Yiro Abari High Poems

The seventh from a dozen
Is about to disappear
The head has gone far
Just the rear is near
...

Who holds your destiny?
You hold your destiny?
Open your eyes and see
You'll see your destiny
...

Originality is in all of us
If you grope around,
you'll feel the nose
...

The swathe of his trunk and limbs are:
Long, slim cylinders to the wrists,
Baggy prongs to the ankles
And a woolen barrel to the waist
...

So you've learned it
That habit
Of wedging a smoking straw
Against those lips
...

The Promise of Paradise

Satan stood on a platform
He preached a warped sermon
...

The proliferation of voices
The making of the wrong choices
Got me blinded
Got me spitting, brimstone and fire
...

Face of the nation
Hope of the nation
Over the years,
Reforming generations
...

Deep within the Caribbean wood
Before the world, he stood
He stood, he sang
Words that cut
...

We drum
To it, we wriggle and dance
It's said, we are the best,
That we are the greatest
...