When I came to Jamaica, I was in a resort
Busted by the police, I ended up in Freeport
They locked me up and done stole my weed
Now I eat porridge that looks like horse feed
Hear me out, hear my cry
I pleaded guilty, I told no lie
Here we are all locked up
No where to go that's messed up
Being here is a lesson to be learned
You can guarantee I won't return
These words may lack coherence, because I'm laughing while I write
Laughing at the silly folks who celebrate my plight
Laughing at their claim that I can now no longer bite
Laughing as God forgave me cause I was broken and contrite.
Laughing at politicians who make promises galore
Laughing at voters opening silly ears to hear more.
Laughing while they rid uptown of every street whore,
They prostitute our resources through the door.
Laughing at our prisons where they don't rehabilitate
Laughing at the warders with their big guns at the gate
Laughing at them trying to entice our visiting wives on a date
Laughing, as some will never find themselves until its too late
(Inspired by the Trafigura incident)
Buried six feet under; they hope to be discreet
But now the stench has surfaced from beneath
They thought it was over, but others have exhumed,
The body of corruption which they thought was consumed.
Since corruption isn't flammable–it cannot be burned
So they buried it for a while, but the tables have turned.
Now wide open is the sepulcher which covered the box
As extinct becomes their laughter and they cannot relax.
Economical stress,
poverty is not at rest,
inflation puff its ugly chest,
another sure room for penitentiary entry.
Heads of government!
There is a lot of room for improvement,
please stop this penitentiary entry.
Gun in hand,
man look a food fin yam,
Youngman please understand,
dat route is not for you man!!
Although poverty ridden,
money stricken,
don't go killing across the country,
that's a penitentiary entry.
(Editor's Note: The following letter was one of several written by inmates after a woman called in to Kevin's program, “Unchained”, with the story of her rape and subsequent grief and healing. We do not know who her rapist is.)
Thank God you are healed again
Thank God you are clean again
Thank God you are not thinking mean again
Thank God you are the essence of forgiveness
Thank God you are no more a slave to unforgiveness
Thank God you have found it in your heart
to forgive the man who violated your body,
the man who bruised your soul and almost
destroyed your mind.
Thank God your forgiveness towards a man
who was possessed
has started your healing process
In my book you are a princess. Continue reading
A poem to: Miss Marsha
Wrong are they! Wrong are they! Wrong are they who says “it is something good when someone dies” and that we should dance and not weep instead.
How can I dance when my precious aunt is now dead? The same aunt to who I went and said, isn’t it true that if I continue to be one of the good guys that I will obtain everything this song I'll sing said I should? Then I began and with all the melody I had (Good guys get all the girls! Good guys get all the fame!! Good guys get a little sunshine in their world, and my life is gone be the same!) Then I stand in front her looking head high to the direction of the sun.
My height was just below your belly.
The more you give, the more you get
The more you laugh, the less you fret
The more you do unselfishly
The more you love abundantly
The more of everything you share
The more you'll always have to share
The more you love, the more you'll find
That life is good and friends are kind
For only what you give away
Enriches us from day to day
From: Zona
When God shall come
Will it be fun
Or will I be on the run
Hiding from that day of judgement
For I served that wicked serpent
And did not repent
Now it's a shame
Whom should I blame
If I'm cast in the burning flame
Though the gospel was preached all over the world
My soul I still invested in diamond and pearl
O lord you are Gods’ only son
If it's thy will
O Lord let it be done
But save my soul for thy kingdom come
Written By Carl Campbell…