Humble Mouths

Raw Perspectives! Wordplay from active minds and humble mouths.

Paradise Home

“Woke up this morning, smiled at the rising sun, three little birds; Were on my doorstep, singing sweet songs…”-Bob Marley
Melodies by birds used to hum my mornings like steel drums and banjos,
I miss the island life…
The roosters, as annoying as they were then played a sweet integral part of the day.
Fresh mangoes, guavas, passion fruit and such are a very uncommon diet in the US,
Herb festivals and tourist-calling beaches trim the horizon.
“We Grow Foods Inc.” provide the best agricultural everything.
Anything is everything, and every ting is always alright.
knife blades separate hard sugar cane crusts,
watering mouths separate simple sugars from teflon like fibers, sapping sugar canes to mush.
Hibiscus flowers brighten the mood and scenery; exotic tropic lush.
Coconut trees frame angles perfectly,
Certainly, our hopes are bigger than the few square miles of positivity,
Star fish and sea urchins are scared as hell of unaware surf pedestrians.
No thing beneath the sun loves being stepped on.
Marijuana fragrances perfume the local inhabitants, cling to their torsos like fanny packs.
Elders speak parables that apply to any application,
The youth knows no responsibility, freedom strums their tune,
Apples and oranges are favored but an acquired oddity.
Tamarind grows wild and we make juice from it via boiling,
A machete serves as many purposes as the screwdriver.
Rum yells export and Vodka whispers import,
In port, the harbor’s beauty illicit-ly paints a serene illustration.
We don’t raise cannibals or live in huts, contrary to popular belief.
My home was never topped with straw, maybe my ancestors or maybe even theirs.
Carnival time reminds us of culture, history, tributes and life.
I miss home; its paradise,
I love my Virgin Islands.


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