simple farmer

i know people who still aint get paid from carifesta 2008 by frankie and the gang at the ministry of culture. yes 2008
and let me not list all the litany of abuse our beloved fartists endure day in day out in lovely guyana the land of zero copyright laws
yet still, grovelling fartistes brukkin dung de gate fi get into de guyana festival of fakery
some even coming home from amerika to sing songs of love
open your blinkered eyes
form a cooperativa. organise. resist. protest
learn to say no to abuse
straighten up your backs and stop bending over in service
behind all the smoke and mirrors is your trinket, a food in a styrofoam box and a free taxi ride to and fro your hovel

when they sucker you this time again, and hey will, there^s more for you mutton boys and girls
you get to sing on the upcoming election campaign trail and shake your ass to the masters drum
there,s gonna be a big mutton curry festival coming up for all you former sheep
bring your own plate and spoon
you wont be eating but as the gringos say “what the heck”
you barely eating now anyways
try something new
be eaten

which reminds me
i wrote something could very well be your swan song
starts like this
kick me and tell me you love me
you know the rest

run tell dat

“There, she poured out her words of grief, tearfully, in faint tones, in harmony with sadness, just as the swan sings once, in dying, its own funeral song.”