That’s How The Cookie Crumbles Poem by Joe Rosochacki

I have done my bit of travel in the Caribbean Isles,
Cayman, Turks and Caicos, Jamaica,
Bahamas, St. John, Aruba
But I haven’t ventured to Hispaniola,
The Dominican Republic, where we get a few baseball players from,
There what I heard is pretty, though I haven’t been there,
But there is always tomorrow, that always places a good chance to the Island I will come.
But across the mountain I do declare,
Is a most destitute place called Haiti, for one should be aware.
The French occupied Haiti for a while,
The French left, causing a void in the power struggle of the land,
Just like they did in French-Indochina, in which the Americans took over,
When they sought to beguile.
When eventually Papa Doc came into play,
Papa Doc was a corrupt authoritarian,
Who had pilfered, squandered, and ripped off his people,
To the tune of hundreds of millions of dollars. By the way,
He had been supported by the US, because securing him not allowing Castro to play.
He was later put into exile, later on replaced by his son, later on replaced by Aristide,
Later on replaced by military coup d’etat, the military sought power, greed in need.
Papa Doc’s money wired to who knows where,
Papa Bush was criticized for the naval blockade of the isle,
In order to prevent mass exodus of sailboats bound for our shores
By Slick Willy, who was later president, and he sent troops to Port-au-Prince.
With no money, political and social upheaval,
If you were the of Hilton, not Paris, Sheraton,
Days Inn, Best Western, or a Holiday Inn,
Would you venture an investment of billion dollars,
To make the infrastructure right,
to build modern airports,
to build modern roads.
HELLO!
That is why the Haitian kids eat “Sandies.”

(1-30-2008)