Getting down with CODE RED for gender justice’s Caribbean Blog Carnival. The set up is: To the Caribbean, With Love. Click this link and throw a piece at them.~


Joceline’s dreams,
eyes wide open
the priestess
hustle was graceful
little brown girls heeded
her teachings ever since
a mini-market run
ended up fatal.
Black men’s lust
without age limits
prevented from
parasiting on
young bodies.

Their mothers taking
numbers for the lottery barons,
nah not forever grateful
that paycheck ain’t no
trampoline out the ghetto.
Robby ain’t providing
upgrading courses.
He locking them up inside
minimum wage plantations.
Gamble gods enslaving
the underclass to fatten up
their U.S. bank accounts
branding themselves
as celestial hood saviours.
Good Goddess no.

Little kids drawing veves
with anti-capitalist
black angel dust.
Yeah pah I love you
even if you been god-awfully indoctrinated by the Dutch.
While you suited up
in a cold temperatured office
helping the corporate to connive.
The kids be in classes without airco and iPads, school teachers struggling to inspire.
And this kingdom s’posed to be heaven?

Burn rei Momo, [1]
Burn rei Momo
Burn Momo
Burn dammit

Food industry imperialism
What’s that?
You eating the junk
pushed by multi-million dollar companies and copied
by your local import economies.
We got trillions gallons
of coconut water why
the hell I’m putting my
lips on a Busta bottle?
I don’t need a Whopper
when I can get a fresh
indigenous produced
Warmoes veggy burger.

So the doctor cancer specialist whispered so softly almost
ashamedly admitting
the alarming rising rate of breastcancer patients is
because the way we got
programmed to not control
our mouths. Enticed by
the poison propaganda
pumped by the economic elite.

Mangos and guineps lay
to rot in your yard because
that’s choller [2] fruit, sugar apples and sorsaka trees are not revered as holy you prefer strawberries, cherries, kiwi’s to match with your social status. You colonized duppies.

Baila payaso
Asina, asina
Gosa payaso
Asina, asina [3]

You speak 4 languages, traveled the 4 corners come back to the island riding an Audi A5 with an academic diploma, but still not flaunting that emotional intelligent braveness to rethink capitalism.

Anti-colonialism lawyers with street lingo accents don’t impress.
Advocating independence or stronger autonomy while they defending pimps that take passports away from Dominican ladies and lock up ’em in cages at Santa Catherina. We ain’t see you taking reparative legal steps to mash up the Netherlands and their racist policies. We never heard you empowering communities using law as a liberation tool. Y’all never genuinely attempted to banish Dutch white supremacy from the court of justice.

Tumba songs on full blast.
The parade be climaxing.
Exorcizing their bourgeois demons.
Condom wraps in Otrobanda cementaries. Big bellies, baby strollers. Social welfare queens
in line waiting in the AM for the casinos to open. Craving
political thought fibres while mimicking bankster bacchanals
with feathered faces.
Upperclass backwardness
globalized greed with a creole flavour
IMF, Structural Adjust Program drones. Now go on wine your wicked ass to sleep pleasing the vampires of the vulnerable.

[1] a giant human puppet stuffed full of hi-tech fireworks. Rei Momo gets lit up and explodes marking the official end of carnaval. Interpretation of how rei Momo exactly gets blown up is registered as a sort of divination for the entire year.

[2] drug addict

[3] Dance clown, enjoy clown, yeah like that y’all.


3 thoughts on “Trujillonomics

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