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Storyteller

Tune in Tomorrow

Another installment of OBEAH. Yes, come back to see what Henry is up to now. Last week, him and his friends were battling a Jumbie sent by the Ligaroo king. What will he have to fight off next. And now that Akosua have enlisted the help of the Bokors, will they be strong enough to get the Spear of Salt to defeat the Ligaroo King. Ahhh, to find out you will have to tune in for another installment of Obeah, tomorrow and every Sunday. Tune in, don’t make Pa Pa Jumbie come to you in your dreams.

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POEMS Storyteller

At Work

This grind, this never ending grind
I want to stop and look around
Feel the wind against my face
Listen to the waves crash against the rock
Instead of the senseless garbage that is booming
From the stereo next to my desk
This numbness, this never ending numbness
I am like a robot to the system
I live not by my own will but by the will of what I have to do
What I am forced to do, forget me, what do you want?
I am not even here anymore I am lost in unnatural reality
Yes, the reality created by man
His will to control and dominate
I am drowning in a toxic creek of human confusion
I am spitting out my emotions drenching my friends
But they are too busy feeling sorry for themselves
I am lonely, there are no shadows on my walls tonight
Even the nightmares seem boring
An acquaintance comes over, its her birthday
She expects something, I have nothing to give
Not even my spirituality, I shut my soul down
Cant afford to feel, cant afford to be me
No one will let me, so like everyone else
I will zombie through life, no care for myself
No care for others.

 

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POEMS Storyteller

Lady Confusion (!999)

I made a new best friend today; her name is confusion
she speaks to me like she was my mother

She makes me laugh, she makes me cry, she makes my heart ache
She makes people say what they think you want to hear
She drenches herself in  emotional correctness
Soaked, she stands before me with an innocent look on her face
Her gaze seeping through me like a frigid Alaskan wind
She spits in my face like an angry revolutionary
She laughs at me when my soul melts
She pushes me off my cotton candy cloud
She even invades my dreams her presence a haunting Jumbie
Soon I am a shell of myself, the world around me a blur
I am a captive of her seductive charms
I struggle to emancipate myself, but she persists
I guess I will have to embrace her, invite her into my soul
Let her settle into where the rest of my emotions live
For best friends are heard to come by
And these days she seems to be my constant companion

 

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POEMS Storyteller

Death by Fantasy

I want to walk on water
Not like Jesus Christ
I want to walk on the back of dolphins
As they make a path out to sea
To the edge of the earth, where the sun hangs over the water
Where the crystal blue ocean meets the powder puff clouds
And seagulls cast their shadows in the sky
Where colourful fishes swim in large schools, glittering in the light
And the sun and the moon stand side by side like old friends

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Stories Storyteller

What I am thankful for, my memories.

Oh oh I am getting sentimental, what am I thankful for, well my memories, Playing cricket on the beach with Desmond Charles and Raphael Charles on Grand Anse beach. Getting my butt beat at sprint races. Watching my big sis Kathleen Whitehead and Mommy Charles baking up a storm on Saturdays and getting to lick the batter from the cake mix. Hanging on the blocks with my friends whistling at the village girls ha ha, Jumping up to calypso music during carnival, going fishing on Sundays and then cooking a good waters on the beach, sneaking into the priest’s quarters and drinking the wine he he he, playing football at the old guides hut. Watching the village drunk stumble by, his pants falling to him ankles and him not knowing. Sneaking in the Neighbors yard and picking all his mangoes, then running after he comes out. Helping Mommy Charles prepare Christmas dinner.  Blazing boboli with the rasta and them. Thankful for growing up on an island full of great beaches and sunshine and dancing and smiling people. Many more memories, too much to put on here. That’s what I am thankful for my memories.