Latest update November 27th, 2024 1:00 AM
Jul 27, 2020 Letters
By Tulsi Dyal
De oil money is in a bank, somewhere in New York
At least some of it, while people here ah suffer.
Ninety-eight thousand barrels a day, gone forever.
Yet we are an empty oil drum, floating in de doldrums.
When Covid’s done, I’m going to Hawaii
I gon rent a boat, dey call dem an outrigger
For crew mates, I will get them from Guyana.
While I’m paddling forwards, backwards, they gon paddle
Going nowhere; empty oil drum floating in de doldrums.
Fifty-four years now, we been doing this, we’re experts
At mangling every opportunity to make dis country better.
Gold and diamonds, rice and sugar, timber and bauxite,
Looks like oil gon join dem to never reach potential.
We rather go to court to wriggle in rigmarole; and rig
In a battered empty oil drum sinking in de doldrums.
Nov 26, 2024
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