by Khristal Griffith
Instant coffee.
Instant photos.
Right now,
Today!
Yesterday is when we want it.
What happened to those days
When you could take a leisurely walk down the street
Without feeling like Alice's little white rabbit
Ah late, Ah LATE!
When last did you watch the sky float by?
Yuh too busy using your
Cellular Phones
Fax Machines
EMAIL!!
Everything on the go
Broadband is too slow
Processors work at light speed these days!
The A.D. D generation is like Veruca Salt
I want it NOW, Daddy,
NOW!!
Our minds, a remote control
The channels whiz by without second glance
Memories stored on Memory Sticks
No time for second chance.
I hear stories of when things were written.... By HAND!
What?!?
No keyboard or stylus?
Penmanship?
What's that?
A luxury Liner?
(STEUPS!!) Too slow
I prefer the Concord.
Because
Time is
Money
That's in credits now, by the way!
Who has time for cold, hard cash.
Plastic over paper anytime dear
Software saves us the misery of stash.
I'm too hopped up on caffeine to wait
for the day when I'm teleported from place to place
Flash!
In an Instant
Out in an Out-stant
How Outstanding?
I'm tired of standing
Waiting for a taxi in the crowded streets of Port of Spain
Stuck in de rain
Strain, Strain, Strain
shoulder to shoulder with vagrants
with such a...
"Fragrance"
Cyar wait to get meh licence to
Kill (oops)
Female Driver on the loose.
Patience is a pigment of figments of imagination.
Road Rage is all the rage,
Cuss out somebody,
While watching yuh gas gauge.
Prices skyrocketing,
While I multitask,
Listening to my Ipod on full blast while pumping gas.
Inflation like an inflammation
Too sensitive to scratch.
Crime on the rise
Cause we settle for a quick buck
Hard Luck for the poor F***-er
Who works for a living?
We don't even have time to demonstrate
Against the hate
and the fate
Of this little island
Where words tumble from the mouths of politicians
Resplendent
Yet incoherent
Truth is lost against the noise of their falsehoods
And in the vastness of their London bank accounts.
Chin up! No time to pout!
But yuh could stand up in a line
Waiting for "B mobile"
Cyar watch yuh chile or
Send him to school so he could spell
"Breakfastses"
While you spend a fortune on that outfit for the fete
Where you could meet Death
Wining up on yuh in a party
Whispering sweet words that intrigue you
"You know how I do,
Come back to my place
I'll give you something sweet to taste"
Go home and look in the mirror
Cyar recognize yuh face
A.I.D.S in the place
And a few S.T.D's that only a test can trace
But
Yuh just couldn't stay out of that backseat
and watch T.V.
Abstain!
Like Mr. Manning say!
The same one that's
"making it safe" for your children to play
And get plucked off the streets
Sent back in plastic black sheets,
Sold to you for ransom.
Here every creed and race finds an equal place
Only God knows where to find them
Because the "boys in blue"
Don't know what to do
The A.K.S doh have no time for you.
None of your concern.
Once yuh don't touch you won't get burned.
Live in your bubble of indifference
And in silent acceptance,
Just like our generation.
Vipers! Just like the older ones say
We too busy to pray
Whether or not you believe
No matter the denomination
The A.D.D Generation
Is, unfortunately, here to stay.
That's all I have to say.
Peace.
Copyright - Khristal Griffith
Posted with the kind permission of the poet.
....................................................................................................
A Note From The Gull
Welcome young poet! When most of our elders are viewing the world and their role in it, through pension tinted glasses, it is a pleasure to hear the voices of emergent youth speaking out. This poem had me jumping, the rhythm capturing the frenzied lifestyle being described. While this hectic pace renders us too busy to enjoy what some would describe as the slower, kinder way of life of the past, one advantage is that it compels us to cut through the "ole talk". We just don't have time for it. The down side is that sometimes it also makes us too preoccupied to sustain meaningful protest against the garbage. We are too caught up in the "keeping up". Either way, whether we are opiated by the downers of "tradition" or jittering on the uppers of "progress", the "bubble of indifference" to which the the poet refers, is just a way to escape the fact that the strings and our destinies remain firmly in the puppeteer's hands.
Against the hate
and the fate
Of this little island
Where words tumble from the mouths of politicians
Resplendent
Yet incoherent
Truth is lost against the noise of their falsehoods
And in the vastness of their London bank accounts.
"Patria est communis omnium parens" - Our native land is the common parent of us all. Keep it beautiful, make it even more so. Thank you, Khristal.
Blessed is all of creation
Blessed be my beautiful people
Blessed be the day of our awakening
Blessed is my country
Blessed are her patient hills.
Mweh ka allay!
Guanaguanare
