trip to hire cleaning staff
But , turned the reindeer right around, because he knew they'd laugh
How do you tell a person that you are about to hire
That the mess that they will soon clean up, is because my elves were wired
Santa thought that magic would be just the way to go
He would use it to clean up the mess, and nobody would know
The only problem with this stunt is that magic has a rule
He can only use it Christmas eve, it was not his private tool
The toys were strewn everywhere, and most were broke or nicked
He would have to wake the elves all up and to start things getting fixed
So, if you wake up Christmas morn and there is nought beneath your tree
Don't worry, Santas late, he should be there by three
He left a little late this year, but he will be by real quick
And he swore to never serve elves *****, or his name is not Saint Nick!

I am like a plane

I read somewhere or heard somewhere
I think on NPR

about what it's like to see the world!
from a plane window.

Imagining is having the sights before you!
from a plane window.

The clouds and the blue blue blue
It's the atmosphere.

Dear God! You're actually flying
Except you're in a whites only plane.

Oh! If only it could be bottled and given to the masses
Ms. Marlowe introduced me to Prometheus.

To search for a way
to have what you imagine in yr dreams and in books and hopes
to be before you
is a ropebridge.

It only snaps in the movies baby!
If you're any different
and it snaps for you,

you got death.
Which is what you wanted all along,

no?

When I was a child my mind was ratchet like a plane in turbulence
it is rickety
the space between Trinidad and Tobago makes me readjust my insides and outsides

Climbing Climbing he shakes and flatlines
He becomes a hero he knew all along

Modern Medicine can make freed slaves become the mothers and fathers of the rice cripsies

Wondering in my illusion...
Confused like a left behind bee
With my bed tasting every part of me
Empty full,empty full d brain goes in unison.

Got it!  Yes, Got it!
Best castle ever built in d air
What else,we already there
Do it!  Yes, Do it!

Rising on my feet,perfect time to take the next step,time to walk
I think I shld Hav a cup of tea bfor outstretching dat leg
A *** of soup, dear leg,more time I beg
Oh Miss stone heard about the Smith's let's have a talk


There goes a bird, it's flying!  It has wings!
There is G. Bush,he is a man, he is walking with two legs!
Ohw! Legs, let's outstretch Now, in our heads we've hurt no eggs
Time to take d next step,bfore dat, a cup of coffee pls.

NBA, La liga,Rugby nation,nd Mr Cricket
Soap, Opera's, Mark Spencer, D$G, Trinidad and Tobago
My jaw aches, dear pillow I need ur kiss, a journey awaits to forego
It's night already,lets sleep more ND enjoy d lullaby of the owl and cricket.

Ohw! Legs, our walk,our journey, do you forget?  
Move fast! Move fast!.. What I see is blur
Our castle, My castle where have you gone?!,at afar I saw it's windows, neigh I see no door.
Like a smoke in its habitat, it has vanished,hello sweet regret.

Would have lived like a prince ND danced like a princess in her cot
Talked with Bush ND eaten with the queen
Owned NBA, Trinidad and Tobago.....yes would have.. Yes would have
Dressed like a king nd slept like a baby.. Of course would have, of course  would have
But No!  It's not

mate, you're faking it,
you're no white-knight
in shining armour,
forget it, you ain't
what you're singing about,
mate,
forget it, hashtag it,
when you turn 50
you'll end up
filming a *****
with some eastern european
peasant-girl...
cheap-exploitative exotica,
just before you dip your ****
in Brazil;
ooh.... or do you just mean oh?
whatever mate,
i couldn't really care to mind;
the ***** ain't my mother,
well, we're well affiliated
with treating dogs better than humans,
so where's the argument?
in Trinidad & Tobago or
the Ivory Coast? tell me! tell me, *****,
for a worthwhile cuppa!

The Jamaica Jewel's sails are full with skull & bones on high mast,
canons thunder, I pillage & plunder with a trim keel my ship is fast.
My boots and vest are leather black with sword & buckles of gold,
when sunlight reflects, landlubber's quake & their blood runs cold.
I always dress in black except from my hat a plume of vermillion,
A pirate's chest full of treasure and pieces of eight by the million.

Just the sound of my name sends shivers to timbers of all,
I am Capitan Blood Head, on mermaid lips and ports-o-call.
On sand & beach Capitan Blood Head wanted alive or dead,
where rivers become waterfalls posters for bounty is what's read.
So the legend lives on, from Key Largo, San Juan & St. Kitts Cay,
from Trinidad and Tobago to Saint John and Montego Bay.

Don't you dare cross Capitan Blood Head and his Scallywags,
and don't even think about The Capitan's favorite Sea Hags,
or walk the plank to Davy Jones' locker you sank. AGRRR!!!

SHOE BOX

Curiously
no shoes

only a dance card
from 1932

totally filled in
by only 2 beau

who Tango'd &
Pas a Doble'd her

alternately
all night

waiting for her
to choose

one or the other
(both brothers) .

She choose the fair-haired one
(for his sense of fun)    

the red-haired one
(always so moody)    

never forgave her or
his brother

became a missionary
in Trinidad & Tobago
.

A lock of baby's hair
(still so perfect)    

bound tightly in pink ribbon

lost after only a week
of which they would never speak

as the dried up tears
like shrivelled mummified spiders

resting now
among a trove of birthday cards

that declare the passing time
gaudier year by year.

Old love letters
written in intense violet

on almost see-through
onion thin yellow paper.

The shoes she remembers
were a violent red

chosen for the same shade
red as her lipstick.

A neat ticket
for a Venetian vaporetto

unused from
1962

with a telephone number
scribbled in scrawl

hurriedly across it.

A beautiful button
(a work of art in itself)    

from a favourite cloak
left behind in a favourite pub

as England win
the World Cup

made her look
like Little Red Riding Hood

or as her hubby put it:
'A fairy tale...*** on legs! '

A ginger tom
(with one eye missing)  
sleeps on top

of all
this

as if it were his
own private berth

in this ship of foolish
things

her box of things
unaware

that Virginia
is dead.