ST. LUCIA

HAPPY

2023

LOOK WHAT THEY HAVE DONE Good morning St. Lucia, how are you? Yes, I am your native son, still collect- ing statistics in a would-be undeveloped St. Lucia, however, the crime rate has not lagged, ask yourself why, it’s a combination of bad management, bad ideas, bad debts, and sticky fingers. Unreliable and thugs going house to house deceiving the sons and daughters and selling them a bill of inaccurate data with their bull shit talk, ask what or where the Island rank in the Human Development Index, in the Gross National Income per capita, poverty is not just mainly rural but rampant, it shows when you are victimized by greedy hungry neighbors, the formal jobs are given to outsiders while your native- born answer to them yes Sir, of course, some live in extreme poverty, to ashame to come forward and be counted. I doubt if 50% of the Island children attend school, which is the wealth of a nation to stand tall and be counted, and if those who attend would they even make it to third grade, I say that to invoke your consent and God willing you will take back your Island from the degradation it's heading. St. Lucia my native St. Lucia, what is your literacy rate at present ranking in the Caribbean Developing Countries, mothers and fathers how is your life expectancy, what is the mortality because of malnourishment do your children die before reaching their first birthday probably. Yet you boast of being intellectuals with morals and decency you even want to govern my people, fancying yourself adequately qualified. You who are capable get involved in a country where about 50% of children don’t attend school, you can help make a difference, education can transform communities for justice, yes you can make a difference you can change someone’s life through caring and support, don’t let your charitable spirit diminish there are also many other ways you can help, not through greed and pompous pride, not through name calling and embezzlement, certainly not through trickly. I doubt if beautiful St. Lucia will or can make it through 2023, due to the constant borrowing from the world bank, from the bank, and into the pockets of the powers be, no wonder they all want to be Prime Ministers and so forth, there is ill-gotten wealth to be gain, may Jehovah intervene and shut the door on those infidels and junkyard dogs. St. Lucia my St. Lucia, the pitons are welcoming visitors to your shores, the Sulpher Springs are refreshing their spirit, and the lush climate and inviting beaches not to mention the delicious food are part of your god-given wealth, go ahead and share with your neighbors not only to the visitors it is yours and theirs also. Once upon a time those were our hidden gems, but now they are captivated and sold to foreign nationals for a mere trinket because we have become a nation of beggars, all because of a few bad- minded nasty thugs we call our leaders, in 2023 you need a change, stop being a beggar and grab hold of the wheel stir your Island to greatness. Editorial

Crying over St.

Lucia

poem by Kenvil Atkins BEULAH LAND By Kenvil Atkins BEULAH LAND Oh beautiful St. Lucia Island in the sun I did not leave because I hated thee You are dear to me like a cup of cool Clearwater But the pioneer spirit would not let me be It's in ... Read more DARK SHADOWS. It came upon a midnight clear, that Christmas feeling, I recalled that magical month of December growing up as a little boy in the parish of Micoud, oh Micoud you who have kept the seat of power since the ruling of John Compton that land pirate, not much good came out of him, but he never begs to disgrace his homeland, he did little for the people who place him in power, and after he came worse scavengers, Micoud was left in the stone ages, left for ruins, a depilated slaughterhouse and the stinking drain that bouquet the air inside the village, say three cheers to the bastards that use my people good generosity and blind faith. Continue reading LIFE HAPPENS DON’T SLEEP IT OFF Get ready to be amazingly surprised I pick up a little novel called “COLIBRI’ ILLUSIONS” full of the gusto that would move you to laughter, fright, tears, and much more if there is such a thing. Folks I happen to stumble upon this novel, written by KENVIL ATKINS, of course, I had never heard of him but the cover of the book caught my attention and I venture to peek inside for a look-see. Well, folks from the time I read the introduction of the book to the moment I was asked to buy the book if I wanted to continue reading the rest, I just could not stop yes I bought it for a mere mislay of $15.00 or the kindle version for $5.00, I dare say that turn out to be a great buy. IU will donate this little novel to my grandson's little emit. Should I tell you the story or are you now intrigued to pick up a copy of your own, well if so I will not spoil it for you, but I just want to put in the last word look out for Peabody the clown, and happy reading all. Rex Allan Jr.

Adding Poetry Oasis into the

story

UNVEILING TIME WITH POETRY OASIS: Its unveiling time, it may not be your favorite poem yet, but wait a little longer and let it grow on you, just follow these five simple steps and watch those poems transform you into an addict you can't wait to have enough, yes it’s the spellbinding words of the poet Kenvil Atkins Lewis at work. 1. Read Poetry Oasis poems slowly and admire the lyrics to see how they harmonize and captivate your mind. 2. Position yourself in front of your favorite fireplace, you want to catch every single word, and allow it to decompress and captivate your thoughts I recommend that 3. Carefully shut out all other thoughts from your mind, it is poisonous if mixed so keep your mind clear when you start reading. 4. Even more carefully cut any background music, that may distract you, then step back and watch your intellectual growth. 5. Last but not least allow my poems to fully decompress your mind and sleep like a baby. You are now tuned to Poetry Oasis. WHAT IS THUMB PRINT OF POETRY OASIS I hope to create a new mode of thought in the spirit of poetry after all people's reason for wanting a definition is to place the poems in a borderline case, causing a definition but that will not do for Poetry Oasis if you ask me why my answer to you is in truth my words seems to embody poetry, on the contrary, I have not classified this kind of poems in any class of definition hence it is an exception that could be either or neither but will always remain unique. Poetry or Prose you make the call after reading any of my poetry books. the poem Natural Mystic

Share with friends, and colleagues, the

world over

My philosophy About Poetry Poetry Oasis is my love for poetry and the satisfaction, it gives me when I read a good poem, my heroes have been few in the poetry circle, poets such as Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Alfred Lord Tennyson, and Robert Louis Stevenson are among my poetry heroes, in my series of books strength and vigilance poetry after reading some of my poems just maybe I too will become one of your favorite poets thank you, and think about it. Dear reader you too may want to take up writing I encourage you to do so with an iron will, satisfaction is a guarantee when you are reading your book of poetry, or someone reading your own words a decade later, You will be remembered long after you are gone, happy reading fellow poets! Kenvil Atkins Lewis (poet) Reflecting on The positive things in your life & Rejoice! Meet Kenvil Atkins Lewis As more people turn to poetry, it is only with the support of individual contributors like you that Kenvil’s Poetry the poet Kenvil G Atkins Lewis will be able to produce free and far-reaching publications that champion poetry and encourage the reading and teaching of poetry, making it a part of our leisure reading hour, now is the time to add Kenvil’s books of poetry to your home library and community library.

Voice of Reason / The Poet

Neuva Says: Has the fat lady sung her last song? Greetings folks I am glad you drop by, whether it was planned or accidental it is just fine with me, on this website you only get to read things of positive vibrations, like something dear to my heart, the degradation of a once prominent Island, there was a time not so long ago, you could fish near the shoreline, believe it or not, red and blue crabs use to run wild making their way to the beach, mango fruit trees were grown all along the roadside, was readily available to all no restriction, Julie mangoes included. Like everything else that is now almost gone out of existence, do you ever ask yourself why? Of course not, you just take it for granted and jot it down as a sign of the times, let me tell you that you are wrong if you think that way, thinking that way has consequences without measure, casing point the incoming foreigners have fenced you out and that is just the tip of the iceberg. Look around you my fellow St. Lucians, there is something radically wrong here, do you see any skilled migrants coming forward to house your hospitals? Oh yeah, that's right you don’t have any hospital, the money is now in the pockets of those you trust to govern over you. Oh well let me tell you it should not ever be not kay sera, sera you should put your right foot forward and jam it in the doorway, your leaders have failed you, stolen from you, and left you for ruin, but they have not finish diminishing your resources, soon another set of do-gooders will come up for their share I guaranteed you wait and see. Who among you has the guts to challenge the system stand up and be counted, as I travel towards the twilight of my age my heart bleeds for a once prominent people of character, when everyone had equal rights and justice, if you think you are being victimized now just tarry a little while for the new system will send you one way trip to the gallows. Slow down you are moving too fast, relax long enough to ponder, and think of where you now stand, now try to remember a decade ago before independence, loyal St. Lucia had no debt hanging over it, a good day catch put money in the fishermen’s pocket, the sweet grass-fed your animals the slaughterhouse was full, vegetables were abundant and the market place was booming. We had no debts, we did not owe the World Bank, no loans from the Taiwanese government, and no panhandling yep we were not a nation of beggars, and then blindly with our noses we were led to the pasture to be a nation of beggars. It could be said for the infidels who fill their pockets with your resources, yes shame on them. Now it is much too late and the fat lady has sung her last song. Editorial poems

WHISKY

HEAVEN

FOR ME

What the poet says

I wrote this poem for a spe- cial reason, my brother the song writer thought that he could turn one of my poems into a hit song, so one night not too long ago i wrote this for him, I name this poem WHISKY HEAVEN FOR ME

ST. LUCIA

YOU

NEED A

change

I get to thinking that someday someone who is born in St. Lucia will elevate and chase those radical misfits out of the Island, mind you they now have a secure den to hide in, and regardless of how deep they go, the power of prevention can stop them. They are like rodents who when their population increases show up everywhere, big talk and small-minded people, living on your Island resources of sun sand, and seawater, nothing wrong with our visitors to fair Helen but how long do you think they will last with the level of crime being committed, and not on an average basis those thugs spend their worthless hours thinking about another killing, yet another suffering parent. Bring back capital punishment, I am reminded of the hanging of Fook Sal, all stood up and take notice, and a disciplinary period followed thereafter, we need to if you are found guilty your sentence should be swift with a good old-fashioned hanging, if you do the crime then you can take the punishment, the killings will never stop if the one doing the killing has more rights than the victim, waisting the courts precious time deliberating when caught in the act, while the other victims mourn theirs loses. To the honest and decent law-abiding citizen of St. Lucia, your Island is too small to accommodate a jailhouse of desperate criminals, I say they have forfeited their rights to society as a whole, why are you exposing their crime as if it is a beautiful bouquet, you put them on TV, and flash their blasted faces in your newspapers all for a buck or two, why interview such rodents. Goodness gracious for the love of God do something, say something out loud, not when people's backs are turned, I know you too well my people, you have a lot to say when the backs are turned let me tell you this attitude is a coward’s and helpless state of mind. You only live once in a country without laws or with laws but not taken seriously is sure to fall into corruption. Making a big deal just because you place a woman at the helm does not stop crime, women are far superior to most men, but working within the corrupt system is a recipe for failure, so sorry most things have to change, get back to the conference table something you do so well, only this time express new ideas, borrow a page from the Roman Emperor rule with strength and purpose. I have yet to read up on something positive regarding my beloved Island that was not stressful. Every little promotion made to the people is such a big deal, every little gift given to the people is blown out of proportion and the people rejoice. Please fix the broken wheel before you load it with the manure of all kinds, we need a change for the better. Editorial
BY KENVIL ATKINS BY KENVIL ATKINS MORE INFO MORE INFO
WHISKY HEAVEN FOR ME Would be song lyrics This beer is not feeling me because the whiskey isn’t cutting it anymore Loud music Smokey joint blurred vision give me tempo bass and drums Sunday morning coming down the sun is up praying for a drop of wine Today the next followed by the smell of hay don’t you worry I’ll be they I was carried up to hilly Billy heaven last night and heard the angel's lullaby Dried up like a summer breeze the whiskey isn’t cutting it no more I know knot what for Guitar strings hanging on the celling midnight whistle of a rumbling train I guess Battered with cuts and bruises I ‘am a mess the jailer man shove me to my rest Stuck up here in prison don’t know what I’ve done want to go back home can I pass the test The echo of a canyon past my back door dangling shackles on my back Still, Sunday morning coming down whiskey breathe a slow red death Yet the beer is not filling me because there ain't anymore whiskey no darn more

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