The Power of My Pen
I have been trying to find the right words to pen this verse, but since I came to this country my words are suppressed and my voice is oppressed. The wind is blowing furiously, and I am very unhappy. Nothing is coming up into my pen even when I look high above the heavens. I can feel my heart reeling, and I can hear the drums beating, and deep down inside my spirit is groaning. The sun is breathing hot heat, and dry air is tingling under my feet, tears are welled up into my eyes and they are not flowing.
All I can see is corrupted and lazy police men driving up and down the street, corrupted church people, corrupted government officials, frantic bus men and taxi men screaming and shouting at reluctant passengers; they have no real business in town but were paid to support the taxi men, dilly dallying and gallivanting over the town. They race up and down the bad roads and dilapidated streets dropping and picking up passengers destined to Belarus and Santa Cruz.
I have seen similar activities in America, Malaysia and Singapore, Argentina, Panama and even in the People’s Republic of China. Many of them are paid contractors, and others are ordinary drivers, and taxi men who are not part of the satanic loop. Everything is choreographed and normal people pretending to be mentally deranged men parading up and down the street. The little mall that is supposed to be the best place in town is also running down. Many businesses are closed, and the illegal ones are struggling to get along. I have been to different places, and I have seen different faces; I have mingled with different races, but I have never met such cases. It is really heart rending, and it is not at all entertaining. I find myself around disgruntled family members who are not happy that I came because I don’t have anything to share and they don’t really care. I am tormented by greedy people who are always begging for food and money but I don't have a penny to give them.
Everywhere I go, I have seen different types of show but this time around, I am stunned by the level of ignorance that I have observed in this little town. When country come to town, they dress them like a clown, everyone screaming and shouting while others pretend to be destitute. It leaves many people unsympathetic and confused.
All types of people were sent to the mall, and they looked as if they wanted to create a brawl or perhaps they were just performing, even so it is degrading and demoralizing. I hear them cussing and swearing, threat of murder and threat of killing someone coming from their mouth. They badmouth and bad talk friends and strangers and a mixture of generation walking up and down the pavement licking the dried up KFC legs and wobbling along. Big and little, young and old and even those who could not fit into wheel chair were walking and staring at me and uttering words that I could not understand. They came in buses, cars, trucks and vans but they did not have a destined plan. They were instructed to walk up and down the steps and play loud music in front of me. I have had different experiences many of which have brought me to tears but I have learned to live with them over the years.
I have been trying to leave this place the first day I came to town; I have had many days of ridicule, and people calling me a fool, the call me crazy and they poke words after words at me. Words that have no place in the dictionary have been swirled at me. Several times they told me to suck my mother’s pu*** and wipe my face with the towel. The situation in the west has caused me to take a deep breath and every day I have to do something positive to drown out the terrible sound and the undesirable words around me.
I have never had anyone calling me names but I had to put up with their stupid games. They stared and laugh at me but I sit quietly with my mobile phone and stared directly in my computer. I watched them dancing and singing and trying to promote their culture and I know that it is the beginning and the end.
Before I came to this town, I have met some intolerable people with extremely rude awakening; they laughed at my excess luggage until they found themselves carrying the same heavy baggage. What’s more their baggage was trice heavier than mine and everything they do it starts to decline. When I thought that my troubles were over, it was infested with maggot when I reached Jamaica. Landing in place that is not my hometown, I can see many people moving around, and garbage littered around the town. The same chequer streaked taxi bearing the Metropolitan police logo began parading day and night up and down the town. But the little that they had left was thrown to the ground.
I am disappointed with everything, and it feels as if the world is coming in. Someone evil is in this culture and they are trying to paint the citizens as man men and mad women a substitute for what is deemed to be bad behavior. I still have not gotten over this horrible feeling that has captivated me since I enter a world of pretense and big men hiding under the shadows conducting their operation. I have experienced similar situation over and over and everywhere I go they are always trying to push me around, everybody has been taking liberty of me, and intruding on my privacy without even asking me. I will wait until the appointed time to tell them what is on my mind.
I have been on the road for several days, having sleepless night and avoiding premeditated rigorous fight. I have not ate properly for several weeks and I have been trying desperately to leave but everywhere I go they block my plans and I just cannot get the breakthrough to go. I have had all type of words swirled at me from a wicked woman to a battyman. What on earth is really going on? Who are these people, and if your guess is as good as mine you can help me to solve this riddle.
I finally was able to pen this verse because I am feeling deeply hurt. I am pleading and waiting for someone to get me out of this dangerous town so that I can restart my life again. I want to be around people that love me and appreciate me. I detest the smell of marijuana and I hate the music in this culture. They sing nasty music about women, mock, and threatened gay men and the sound is always playing day and night and I cannot sleep at nights. Marijuana, infest the street and police and soldiers are walking around with big long guns looking for intruders but the people are not afraid of them. Please help me to get out of this town before I am drowned. I just want to live somewhere peaceful that is not America or Jamaica.
Copyright © Christine Phillips | Year Posted 2019
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