Nod to the Poet

Nod to the Poet

The Native Poet

Wake up in heaven today

Look down on Guyana

Sigh and had this to say

What happened to my beloved Guyana?

Prosperity and freedom have come

Everybody and they dog driving car

Calois thing of the past

Traffic jam a new phenomenon

Every child has electronic array

To blow Batman’s away

The biggest complaint in the land

Is shop taking too long to sell

“take this bill and carry it there

When she stamp it, bring it back”

Money burning holes in pocket

Tek the money an’ gimme the ting

Pickney goggling Santa arrival time

People texting in the same room

Digital interaction a Berlin Wall

The airwaves full of new sounds

An abundance of radio stations

Jamaican dj’s callin’ the shots

Bloodclath Guyanese idiots

And yet amongst all this technology

Progress and prosperity

We have become

A people bereft of intellect,

Guidance or Ideology

Four newspapers full of fluff

Mighty pens used as powder puffs

The inefficient bureaucracy

Built On the back

of the sugar levy

Dominates the unproductive sphere

Everyone swinging in an office chair

No more cutting cane

Or planting rice

Goldfield workers in decline

More NGO’s than companies

“Have a crick in your back?

We have an NGO fuh dat!”

“Can’t afford enough aloo?

We have one fuh dat too!”

Fund us from the UN

IDB or Internet

A sad use of local talent

Net producers of hot air

Scanning the ten regions

There must be signs of life

Grey matter cannot be hid

Like truth it must out

I see those making claims

Sadly nothing to back it up

Rousers that fail the Rabble

The conman has won their day

The composer leading disciples astray

Standing on Guyana’s prized possession

To deliver impassioned cussin’

A mercenary worshipper

Of the temple of mammon

Unheeded advice about the muzzle

You put on your mouth

So deep in the trough

You've lost your credibility

An Oasis of intellectual illusion

Just another delusion

One more with clouded vision

  

Visionaries need pragmatists

To translate thoughts to deeds

Ideas to fruition

Or they just become paving stones

On the road to perdition

  

Serendipity now

I am going back to sleep

When I wake in twenty fifteen

I hope to see less sheep

But for now I count

you jumping my fence

This bare night without comfort

I’d call your names

But it causes me grief

I weep in despair

I plead you awaken soon

My Dear Guyana