Fri | Nov 22, 2024
Poems

Poems

Published:Sunday | March 3, 2024 | 12:07 AM

Nightmare 2030

The pungent smell of iron and streets painted red,

The huge pile up of carcasses from the decomposing dead.

The irreversible damage, toxic waste and litter,

I see Nightmare 2030, a title that’s fitter.

The Jamaica we want versus what we’re creating,

It’s not in line with the future vision unless I’m mistaken,

A place to do business and raise families,

Currently a place with a multitude of tragedies.

We speak of a vision yet we ourselves so blind,

Too impaired to see the basic need of being kind,

The need to show love and show respect to all,

A country without insight is one that will fall.

A child who doesn’t see the need for an education,

A pastor who forgets how to pray,

A nation on the course of tribulation,

A society in a state of decay.

We need to remember who we are what it means to have freedom,

The issues of inequality, poverty, and crime should be seldom.

We are no longer slaves but still being held captive,

Holding each other back with practices that are maladaptive.

Mother with baby in hand and one on the way,

Father nowhere to be found after conception day.

Some persons so poor all they have is money,

Politicians taking the country for a joke, one that’s not funny.

If we are to avoid the injustice and the bloodshed,

Discontinue hearing on the news how many shot dead.

The violence in schools and children being abused,

Police brutality, corruption and being generally confused.

We are to first look at ourselves and always do what’s right,

Not for fame, money, but simply for the good fight.

In 2030, would we have realised that vision.

Or will it end up being a failed mission?

– Davin Stewart

The Colour of Love

Black lives matter

As much as white lives do

I can hear Brother Malcolm

Say it’s just a case

Of the chickens coming home

To roost

Only it’s we who became the dogs

You set on us

And we who first decided to shoot

And as five cops lay dead

And the hens are scratching

Near the vine

I hear the phone ring

And it’s Dr. King

Calling on the line

He says, it’s only peace

Between the races

That can help us in this time

And I have a dream

Oh I have a dream

Even in your time

It doesn’t really matter

Who first pulled the trigger

Hate is ugly

Any face

And hatred doesn’t kill

Ideas

Only the Human Race

So as we battle all the demons

And prejudices of our time

Let love be the only colour

That matters in our lives.

– Lisa Gaye Taylor