Bora born
Joeboy _
Mountain air crisp, still on the face in
the way you sense the presence of the divine.
Moments deepen as thoughts retrieve memories of
night train grave callers who beat thempla drums for
joeboy's last breath taken high above the cape.
His heart pulled in all directions as a life
hard lived met it's match when asthma came to call.
Drowned by mother nature, stressed out by leaky
valves worn down by sixty plus years of living
in remembrance of when men once were men.
Ground well inside culture's cloak, cause and effect
deep rooted when justice left a calling card.
Jomain nawarky had dropped like a bag of
spuds from a king hit upper cut, tyson style
before both his shopping bags had hit the ground.
Jomain drunk as, a giant of a man had bad mouthed
joe's uncle down at the DAIA store.
Later found on struggle street the tap on his
shoulder hid the hammer punch to his slow brain
as his body folded unconscious, unloved.
True power senses responsibility
when innocents shelter within it's embrace.
And so it was when joe was around the place
the warrior spirit never far removed
from the peace of thempla found within his midst.
He floats in memories where youth still holds, proper
close his shade moves in to whisper in the ear.
Pay attention tawae, thempla come like a
breath on the left cheek; he giggles be careful
what you wish for, the east wind settles all scores.
- O -
© 13th sep 2020 _ Ian James Daniel
Author's notes are here.
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Joeboy _
Joeboy _
