The Gray Revolution

Gray clouds float across the sky
Gray faces with silver gray smiles
Gray roses in the garden
Gray ice cream melting, dripping on the gray grass
Gray lovers kiss then turn to ash
Gray soldiers fright for a gray cause
Gray leaders makes gray promises
Gray people in gray marriages
Depending on a gray culture for structure
Gray religions with varying colours of gray for doctrine
Gray spirituality based on gray self image
Gray emotions, or is it emotionless
Living a gray existence
Male or female, black or white
Ok I am going back to sleep
At least the tropical colours still exist there.




Pics with verse Storyteller

Irie Marning to one and all

Irie Marning to one and all

Ahh yes, its time to wake up and have a nice day all you/ So as you trod through dis here creation, I man going leave you wid what Mommy Charles used to tell me. “Dere are good people all over dis world, all you have to do is open yuh eyes.”


Blood pudding

Blood pudding

I remember seeing people on the side of the road cooking up blood pudding. People would buy a piece, use a banana leaf as a plate and eat away.


Thank you, Thank you

Today I reached 100 followers, I want to thank all the people who have followed me. I love telling stories, writing, creating, takes me away from really for a while. Stay tuned lots more stories to tell, Again, thank you very much for reading. Hope the experience is cool runnings for you.

Parts Dirty Immigrant Storyteller

Church People From the novel I am Dirty Immigrant

One day a busload of some church group came through the gas station. One of the young women, no more than sixteen years old, walked up to the counter. She seemed nervous, looking around as if to make sure that God was not standing behind her. She opened her mouth and for a second no words came out.

How much is this?” she whispered, pushing a packet of condoms towards me.

I looked at her, then looked at the older church members standing by the Deli. So guess what your friendly village trouble maker did?  I held up the condoms and yelled, “Price check on condoms!”  All the old church people turned around and looked over at us. That girl looked like she wanted to crawl into the baptism pool and hide from the grace of God. One of the older ladies started to walk over. The young lady made a bee-line to the door, the old lady in hot pursuit, her bible waving over her head, “Oh Jesus! Lord, child, what get into you? Jesus help her ‘cause I will beat the devil out of her.”

Her church hat tilted to one side as she stumbled out behind the young lady and everyone in the gas station was laughing. I guess I had just saved a young lady from the jaws of sexual deviance.

I was never around too many church girls back home. Catholic girls, yes, but no Protestants. I used to see them walking by. They never wore pants, or makeup, and they would never talk to us Catholic heathens. That is until they were away from the grownups; then they talked a mile a second. I did go to an outdoor crusade one night. I was kicked out because they said I was disturbing their preaching. Oh don’t think I am a little devil boy. What happened is they asked for people to come up and testify and one of the young men made me a little mad. He said he did not think of sinning anymore. Well just before the meeting started, he had brought some benches out and some older ladies sat on it. This young man went into a tirade of words that would make the Virgin Many blush. Now here he is talking about being pure and sinless. So I stood up and contested his testimony. The congregation got upset, called me the devil and some even started speaking in tongues. For a second I thought I was in a Voodoo meeting. They said they were going to call the police so I hightailed it out of there. That is what I got for smoking a joint before going to that camp meeting. I could never keep my mouth shut when I was blazed up.  


No Expectations

Maybe my soul is wrong
People are not natural, too much culture
I used to hate people, it was easy then
I just hike up to my mountain
Where only the animals live
Sit next to the creek and enjoy the sound of no voices
Watch the sun glitter off the water
At least they are not punishing me
I am not one of their own
They don’t have to love me
They don’t have to acknowledge
There are no expectations

POEMS Storyteller

The Aftermath A soldier’s life

She lay in her room with her eyes open wide

Shadows dance on the ceiling above her

For she is dead when she is with the living

But alive when she is with the dead

She lay there welcoming the nightmares

For these people, their mutilated bodies

They understand, they know how she feels, they care

In a world of millions there are so many lonely people

She is one of the lucky ones, she has her nightmares

She wakes up in the morning not really wanting to face the world

For this world is not really her home

These people are not really her species

Strange faces, strange ideas where does she fit