Lyricism of a Machete

Thwack Thwack

Machete’s percussion against the bone

Slicing through epithelium……connective……

Gurgling of venous blood

Thwack Thwack

Word painting in haemochrome

Muffled murmurs

Consciousness along descending fifths

Thwack Thwack

His eyes, a veneer of opiated hate

Her son and his, downstairs, listening to silence

And percussion of a Machete

Thwack Thwack

She had a stay order on him,

Against his inebriated virulent manhood,

Fancy though, a fool she, to her own forgiving mien

Thwack Thwack

He found her, her son did

Garishly vivisected

Barely sucking in her last dregs of life



On a case of Domestic Violence in Georgetown, Guyana


Balmy poetry it makes:

these machinations of nations

gutting others, through

their policies of sanctions.


‘Rebuilding’, not occupying,

Democratizing, not invading

the hymen of the civilized others…

or the barbarians?


Liberalizing the world’s Souk,

While securing their own Christkindlmarkts.

Democracy is now the mot juste

for being a barefaced bully.