Please note this poetry contains adult themes and some strong language. A One Jamaikan Dis Mi a Jamaikan from birth
But to be a Jamaikan is lakka cures
Outa ebre nation
Dem sey wi a de worst
But mi a one Jamaikan wha nuh care
Cau mi tink de system
Treet Jamaikans unfair
Yu kno' how much Jamaikans
Deh a foriegn a bus dem shut
A try hard fi find gud wuk
Yu kno' how much Jamaikans
A try fi go a college
But find dem self de under-privilege
Dem kno' Jamaikan pickiney bright
Das why a ungle Jamaikans dem a fight
Jamaikan people is unique
But dem mek Jamaikans future luk bleek
Dem sey wi caan speak dem language
An every weh wi go wi cause damage
Dem sey Jamaikans a bad influence
Den top use de pound fi kill de dollars an’ cents
Dem hate Jamaikans from back in a history
From de daye de Maroons
Force dem fi sign peace treaty
Dem claim sey Jamaikan people feisty
Cau we nuh tek any an any ting dem gi wi
Ebre-ting weh gwaan a foreign
A Jamaikans get de blame
But a one Jamaikan dis
Weh nah walk roun wid nuh shame
Mi cum a Ingland a study fi get degree
Yuh kno' how much Jamaikans
Hab PhD., Doctorate an LLB. aready
A nuff Jamaikans a laborer, lawyers,
Doctors an teachers
Nurses, police an soldier
Jamaikans ina mental health
An’ social services
Jamaikans even ina politics
Jamaikans a dribe bus an taxi,
A clean street an’ public lavatory
A nuh all Jamaikans a gangster
A nuff Jamaikans a business owner
Jamaikans own restaurants an bar
A nuff Jamaikans a dribe pretty car
Jamaikans ina church an ina jail
A nuff jamaikans a wuk wid rail
Soh wen dem chat any ting bad bout Jamaikans
Nuh clap yu han, shout an cheer
Jus raise yu bottle a red stripe beer
A one Jamaikan dis
Wha nuh fraid fi open him mouth
An sip mi bottle a dragon stout
Soh before yu point yu finga
Mek sure a wich jamaikan yu a chat bout
We Jamaikan people proud
Das why dem call wi loud
Dem sey Jamaikan people rude
An’ wi hab bad attitude
But a dem did mek wi come yah fuss
Soh why a ungle Jamaikans dem a cuss
Wen dem come a fi wi Island
Dem come back wid satisfaction
Dem call dem self tourist
Soh why dem tek such a big risk
Dem travel up an dung go ebre-weh
Soh why de media nuh hab nuttin gud fi sey
But call Jamaikans yardies
An’ illegal immigrants
But call de other asylum seekers an refugees
Wen dem scale de fence from France
A one Jamaikan dis
Weh nuh fraid fi fly de flag
An’ show dem wi diversity
An’ wha Jamaikans hab
Wi hab reggae musik
An’ wi gud mento band
Wi hab pretty white sand beaches
An’ de best food yu can find
Wi hab de nicest people dem
An’ de prettiest sunshine
Wen mi check out de real situation
One ting mi caan understand
Why dem hate de people dem
But love de likkle Island
A one Jamaikan dis
Wha nuh fraid fi chat de language
An’ nuh care which face wha frown
Wen mi chat patwah a town
Soh if yu a Jamaikan put up yu han
An tell mi which part a Jamaika yu come from
Whether Kingston, St. Andrew or St. Catherine
St. Mary, St.Thomas, Portland or Clarendon
Manchester, Trelawny, St.Elizabeth
St. James, Hanover, St. Ann or Westmoreland
Soh wen dem ask de question wha yu ethnic orijan
Just cross out Black Caribbean
An write dung proud Jamaikan
A one Jamaikan dis ©Kokumo's poetry, published by copyright control (contact: noxid2001@yahoo.com) Nuh weh nuh betta dan yard Soh wen mi check it out laud
Nuh weh nuh betta dan yard
Soh mi caan understand why everyone a fight fi go a broad Sey life ina foreign it cold
An de street dem nuh pave wid gold
Soh a lie dem wen a tell
Cau de half has neva bin told Yuh wuk fi de pound fi save a dollar
From January straight to December
But as yuh reach a yuh yard
An de picney dem a halla
Cause a zero a show pon de meta Soh wen mi check it out laud
Nuh weh nuh betta dan yard
Soh mi caan understand why everyone a fight fi go a broad Yuh tan up ina sun fi get visa
Fi cum lib ina Ingland freezer
As dem cough yuh ketch a cold
Den dem lick off yu door wid dem bill
De ungly job yu get is one fi clean
But yet still wi living ina dream
Sey wi ago win de latto
An build a big house dung a muckho Soh wen mi check it out laud
Nuh weh nuh betta dan yard
Soh mi caan understand why everyone a fight fi go a broad Dem still a talk bout de pound strong
But as mi get it, it slip outa mi han
An drop ina de pocket of those already got it
An de landlord a wait wid eviction notice
Fi put yu pon de homeless list Soh wen mi check it out laud
Nuh weh nuh betta dan yard
Soh mi caan understand why everyone a fight fi cum a broad ©2003 Kokumo's poetry (Gerald Dixon) published by copyright control (contact: noxid2001@yahoo.com) Another One OD’d Again From a distance I could hear the sirens again
But it seems to be getting closer and closer
Them it stopped, just outside, my block
It’s the same flat again, just last week two cats
Got arrested and another got wasted
I wonder what is it this time
It must be another victim of a gruesome crime
They said, she’s dead this time
Found lying flat on her back
With a needle stuck in her vain
Drugs had messed up her brain
Another one OD’d again
But who is to be blame
No one wishes to name the nameless few
That everyone new from they were in the first grade
Now he’s dealing, something heavier than the high grade I smoke
They say we can’t blame them anymore
Because now we’ve got our hands in it
That white s*** that is messing up the brothers
Who once made a firm fist to defend blakk power?
Now that fist is moulded to the grip of a crack pipe
In a place they called the ghetto
Have we lost sight of our dreams?
What about back to the motherland?
What about blakk man’s redemption?
What happen to the teachings of Marcus Garvey?
What happen to the continuous struggle for blakk liberty?
Have we lost our sense of direction?
What about the words of Malcolm X
I’m vex, because I don’t see warriors no more
I see freaks with diamonds on their chest
Shackles on their risk with their jeans dropped below their hips
I see our women reduced to names like bitches and whores
Not empresses and queens no more
Branded with poisonous work of art blocking their pores
And the rest, just don’t give a f*** about the revalushan
Glad to be a part of the problem, not the solution
Where integration seem easier to disguise their frustrations
Depicting the misconception of being accepted
So another brother is OD’d again
But this time there’s no needle stuck in his vain
He’s just brain dead from an over dose of His-Story
We have being exposed to for over four hundred years
Reparation cannot repair the damages done
You see Willie Lynch’s plan was no misconception
It was designed to prolong
Now they say it’s our fault the way we behave
It has nothing to do with us being slaves
Let the truth continue to be an offence
To those who choose to label this poem as non-sense ©2006 Kokumo's poetry, published by copyright control, contact (noxid2001@yahoo.com) Check-Out Mista Govament Man So the view is beautiful as you sit and twirl
In your sky scraper
Remain captivated by the beauty
Of neon lights that shines bright in the city
But step in, step in, to my world
Come with me, to the so called ghettos of the world
Where raw sewage flow underneath your feet
Come and listen to the belly of a Soweto child speak
Bare footed children caressing cold concrete in Rio
Dodging ricochet bullets in Kingston Jamaika
Whilst scavenging for food in a Shanti town
That’s the harsh reality, blakk communities becoming crack city
But not to worry
Because you can sit infront of your plasma screen
And show pity for starving children in Afrika
With wind puffed up in their bellies
While your belly is filled
With the food that had being taken out of their mouth
The money you donated to charity
To save the childrens’ fun, cannot be found
Because it never got pass administration cost
And you wonder why there are still starvation
In the countries you striped of their resources
The day you take your hands out of our pockets
And dip it in the ones sitting in your govament office
The false prophets collecting profits
The so called terrorists won’t be suicidal anymore
But be the delivery man at your front door
So before you answer that doorbell
Thinking the revalushan had being quelled by riot police
There’s a boy from Sierra Leone, holding a AK47 rifle
With one amputated arm
He lost to the blood diamond on your wife’s finger
There’s a child from Iraq who watched his sisters’ brain splattered
His whole life shattered
A girl from Sudan who can’t understand why
She had being raped and her entire familyÌý murdered by malitia
There’s a child from Kosova, with both legs amputated
Trying hard to think how to face the man with the guilt
Because papa had just gotten paid
From dealing in the arms trade
There’s a child from Southern Afrika
Questioning why most of her friends are victims of AIDS
So you think it’s strange, when I say
None of us are innocent
When we’re all forced to pay taxes
To bring your boys home in boxes
And the truth is, they don’t know the real enemies
Your enemies are not kids throwing stones at tanks
In the West Bank
Check - Out the man running the World Bank
Check - Out mista govament man
Check - Out the G8 gang
But now the mute got his speech back
And the youths knowledge increase
The rebel is about to take your seat
So the view aint that beautiful anymore
When you are about to be dropped
From the top floor
Of the Ebony Tower
Check - Out the view
Check - Out
Bus Out, Bus Out
Mista Govament Man ©2005 Kokumo's poetry, all rights reserved, contact (kokumo@msn.com) | 
