Donations are essential to keep Write Out Loud going    

CARRIB NOTEBOOK

 

1. THICKER THAN WATER

 

The Grenadines, Saltwhistle Bay.

I think of Robert Righteous

& de Youths Rasta Restaurant

while drinking a glass of Carrib Beer

on the shores of Saltwhistle Bay.

 

Lunchtime and I'm sitting under

a Rasta flag with Robert Righteous

who's an angel spreading stories,

plates of seafood, dreads and smiles

wider than Saltwhistle Bay.

 

A poor kid outside a cottage

is the son of Robert Righteous.

He's curled on a plastic chair

playing with the lobster he seized

from the pots at Saltwhistle Bay.

 

He's lonely, expecting too much

from his father Robert Righteous

who says paradise is over

the hill in the sparkling white

and perfect beach of Saltwhistle Bay.

 

2. LIBERTY

 

From a tented boat in the mangrove swamp

I saw tall trees topped by dark coated

Pelicans, Cormorants and Frigate birds

searching the wetlands for morsels.

In the backwater of “The Lovers Lane”

a seahorse was dropped into my hand

by our guide and I shuddered because

it was wet and cold and reminded me,

for some reason, of the men and horses

that set sail from Marseilles in 1190

and one of the things that was written

about the Crusades by an eyewitness -

 

It was necessary to pick one's way

over the bodies of men and horses.

But these were but small matters compared

to what happened at Solomon's Temple,

a place where religious services

are normally chanted ... in the temple

and the porch of Solomon, men rode in blood

up to their knees and bridle reins. Indeed

it was a just and splendid judgement of God.

 

After a photo of the seahorse on my hand

I imprisoned it among mangrove roots

so it wouldn't face the judgement of God,

be eaten by a bird or caught by a poacher

who would sell it to the local restaurant

where it would be put on a skewer

and displayed as a delicacy for us tourists

in our armour of sunglasses, shorts and wallets.

3. DIRTY WORK

When I, Hugo Chavez, wrote my poems and stories

I didn't know I would become the Great Dictator

who said Si to being called El Liberator

I didn't know I would skim the national oil profits

and say Si to fixing elections and other shit

I didn't know in 1992 I'd lead a failed revolution

and later would say Si to changing the constitution

I didn't know my brothers were Ken Livingston, Christ and Fidel

and say Si the Sistine Chapel's gay and America's the Devil

I didn't know I'd end up jailing clairvoyants and dissidents

or that I'd host a weekly television show called Si Presidente

I didn't know when I started to write my poems and stories

that the land would rise, dance, fall and become a cemetery

and I'd say Si and become the Great Dictator.

4. THE BIG NOISE

 

The Nobel Laureate Derek Walcott

was born in St Lucia. We've the Derek Walcott

Caribbean Jazz Festival, Derek Walcott

Day and the Carnival of Derek Walcott.

You can stay at the Derek Walcott

five star Hotel, watch the Derek Walcott

Cruise Rally that ends in Derek Walcott

Bay, you can visit the Derek Walcott

banana plantation, take pictures in Derek Walcott

Square, zoom (that blur was Derek Walcott

on a moped), for lunch there's Derek Walcott

chicken, later relax at a Derek Walcott

spa and listen to the sound of Derek Walcott

on piano.

Come with me. Enjoy the Derek Walcott

tour- it only costs a Derek Walcott.

5. TIT FOR TAT

 

Their wives, of course, keep out of it

as husbands swear, point and shout

at each other about how long they've

been waiting and the length of the queue

for a bus to take them to the submarine.

The older one was Father Christmas

only he wore beige and a straw hat.

The younger was Johnny Cash in black

and his hair and ears swam in the breeze.

I stood between them and said

That's enough.

We're on holiday

and have left behind the credit crunch,

emails, failure, gales and politics.”

They look at me and

I shut my eyes

wait for them to turn on me, hit,

spit, kick or stamp on me.

But nothing

happens.

The older one walks

towards the tea bar with his rucksack

while the other just sucks a sweet

and nods guiltily like a dog

you see in the back of a car.

6. PARDON US


 

From boat to horizon you can only

see 3 miles of an endless quiet

as the “Sparkler” moves through blue

sounding for whales on their migration.


 

Then a shout and stampede of us tourists

becoming bulldozers, getting cameras out

and setting the optical zoom to max

for these five humpbacks lying in a row.


 

I've waited my whole life to see and hear

them moan and cry to each other.

After a few minutes the humpbacks throw

up their tails, wave then sink to the depths.


 

At that moment you hold my hand because

you want to make sure I'm always by your side

even when I throw up my tail and want to sink

to the quiet, immense depths of the ocean.


 

7. SAILORS BEWARE


 

The colours of the rainbow

swim under the sea

but they have been captured

and transformed into blue.

The wreck of a fishing boat

that lies on the sand is blue.

The fish, seaweed and coral

that's barely alive and keeps

the boat company are blue.

Beneath the waves days breathe

in the only colour they know.

At the same time the sky sweats,

catches fire sometimes

and leads another life, mainly in blue.

 

8. THE DANCING MASTERS


 


 

This is what happened.

When the song

Maria Teresa started vibrating every available atom

my feet decided to rebel and threw

out any sense of time or rhythm

and they flatly refused to have anything

to do with dancing to a Salsa.

I couldn't understand it.

We'd been through

a lot together, swam in the sea,

walked miles, cycled.

They were with me

when I fell in love.

I washed and talced

them everyday, bought them socks, Puma trainers,

and put them to bed each night.

What more

do these feet need?

Why can't they dance?

They said the beats were too fast, we got confused,

shoes pinched our favourite toes and last night

you kept us up till late.

They were just making

excuses so I told them to pull their socks

up and they'd better watch their steps in future.

9. WE FAW DOWN


 

Bumpy carries a tray of plastic cups

of special rum and says “I have drinks

to cheer you up”.

We take the spicy rum

drink standing in the baptising waters

far below the sun's blazing eye

and laugh with hummingbird faces

while watching Bumpy with a tray

of plastic cups full of rum

balanced on his palm tree head.

That afternoon we worship an alien

God and banish all shadows.

On the beach

there are thin boys playing cricket,

tourists painting themselves with oil

and I hear the cries of a dog behind

a shack, the bleating of an unremarkable

saxophone, a snare drum quivering,

Bumpy saying “Anyone need a drink?”

and in the background, accompanying

everything, someone throwing up

and the sea telling us to be quiet.


 

 

10. WRONG AGAIN

Let not woes of old enslave you anew (on the ticket to the museum)


 

The slave trade was conducted by the Dutch,

French, Portuguese, Spanish, Danes, German

and is not the fault of the English.


 

Origami bodies chained in the hold

that smell of shit, piss, vomit, pus and death

are not the fault of the English.


 

The whipping post in the yard and a bell

to summon other slaves for their lesson

are not the fault of the English.


 

Bills of sale for beds, fireplaces and slaves

that burn slowly or whose cries are sand

are not the fault of the English.


 

The slave trade was conducted by was the Dutch,

French, Portuguese, Spanish, Danes, German

and is not the fault of the English.


 


 

◄ THE LEAST OF HER SINS

CARRIB NOTEBOOK ►

Comments

No comments posted yet.

If you wish to post a comment you must login.

This site uses cookies. By continuing to browse, you are agreeing to our use of cookies.

Find out more Hide this message