Tuesday, November 24, 2015

The Day of the Umbrawla.

Umbrella...you think umbrella is some ordinary li’l object? 

Umbrella got powers. 

We the people here say you must never, ever open a’ 

umbrella in the house or it gon bring jumbie - that is, ghost - 

into your home.

Umbrella can bring entertainment too!

Look at the sheepish expression on people face when their 

umbrella histe-up she hem in the breeze. Weyyyy-heyyy.

Me Cousin can verify the veracity of such laughter. 

She was a student nurse in the Caribbean island where sun 

does bake people alive. She buy a brand-new brolly to 

shade from the heat, like girls do back home in Guyana. She 

would introduce a new concept to the island people, 

how they can stay cool in the heat.

Cousin hop on a bus anticipating the opening of the brolly in 

the shining-bright sun. 

Time to hop off. 

She pause at the open doorway for dramatic effect. 

She whip out she brolly in front of she like 

magician whipping out wand, and press the brolly button. 

Whoosh...brolly fly off and land 'pon road, sprawl open for all 

the world to see everything underneath.  

The whole bus rock with laughter to see such sport.

Cousin with she bare-nekkid, lawless umbrawla-handle 

crawl outta de bus like Mary meek li'l lamb...

Friday, November 20, 2015



Ah laughing at the Authoritative Manner in which people
making weird pronouncements about other people beliefs
dese days, without knowing what is truth and what ain't.


A lot o' ignorant Experts out dey dese days!

Saturday, November 14, 2015

Hate is all over the news.

Who do you love, Mr. Hate?

I see you rubbing you' goat-fur hands, clacking you' sharp claws together, you' jaundice eyes gloating, wondering who next you can call on, to whisper in they head, to tell them what to do.

I see you arriving disguised as outrage, anger, pain, sorrow.  

And I see people listening to you, and they don't know that they listening to you. 

And that is the frightening part, when people ain't conscious that they listening and acting out what you tell them to do.  

I gone to pray for Peace to sit in me heart and in the heart of Man.

Sad thing is...you, Mr. Hate, gon make people curse me for that.

Saturday, October 31, 2015

My little corner.

Dear Everyone, all my











have gone into my first book.

And all the creative bits left over...I’ve been putting those into my mini-mini-mini garden in my pocket-size verandah.

I wash de verandah floor, ah scrub it, ah push ah shove ah sweep and ah make a li’l book nook. There I sit and read the sky.

I trim plants, I dig and poke de dutty with me bare-nekkid fingers.  I put orchid stems with coc’nut husks and charcoal in two clay pots that my lovely Irish auntie give to me, and into one big clay pot from my ol’ home. I shuve banana-skin and Epsom Salts into the orchid-pots and say, Heh, eat and grow.

And what you know!

Fortunately for you, the tablet that got all the photos fall down and broke so I can’t torture you with pikchas of the 3 little orchids eating, burping, saying their first words, taking their first bath, going for their first walk…

Thursday, October 08, 2015


People, I been seeing Ning-Ning recently, since mid-September.

I don’t know what he look like, but trust me, I been seeing he.

I draw a picture of what I think he look like...here...

...you see he...you see he?

See what I mean? He so sly, before you look around, zips, he gone.

I think folks in other lands call he Murphy and this here Murphy got a bad law. Either that, or Ning-Ning and Murphy is in cahoots to cause trubble.

I see he fiddling with me Internet.

I see Ning-ning in de car.

I see Ning-Ning in de fridge.

I see he in de water-system for a family office-building.

I am tired of Ning-Ning.

I want to throw he to the sharks, but them sharks themselves is seeing Ning-Ning these days with all them humans cutting off they fins for soup.  And truth to tell, even them sharks, with all they long-long teeth don’t know how to bite Ning-Ning.

I going to drink a cuppa tea.

Tuesday, September 22, 2015

Birthday Ma.

My mother is seventy-nine today!

I can't begin to tell you all how I wish I was there to spend it with she.

She is one o' the most kind, caring, giving person you would ever meet. And I ain't saying it just because she is my mother. Ask anybody who ever come in contact with she...they gon tell you how she help them.  She even useta feed the village drunk when he come asking for food.