How dare you spit upon his garb!
This peaceful bredda who by nature only loves,
When you should have been his Rasta queen
Your ghastly behaviour drew a scene
And I- woman just like you
Hang my head in shame
As you defile our name.
Selassie-I know seh di Rasta man took a deep breath
To honour his philosophy,
But like a lamb to the slaughter,
he was reduced
In front of the whole community.
He sought calm in his Rasta chant
Swallowed his pride,
Turned the next cheek, and with human dignity.
Yet that pouncing Jezebel
Delilah,
Demon picknie,
Shameless femininity
Minimized her king,
Cared nothing that he is masculine.
She is no empress
and certainly not a Ital-dawtah!
She mocked and cursed him
Bullied him and sullied his character.
Vilified him as the on-lookers magnified
Scorned, mistreated and humiliated.
But when upon each other their backs were turned
The fury in the lion roared
And in that moment, he went against his Rasta chant
And knocked her out flat on her face.
I won’t apologize for feeling appeased
For you are a disgrace to the female race!
Categories:
rasta, 10th grade, 11th grade,
Form: Narrative
Colonial master:
A lot was doing faster
Many stubborn chains able to loosen
Like the vessels whom Christ had chosen.
Colonial master:
Hatefully fought by Rasta
But they were also safeguarding Jamaican rights,
Which sometimes would their sanctity lose
In the darkness of tragic nights
At the hands of The Conquered by booze.
This Great Master though was a great slave
To every African cultivable soil
And ready to hysterically rave,
If we twice looked in the direction of our own crude oil
Ever willing to perish wherever it was in huge deposits:
An assertion of blacks and white being irreversible opposites
More than fifty years now he our bridges built,
Whose survival lengthen our Engineers’ guilt
For having worn the same bowler hats
And chances had to use the same enormous CATS
Beside daring to look as much decisive
In the rarest of bow ties, very massive!
Categories:
rasta, betrayal, child abuse, corruption,
Form: Rhyme
They were not killing the ganja field
They were polluting our land.
Chemically implementing every thing that grow to feed rastaman
The Prime Minister with his weak invention.
Is no longer able to feed us food without chemical.
Everywhere you go you see.
Rasta selling his weed.
Little does he know. They are loaded with
Genetically engineered seed
Dread locks fell off
Baby a bawl
Man can no longer plant on his farm
And sickness plague the land.
We need good governance
Because the one we have
No longer make sense.
Categories:
rasta, care, community, fear, sad,
Form: I do not know?
Everyday they watch him
Descending the stairs
But he doesn't feel uneasy
Despite the offensive stares
His eyes stay red
But that's the least of his cares
Rasta can't smoke in privacy
Because neighbors don't respect privacy
Categories:
rasta, drug, identity, prejudice, urban,
Form: Free verse
Rasta Master(For Bob Marley)
Like the lion of Judah ,
Lying on the coast of hope,
With the turban of gold crown,
From the mountain of glory,
His mantle of office adorn.
Clad in a regalia of reggae,
To do the regatta acloud again,
The buffalo soldier hosts the banquet.
All around the world,
Through the Poles,through the Equator,
Jah made whole,man no dismantle.
The flame burning with glory,
The lake of the bulb on Bob.
A robust heap of dreads on Robert,
It's a summer holiday in Marley.
I'm bereaved at the Sheriff's.
Redress,regret,emotion-the notion.
"Will be together; is this love that I'm feeling?"
To feel filled;is this real?
No mummies,no makings.
Wanna hold on to love-I n I,
Right place of fold;to stick aright.
Adeola Yusuf Amuni
Categories:
rasta, fantasy
Form: Epitaph
On an cool Autumn night,
Eerie and full of dread.
...not fear...but locks.
Darkness is embraced by light,
Peace stirs in the midnight wind,
...not a calm...but a gesture of his hand.
Simple and sweet...a mystery hides
Behind the pleasant mood.
...not a state of mind...but the smile on his face.
With a skull peering over his shoulder,
Silent growls begin to grrr.
...not growls of a wolf...but his hunger of sweets.
The mood begins to fade,
As a black bird paused in flight,
...not in the air...but on his shirt.
Sets the tone for the night,
As he dresses up for Halloween,
...he’s not Bob Marley...he’s Rasta Ruben.
__________________________________
For Carols Browns “Funny Spooks” contest
My reference material is in my blog photos...
Categories:
rasta, funnyautumn,
Form: Free verse
Rasta ringnride
Hop up; get inside
Travel roun da town
Hear some funky sound
Me bus me pride an joy
Me music don't annoy
Me keep it in me head
Me sings it in me bed.
I travel all roun town
To ferry sick and lame
The people phone,
I pick them up
No other bus the same.
I drive me bus for Africa
When I'm in Sollihull
I drive me bus for freedom;
me bus in wondeful !
Categories:
rasta, funny, life, people, me,
Form: Narrative