Email Poem

Your IP Address: 18.227.21.218
Your Email Address:
To Email Address:
Subject
Personal Note:
Poem Title:
Poem
I am standing here looking in the corner of despair as the little town braced for what is moving around. My dry cracked hands with malnourished fingers and cracked up finger nails reminds me that reality is coming to terms with the sun. My body has withered down and the people are looking at me with a frown and here I am looking at the destined town whose covering is about to be moved and everyone is walking around without shoes. I am standing here because I have something to share. 

My heart is heavy and I would like to meet my real family, I want to leave this old wretched town and spend some time with my international family at home. I cannot do anything for people who are broken and roam about with the dead with hatred screaming from their. I have nobody here with whom I can share. It is quite obvious that everything is a paid political assignment with stuffed guts and an engagement ring. "Kill the   he shouted, No man, all want is to get rid of him out of the town and leave destiny moving around."

I am still trying to figure it out, and understand what everything is all about and what I have to do with these people in the town. It is the political war and the political scam that have people bruising all over the land, it is pay to harass, pay to scam, pay to use and pay to abuse, pay to attack and pay to confuse  so that they can walk into my brand new shoes. 

The Gods would not allow that and the people will walk  around rubbing their hands without shoulder. They have been preying on me for many years without anything to share; everywhere I turn its pure unkind words that make my spirit grieves and the message is clear that the end is near.

Come, come, come and meet me all the away before my spirit goes astray, my spirit is soaring high with a bold message from the sky. Come and take me overseas to meet with my friends and family and end this chapter in this town with turned corn meal and alabaster clowns. Please bring my ticket and my new script and my new dish and pull down the bully pulpit.

Come and meet at Victoria Street and feel my heart beat, the month will soon be done and destiny will be on the run. My lips are dry and tears are welled up into my eyes.The time has come for me to leave this Jamaican misery. Cooks and chefs, the music and the books, I have been standing tall in the middle of the brawl and I am leaving because I am standing tall. I can see them waving over the gallery and they are waiting to welcome me. I am leaving to start a brand new life in the middle of paradise. I a leaving and I am waiting for you to come and receive me.
CAPTCHA Preview
Type the characters you see in the picture
Required