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**** me dead dis is not Trinidad we living in dis is Hell.

Man ****** women and man,  killing children and duh give ah dam.
Duh take men land or they guh chop off your hand,
Women loykey so every man is every woman man.
Yes in dis island,  Government is only tricks and scams.

**** me dead, dis is not Trinidad we living in, dis is  Hell.

Men up here different, them duh chase fly buh chasing family instead.
Men beating men if they play mad and touch their bread.
Duh talk about their gyal, watch them and more than five bullets in Yuh head.
Betham and Lavantille, watch any man too hard,  well sure Yuh dead.
Because when their guns done talk,  there is no more to be said.

**** me dead, dis is no Trinidad we living in, dis is Hell.

Women want all de gun man, so money coming quick, like quicksand and quick hand.
Who tell women to cheat,  man duh care over here, women dead too.
Man will buy the world for them, when they done, he want back everything even food.
It's plenty clues, Trini men can't shoot gun, so its either magnet bullet or they using glue.

One more thing too, some police have all wah they need,  they will burn down your **** field and geh high from de same ****.
Trinidad izza mad place
Sav Sep 2019
I have finally realized why I have never felt pretty.

It is because, because...

I have dated several people who have called me beautiful.

But I could never understand why they would say that.

I assumed it was a formality.

For years, and years, some people have been attracted to me.

And I didn't know why.

Now that I am finally living in my correct sexuality.

With a fiance soon to be wife.

I am starting to understand.

She calls me beautiful, and pretty.

And doesn't under stand why I don't agree.

And it's because I never see anyone who looks like me.

So mixed, mixed salad.

Darkish skin, asian eyes, trini lips trini hips, white something? I don't know.

I look like nothing anyone has ever known.

My hair is both Trini, white, asian, and whatever else is peppered into who I am.

I am an almost complete puzzle of races.

I think only I can fully grasp that.
Charles Sturies Jan 2017
Recently I've been reading a book about American Bandstand from   Philadelphia 1957-1963
and it's given me what I call the Bandstand Blues
where I recall a bygone era
when things were much simpler
and wish I was coping now
like I did back then
rather than being swarmed under by the undercurrent of
the jet age and the age of the computer,
where I had teen crushes
on the like of Arlene Sullivan, Carole Sealdeferri, and Trini Giordano
such that I daydreamed about being famous like they were someday
and going off and meeting them and dancing with them
Unfortunately that dream never
came true
Being a loner back then, I was envious
of the teen parties all the regulars had that I read about in the teen magazines
I would have like a
social life like that
wanting to go with what were considered the truly neat girls in school,
and vicariously imagining
myself up there as one of the
regulars in what seemed like
their bump and grind dances
and discovering my puberty that way
rather than through several girlfriends I had in school
a little bit
admiring the nice story of
**** Clark and wanting to
emulate him someday
which I fell far short of
as I grew old
although like I say, I managed to acquire some
wealth later on in life
Wanting to have trendy clothes
and trendy hairstyles
like the boys did
rather than being
rather dowdy in my opinion then,
and imagining what it would be like
growing up in probably what was a little more
sophisticated atmosphere back east
as I could tell from family vacations there
But I do cherish the fascination
The good side of bandstand in the book
Pen pals from the very start
scented paper and feathers of pink
inside a pre-kissed envelope of white
You, writing about the taste of Trinidad
by the sweet-burning smoke of a pipe blend,
me, whispering to you about the beauty of a snowflake  
as it comes swiveling down from heaven;
Letter writers of ancient times, hoping for love's arrow  
You, singing a Christmas Parang in a Trini voice of honey  
me,  with my faux fourrure and Christmas boots of leather;
Lovers yet to be my love but if this year I get my winter wish,
I will meet you by the Pigeon Point,   on December 29th,
with a glass of *** in one hand
and a plate of festive rice on the other
Together we will melt the last glacial memory
from our burning waiting hearts.

December 7 2021  

Meaning of Fourrure / french word for fur
Donall Dempsey Apr 2018
AN ALTERNATIVE ENDING TO A DAY
IN '63/////// IN A PARALLEL UNIVERSE

She got out of bed
with that end-of-the-world feeling.

You know the kind
worse than any bad hair day to the power of 2.

She wished she didn't think
in clichés and mathematical terms.

She put her left foot
in the chamber ***

she had **** forgot
to put back under.

Glad she had
only peed in it.

Yuck factor - squared.

She took off her night dress
dried her own *** soiled sole.

Maybe one's own *****
is good for the skin.

"N'est-ce pas?"
the only French she knew

beside "Merci!
and "Non!"

She then uttered
an unsurprising word

she would have never
to be heard uttering.

"F!" she said.
"I just said F
!"

She deleted the demotic
in her mind.

"Awake, o sword!"
she quoted the Lord.

Her palms
sweaty...itchy.

The radio sang to her
told her what it would do

if it had a hammer!

She sang along.
She had thing for Trini Lopez.

Imagined him kissing her
she kissing him.

The mirror threw her
reflection at her.

Her eyes catch
the idea of her.

Her mind winces.

A spot growing
to a fulsome point

on the very tip of her
nose.....nOOOOOO!

"Doubleplusungood!"
she scolds her life

Deciding whether to pop it
or not.

Or not - won.
She went cross-eyed looking at it.

Naked she stood
at the window

as if she were a painting
looking out

imagine her self
a Dalí.

A woman full of
drawers!

"Lord, oh Lord!
What next?"

She asked
the mirror.

The clock said it was
7:07.

It was a Tuesday like
any other.

The flash blinded her.
Her eyes rolled down her cheeks.

It was
the end of the world.
Donall Dempsey Apr 2019
AN ALTERNATIVE ENDING TO A DAY
IN '63/////// IN A PARALLEL UNIVERSE

She got out of bed
with that end-of-the-world feeling.

You know the kind
worse than any bad hair day to the power of 2.

She wished she didn't think
in clichés and mathematical terms.

She put her left foot
in the chamber ***

she had **** forgot
to put back under.

Glad she had
only peed in it.

Yuck factor - squared.

She took off her night dress
dried her own *** soiled sole.

Maybe one's own *****
is good for the skin.

"N'est-ce pas?"
the only French she knew

beside "Merci!
and "Non!"

She then uttered
an unsurprising word

she would have never
to be heard uttering.

"F!" she said.
"I just said F
!"

She deleted the demotic
in her mind.

"Awake, o sword!"
she quoted the Lord.

Her palms
sweaty...itchy.

The radio sang to her
told her what it would do

if it had a hammer!

She sang along.
She had thing for Trini Lopez.

Imagined him kissing her
she kissing him.

The mirror threw her
reflection at her.

Her eyes catch
the idea of her.

Her mind winces.

A spot growing
to a fulsome point

on the very tip of her
nose.....nOOOOOO!

"Doubleplusungood!"
she scolds her life

Deciding whether to pop it
or not.

Or not - won.
She went cross-eyed looking at it.

Naked she stood
at the window

as if she were a painting
looking out

imagine her self
a Dalí.

A woman full of
drawers!

"Lord, oh Lord!
What next?"

She asked
the mirror.

The clock said it was
7:07.

It was a Tuesday like
any other.

The flash blinded her.
Her eyes rolled down her cheeks.

It was
the end of the world.
I am so weird.
I am so natural.
I am so simple.
I am so different.
Because I forgive and forget but yet still forgive and remember,
And I give love stronger to the ones that hurt me, hoping they won't again.
So insane, another man would say,
Or like a Trini, "duh mad over no girl"
But I'm in love, at least I can say I feel it and show it.
So I am a looser for love and a winner for pain.
But I feel it deep in my heart and soul, so God so help me I know I'm sane.

I am who I am, I am what I am, I am because only I am.
Zywa Jun 2020
The kitchen and the large bed
are Mum's, Pippi and I
live throughout the house

where everything must be in its place
I'm working on it every day
just like Mum, and sweet mouse

Neil hangs on his tail
he watches and sniffs
then I pet him, he likes that



I was two, now I'm seventeen
my room is mine, and Trini
is mine, my stuff

friends, jobs, money and all
the things Mum would not approve
if she knew, are mine

all mine
even if they explode
and I can't help but cry
Collection “The Big Secret”
Tylor Feb 2018
T
Untitled
Fact of Fiction
She seems happy
Nothing seems to rouse her
A rock battled by many omnipotent waves
One the absence of my presence didn’t faze
I do miss the sea in which I swam with her
I dove head first, though, she tried to deter

T and T
Us both Trini
Spanish melded with a bit Hindi
And the concoction, not meant for me
See, to be or not be
Nothing like this usually comes free
Leaves always fall eventually  
Don’t matter the reign of tree
T?
Was this sip of tea, reali-tea?
Or a lie told by me to me?
The departure was all too easy
Though I was 0.5% serious, see?
The exit invitation was taken all too easily
Now I see your smile, and the jokes on me.
Donall Dempsey Apr 2020
AN ALTERNATIVE ENDING TO A DAY
IN '63/////// IN A PARALLEL UNIVERSE

She got out of bed
with that end-of-the-world feeling.

You know the kind
worse than any bad hair day to the power of 2.

She wished she didn't think
in clichés and mathematical terms.

She put her left foot
in the chamber ***

she had **** forgot
to put back under.

Glad she had
only peed in it.

Yuck factor - squared.

She took off her night dress
dried her own *** soiled sole.

Maybe one's own *****
is good for the skin.

"N'est-ce pas?"
the only French she knew

beside "Merci!
and "Non!"

She then uttered
an unsurprising word

she would have never
to be heard uttering.

"F!" she said.
"I just said F
!"

She deleted the demotic
in her mind.

"Awake, o sword!"
she quoted the Lord.

Her palms
sweaty...itchy.

The radio sang to her
told her what it would do

if it had a hammer!

She sang along.
She had thing for Trini Lopez.

Imagined him kissing her
she kissing him.

The mirror threw her
reflection at her.

Her eyes catch
the idea of her.

Her mind winces.

A spot growing
to a fulsome point

on the very tip of her
nose.....nOOOOOO!

"Doubleplusungood!"
she scolds her life

Deciding whether to pop it
or not.

Or not - won.
She went cross-eyed looking at it.

Naked she stood
at the window

as if she were a painting
looking out

imagine her self
a Dalí.

A woman full of
drawers!

"Lord, oh Lord!
What next?"

She asked
the mirror.

The clock said it was
7:07.

It was a Tuesday like
any other.

The flash blinded her.
Her eyes rolled down her cheeks.

It was
the end of the world.

— The End —