Bag Juice Debacle: A sweet argument

Jamaica land of the bag juice debates and debacles... sugar is an issue since JLP botching healthcare on a whole so they push the burden to the patients who now must contend with taxes and government nagging you about your lifestyle eating choices and depreciating fluffy self esteem by interpreting fat people as an economic burden and expense on our health budget. If you can't smell the fumes... then no one notices that not one health food store at any hospital in JA and hospital serves starches to diabetics... bag juice local and dem can't chump up big money to lobby to be left alone like the Pepsi distributers etc...  Murder bag juice entrepreneurs... same so dem make cigarette cost more than weed at 70 dollar a cigarette and den act like is a good thing an spin doctor it like the weed fifty bag nah shrink since the price of fifty bag fixed due nature of the name... dem gi Jamaica inna one hand and tek it back wid the next! 6 for a 9... ScAmdrew Whole-Mess

Wah some a dem hot girl weh live pon bag juice and cheese trix a go do, wah go cool dem dung after cup soup and tin sausage breakfast?

Poem: Legend of the Pan Africanist

Legend of the Pan Africanist

I am sure...
You know of Jesus, 12 men and 2 fish,
Mi sure you may know something of Greeks and their myths,
The best of Rihanna and Ed Sheeran hits,
But tell me do you know of Bogle when the temperature reach 96,
Do you know whose eyes the crows in Sam Sharpe square circled to pick,
Do you know inna 63 when Rasta get trim, box and kicks,
Do you Maroons and of Cockpit logistics,
I am sure you probably know Nanny and where those bullets hit,
Did you know how she cried for the ones she couldn't save and souls she couldn't fix,
Do you the know history is coded into Rasta's locks and wisps,
Do you know the Panama Canal and how many Jamaican bodies are in the mortar and it's bricks,
Do you know Marcus Garvey was there and would later light the beacon globally for the Pan Africanist,
Do you know our ancestors are alive in moments like this????????????

Copyright © 2017 by Yannick Pessoa, All Rights Reserved.
© MMXVII YANNICK PESSOA

Ode to Lost Elders and Careless I-thiopians

Now elders like to think themselves wise,
Which is no surprise,
But he says to me boy open your eyes,
The well behaved son never receives the prize,
Don't you realize?
No I said in my heart then,
And no I say again,
Even if I have to say it to an army of ten thousand men,
No again and again and again!
What of sons like Absolom and Solomon,
Power handed to which one,
Let the story then carry on,
Selassie is descended from which one,
And today elder I ask,
Why do you look like the children that sing the Ethiopian King's song,
And was he which son,
Akin to such one...
This is not my epistle,
But rather my Ecclesiastes,
A cosmological opus magnum...
A belief I use like an intellectual handgun,
Here am I, send me...
They will know I am which one!

Copyright © 2017 by Yannick Pessoa, All Rights Reserved. 
© MMXVII YANNICK PESSOA

The Threnody of Angels

Sometime mi bumbo'ole,
More time mi a eediat,
If mi never have yute,
Mi gi miself gunshot,
😱Huh, no, don't say that!
A how mi feel an a fimi pain dat,
Come in like you love chat chat,
U know how life hot...
Mi nah talk suffer hungry or none a dat,
It's to feel your heartbreaking,
Caah some day yuh pickney heart will be aching,
To know you try self improvement and everything,
Never to be the King of Kings,
To give to the poor and never yet get of someone's offerings,
To give her your heart for safekeeping,
She take it tun play play ting,
To look like a saint,
When a demon is inside seething,
To lose teeth as a 35year old teething,
To sit amongst fraud as the realest thing,
To feel like half alien and angel born of a human being,
To have your shoulder blades flap phantom wings,
To hear the Cacophony of the Kakistocrasy in every meeting,
To seek the future and find possible sorrow,
As you see the scope of horror in the truth of tarot,
To have your messages of now only understood in tomorrow,
To sense the surrender to the nothing,
The hurt of practicing to lose loved ones as we all must,
The sick psycho rehearsal for tragedy and pain of losing family.

No this is not the pain of being deprived,
Its the pain of living in the pain of those who went through pain to let you survive,
It's the pain of knowing Grandmothers can never be revived,
It's the pain of waiting for her to visit in dreams and not have it happen,
It's the pain of having to steer at children's innocence and naivety,
To remember your own innocence to harken your own naivety,
To look at everything that is and know all is vanity,
To know that modernity is absurdity and utter insanity,
It's the pain of having to see yourself in the youth,
The pain of watching them flail to find truth,
The ache of endless rejection and fatherly rebuke,
The pain of holding it in but still having to puke,
The sadness in being in a crowd and lonely,
The dull boredom of going out when you are homely,
The pain to see her beauty and realize she is not comely,
Pain of having to wait for those who will not appreciate the patient,
To swallow words because mama thinks them too potent...
To have moments splinter like fractals,
Scattered in the eternity of seconds,
The pain of not being her first choice,
Of not being her virgin breaker,
The sorrow when she loves you less each tomorrow,
The pain of knowing your imperfections,
The trauma in loving her flaws,
The drama in her corners and mental drawers,
To be a narcissist full of self hate,
To constantly self deprecate,
Even when your gut says I am great...

Copyright © 2017 by Yannick Pessoa, All Rights Reserved. 
© MMXVII YANNICK PESSOA