50 POEMS of Life, Guyana, India, Smiles, What goes around comes around, Tributes, Women, Violence and the Environment.
THE CONSUMER
He thinks they intentionally do not curb
All the ills of this society
For there’d be no need for government
Thus time is wasted on trivial trials
Useless inquiries and commissions
For information that can be obtained
From the man in the street
Preferring to keep many idle civil servants
Whose complacency can’t be disturbed
Fomenting class and official barbarity
Disallowing the consumer to vent
His anger by red tape and denials
Flowered by fancy talk and omissions
Heedless of the level they attained
For the soup of the other side is so sweet
When you are rich and others are mendicants.
They now look down on them
As they make them wait in line
While they have breaks perpetually
Spending time gossiping in the washroom
‘Cause of a hangover from inebriation
Like clock-watchers
Hiding in a closet manicuring nails
Or playing cards or dominoes
Perpetuated by a cultureless system
Saying if you don’t wine or dine
You’d be singled out personally
Refusing to play ball in the coffee room
Or suffer the pangs of crude molestation
From body-snatchers
With tentacle prehensile tails
Potbellies, bowlegs and dirty toes.
Sometimes the females so defenseless
Against their horny bosses
Are penalized for squealing
Which the corporation always hushes up
By pampering their executives
The pretty secretary either toe the line
Become an office plaything or quit
Depending on her financial status
Thus many women are overcome by stress
Refusing to have a few tosses
On the carpet by bluntly saying
No! And if the molestation doesn’t stop
The last of the prerogatives
Is not to lament or whine
In such an environment you’re a misfit
Getting another job is conscientious.
When the consumer doesn’t extend
An invitation to a celebrity
It’s not because he is a scrooge
It’s because his home is bare
Without furniture or frills
And he is embarrassed
He thinks maybe you’re too high
To come down on his clean floor
And would not want to bend
Sit with him and sip coffee
For you may be a staunch stooge
Without compassion and care
Without any trouble paying bills
Never been harassed
Greasing the hinges as you ply
Your hypocrisy that shows like a sore.
Excerpt
He thinks they intentionally do not curb
All the ills of this society
For there’d be no need for government
Thus time is wasted on trivial trials
Useless inquiries and commissions
For information that can be obtained
From the man in the street
Preferring to keep many idle civil servants
Whose complacency can’t be disturbed
Fomenting class and official barbarity
Disallowing the consumer to vent
His anger by red tape and denials
Flowered by fancy talk and omissions
Heedless of the level they attained
For the soup of the other side is so sweet
When you are rich and others are mendicants.
They now look down on them
As they make them wait in line
While they have breaks perpetually
Spending time gossiping in the washroom
‘Cause of a hangover from inebriation
Like clock-watchers
Hiding in a closet manicuring nails
Or playing cards or dominoes
Perpetuated by a cultureless system
Saying if you don’t wine or dine
You’d be singled out personally
Refusing to play ball in the coffee room
Or suffer the pangs of crude molestation
From body-snatchers
With tentacle prehensile tails
Potbellies, bowlegs and dirty toes.
Sometimes the females so defenseless
Against their horny bosses
Are penalized for squealing
Which the corporation always hushes up
By pampering their executives
The pretty secretary either toe the line
Become an office plaything or quit
Depending on her financial status
Thus many women are overcome by stress
Refusing to have a few tosses
On the carpet by bluntly saying
No! And if the molestation doesn’t stop
The last of the prerogatives
Is not to lament or whine
In such an environment you’re a misfit
Getting another job is conscientious.
When the consumer doesn’t extend
An invitation to a celebrity
It’s not because he is a scrooge
It’s because his home is bare
Without furniture or frills
And he is embarrassed
He thinks maybe you’re too high
To come down on his clean floor
And would not want to bend
Sit with him and sip coffee
For you may be a staunch stooge
Without compassion and care
Without any trouble paying bills
Never been harassed
Greasing the hinges as you ply
Your hypocrisy that shows like a sore.
“The woman or man who is a poet, or fiction writer, or playwright, or all of these, is engaged constantly in a jazz ballet of vocabularies, passions, genders, histories, perspectives, death, love, and life. The music of revelation announces itself to
