FarI Eart’day:

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Put on me Sharma, and some white pants to celebrate HIM on the 23rd. July, 2016.  Look resplendent in my whites and like a real Itiopian, trust me. ‘Pon the road, a bwoy say to me:

‘ I didn’t know you was Muslim!’

‘ I’m not,’ I replied.

‘Then why you wearing Muslim clothes?’

I kept cool. even though the man was attempting to dis me.  So, I challenged the bwoy.

‘So Muslim people have a monopoly on what people wear then? Because I have on ancient Itiopian clothes, and the Bible say Ethiopia was always here, from the beginning of time.  I’m sure Islam only started in the 7. century Ad.  Besides, you are supposed to be worshipping the same God, as the Jews and the Christians, aren’t you?

All of a sudden, he seemed lost.

‘Isn’t AllahluJah a lengthened form of your name for God, Muslim man?’

The man seemed close to having a fit, all of a sudden. He also became struck dumb, saying absolutely nothing.

‘Anyway, to be sure of respect for all faiths: we should all use a name that is acceptable and most becoming to all of us, when we are together.  Muslim man, I hope you’re listening because your selfishness – in religion – seems to know no bounds whatsoever and I know Almighty God holds no truck, or allegiance with selfish people.  So what we’ll do, Muslim man, is call and refer to God as Righteousness Himself.  Is that ok for you Muslim man?  Are you praising Righteousness – the God of Abraham – like the Jews, the Christians, not forgetting the RastafarI?’

My bwoy seemed perplexed, perturbed and unsure of himself, so I left him to his selfish devices and carried on praising my JAH on HIM special day.  Abraham taught Ishmael, his first son, the ways of Almighty God.  Ishmael is the father of Islam so therefore, he was taught to praise the same God as Isaac – his younger brother – who was the father of the Jews.  It seems undeniably probable Ishmael and Isaac worship the same God, who is also worshiped by Muslim and Jew alike.  Melchizedek made plain the fact he worshiped Abraham’s God and provided us with HIM name: El Elyon who is Righteousness Himself.  So blessed be The Most High God of Abraham, Ishmael and Isaac, JAH The living God, Lord of Hosts, The Lord Our Righteousness, The Lord Our Holiness.

Media: beast in the air.

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Does, or has anyone realised the poisonous nature of the British media?  My faith – RastafarI – prevents me from voting/ indulging in politics (politricks) but I hoped, against hope and all conceivable odds, Brexit would triumph.  I made my loyalties – subliminal, of course – personally clear, early on; born British – by the way – in the eastern Caribbean, and soon began to realise Brexit is good for home; maybe not for the British mainland financially but, it is a much needed lifeline for those at home.  I was convinced Brexit had absolutely no chance of succeeding, not an earthly.  Things soon became clear, when the media started angling for a virtual treasure trove – of storylines – by proceeding to champion that prize buffoon, and deliberately blithering and blundering idiot, now home secretary, as well as that notoriously well-reformed far-right politician, Mr Nigel Farage.  The media publicity machine went into overdrive and, in so doing, convinced Brexsceptics – like myself – the British populace, half of them it turned out, wanted to ditch Europe and leave, and, they had a materially credible chance of winning, no matter how slight; they actually had a chance of winning the vote.  One telling piece of media gamesmanship, come one-upmanship, was The Sun’s – out of the blue – revelation claiming Lillybet wanted her country out of the fourth Reich version of political unity; whilst the BBC seemed totally obsessed with the Boris/ Farage storylines axis – putting viewers bums on seats – of flamboyant and downright theatrical personalities. The, one time insurmountable, gap between prematurely triumphant Remainers and the gaining fast – coming up blindside on the rails – Brexit adherents steadily decreased, as Gove entered the Boris/ Farage duality, to complete a heinous triumvirate of virulent propaganda and media-energised hypocrisy.  Well, it’s all water under London bridge now but, the British media is at it again; deceiving the imagined community, comprising a superficial Real, that Donald Chump is a credible contender for president of the United States.  Mr Chump is a veritable goldmine of reportable hypocrisy and, a confrontational target of pure controversy.  Instead of exposing the ridiculous sentiments Chump espouses, the British media – everytime – errs on the extremes of nigh-on unbelievable credibility.  The media has succeeded in bringing a closet racist, and bigot, into the realms of improbable acceptance.  Yes!  It is foolhardy to underestimate the power of the British media – Murdoch is no fool – in its quest to remain at the forefront of public conscience, and leader of telling current affairs.  The subtle induction of closet apartheid: ugliscized blacks – the black lives don’t matter edict – coloured (Asian) peoples emergence, as second in line on the British food chain, and, therefore, social importance; are all systemic instances of ideological programming of social conscience.  In my degree studies, I argued for the feasible existence of a psychological social nature, which was laughed off the page – and out of my dissertation!  I now realise it is a form of social, educational programming enhanced by fictitious numbers claiming support – of the public – for controversial, and once inconceivable, ideas.  Will Mr Chump win?  Well, the British media is doing its damnedest to – once again – bring about, what was once thought impossible.  Certain media celebrities are responsible for using media-services – including the ‘impartial’ BBC, to cultivate and totally influence public/ social opinion in heinous and inscrutable ways.  No fear mate, that’s the way the system cheats, I mean, works.

Do You Remember:

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Hanging tree is still here, of course

Witness to mutilation of blacks

So many lives taken by force

Things happened as matter of fact

Countless died just for running away

Strung up high with unyielding twine

Victims of nothing more than affray

Within context of legal confines


Imagine from cradle to grave

Hounded for being African

Has to be hell living as slave

Property of another man

But that was two centuries ago

Surely something has changed by now

Should have stemmed hypocrisy’s flow

Eighteen thirty-four they made a vow


Death for inauspicious reasons

Different methods yield the same

It’s not like they’re guilty of treason

Seems like a sick and ghastly game

One kept pleading – he couldn’t breathe

Still they kept on – did not relent

Lost his life with sickening speed

Boys in blue have legal consent


Invert paternalists still weave

Airs of superficial grandeur

Brand: missing head-count on sleeves

Columbus legacy cede murder

Our world sees black lives don’t matter

Five hundred plus killed by police

The U.S. has questions to answer

Now they carry that mark of the Beast







A Tower Of Babel:

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So many strange things have happened

Impossible to know where to begin

Clear skies have prematurely darkened

Politicians flit around like headless chicken

This new world has quickly unravelled

Eastern comglomerates are poised

To inject strong money, coupled

With populations densely roused


Hence: a global continuum

Swiftly opened like melted cheese

Competition, fierce as rugby scrum

Slowly applies an unhealthy squeeze

Europeans soon made their mark

Regenerating inner cities

Daily congregating in local parks

Overcrowding social amenities


The government is in perplexed meltdown

Ministers stab each other in the back

A shameless squabble to wear PM’s crown

Corbin perpetually under attack

Brexit has changed nothing, as yet

Opportunists slyly sharpen their axe

Now we know Blair’s unholy secret

M.I.5. can’t paper over the cracks


There will always be a price to pay

When people try to manipulate History

Whatever they attempt today

Derides any future legacy

Those two sides of religious falsehood

Decried through open exposure

Result in absolutely no good

And a deep fissure in mankind’s future


Looking For Summer:

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He spoke, seemingly to no-one immediate.

“Has the sun put in an appearance, at last?”

Darkness, temporarily, lurched and covered space and time, not long after he dared to speak.  Blinding light surfaced – not too long after – as if in direct afterthought, and Summer began – once again – its great quest for climatic dominance.

“Where are we now?”

He continued, as if in continuation of his initial observation:

“We’re creeping into July and we’ve not had a prolonged series of day-to-day summertime, not since early May.”

Now, it would be churlish to assume he spoke in a fit of mental insanity and, indeed, to himself but he knew how powerful nature’s forces really are; its spirit always listened, and invariably responded, to individuals who appreciate its presence, and the presiding code of communicative conduct.  Changes in weather fluctuation may – or not – be attributed to lunar supernaturalism but, to an extent that cannot be confidently verified; tropical rain showers simply add to the explanatory confusion.  Ridiculous temperatures – for this time of year – pervade an indisposed summer, it’s hard to believe reports of wind and rain – not to mention flooding in the south.  It’s probably nature’s way of protesting cataclysmic eruptions of death and destruction riddling the whole globe, in no small permutations.  Forecasters chart and predict the Jetstream, there’s no reflecting – as yet – the effect of El Nino, that avenging weather system emanating from somewhere connected to Our Caribbean.

Summers nearly gone – contrastingly, it hasn’t even arrived yet.  Something’s surely amiss because it’s impossible to surmise, how we’ve come to this; torrential rain in the middle of summer?  The early birds still tweet, well before dawn is eventually released, and Wimbledon is still in its usual place; strawberries and cream predictively losing their sheen, in the absence of blazing hot sun.  And who wants to drink lime flavoured Pimms, while sheltering under a sodden umbrella?  Maybe it’ll come late, an autumn which is blisteringly great, or, is this rare aberration dictated by those disturbing gulf winds.  Whatever the explanatory reason, summer – this year – has so far amounted to an absent season; leaving us all in a flux of potential depression.


Snakes In The Grass Arn’t Easy To spot:

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They all wanted Britain to stay in the EU.  Selfishly forgetting their roots and where familial antecedents are originating from.  What a coup for our beleaguered Caricom, an inconsequential trading block, which has taken on mammoth proportions – of importance – in significance, now the U.K has begun window-shopping for potential trading blocks outside the monopolistic EU.  Britain will survive – we’re here aren’t we – even though it has to negotiate hair-raising teething problems – two years, the experts have predicted.  But, what about the great advantages people at home will derive, from this shifting of the international plates?  You with me?  The whole Caribbean – Jamaica inclusive – is in a much stronger and more lucrative position, than previous.  My long-time Jamaican buddy told me, the Jamaican dollar had strengthened ten dollars against the pound the day after Brexit and, sterling  weakened again the days following, so goodness knows how much the Jamaican dollar has gained.  I’d better ease-off because these studies are uncharted territory, for me.

There comes a time – in life – when those infuriating mouthpieces, who always wore dunce-caps in school, start pretending they graduated as valedictorian success stories; they shout their uninformed ideas, and assumptions, very loudly too.  I remember when I was perfecting my reading abilities – aged nine – some texts, that I was attempting to read, uniformly threw up terribly difficult words, to decipher.  I resolved to be tedious and precise, in my absorption of literary meaning, by resorting to my Collins every time such occasions arose.  Not for me, the reading of texts, with telling omissions in perceived understanding, each time I gleaned words to which I had no comprehension of meaning; my one-faced nature would prevent me from pretending I knew what they meant.

Education helps to nurture and enhance the core basics of personality and character.  It is a foolish state of affairs, when the people most heard and who invariably attempt to dictate social direction, are esteemed for qualities much less valued – in moral fibre – and far less of importance than, the: well-educated, better versed in social etiquette people who exhibit tendencies of possessing one face, rather than those imperceptible devils, who invariably possess two; Michael Gove is a most obvious candidate, unashamedly so, too.

Diary Of A Supermodel:

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Watched you grow – and how well so

Distinctive curves invoke tight spaces

Illicit, deft smiles lined single file

Sweetest pleasures mount cleft faces

Secretly brimmed, scented surfaces skimmed

Coquettish attraction pulling raucous attention

Scrutinize slants through monocled glance

Pitted between beguiling condescension


Time is cruel, guised under yesterday’s rule

Still you glide in arrogant beauty

High-loaded spools, your benign footstools

Picture real lessons in ambiguity

Cherry-red lips match glinting fingertips

Cheeks bewitchingly waddle side, to side

Endless pins sport crisp voluptuous strips

Undeniable allure mounts shameless strides


Wolf-whistles increase body-swayed release

Lewd comments turning pallid air blue

Sly mental beasts converge sweat-filled pleats

Enough to make grown men’s bulges continue

Ceaselessly hounded, piercing goggle-eyes astounded

Hypnotized minions visibly controlled

Symmetrically pert and rounded; dazzled minds confounded

Every move scolds each startled-faced troll


Expensive cameras drool; wielded by desensitized fool

Each pose extracts sharp inhalations

Elite magazines’ mule, their collateral tool

Brainwashed to commit personalized starvation

Their idolized source; a virtual clothes horse

Ferried in private jets to idyllic sunspots

Nature’s sexual force exhibits no remorse

This vision of heaven’s glory is truly: hot, hot, hot.

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