It’s that point when you get to the fork in the road.  It’s the fork in the road where you decide that you’re going ahead with the person or you’re moving on alone.  It’s that moment when you look at that person and see the LIES shining suspiciously in their eyes.  It’s the realization that the lies are just too much to live with anymore…

 It’s the momentary need to walk from life and die a private death.  It’s the mocking laughter of death as he jeers at you, making certain that you know that this ain’t your time … that you have to get up in the morning and face the music.  It’s the music that starts off as a dirge, morphs into the annoying tribal beat of a heart beat that shifts into the angry drone of techno.

 It’s the anger – first with the lying piece of excrement and then with self, as you realize that you felt it all along and chose to believe their pitch-reel of lies, half-truths and innuendo.  It’s the story that remains lodged in your psyche and repeats … like so much bad curry on an inflamed stomach, causing the incessant presence of emotional heart burn.  It’s the bitterness of bile rising to the surface and flowing on to your yet rising anger, hurt, betrayal, need to kill, to maim, to injure, to make suffering as palpable as your own, and so you …

                                                       PAUSE! Mid Sentence … Mid Rant … Mid Feeling … Mid Crisis.


It’s the realization that a Truer, Happier Life is the BEST REVENGE – a revenge that can only be savoured when you …





Today is one of those days when the only thing that comes to mind is the overwhelming need to SCREAM…

It’s been a while since I’ve had one of these … but it feels the way it always does … heavy, annoying, attention-grabbing, yucky.

It’s one of those days when everyone that I speak to tells me that I need to let go of the past. It’s one of those times when people are surprisingly intuitive where I’m concerned and are really concerned that I get out of the funk.

That happens because people can’t properly deal with me in this mood. They expect ‘Happy Deemay’, ‘Bubbly Deemay’, ‘Always willing to help Deemay’. It’s off putting when the person who normally picks up the pieces needs to have her pieces picked up. OH MY GOODNESS!!! WHAT THE HELL ARE WE GONNA DO??! YOU MEAN TO TELL ME THE HEALER NEEDS HEALING???!

Yes, she does. She needs to be held and comforted and talked to and soothed. She needs to hear that someone is there for her, and not just to offer her lip service and platitudes. She needs genuine concern and feeling. Basically … she needs love … agape … filial. She needs her troupes to gather themselves together and be available for her. She needs for them to know this intrinsically and not have to be told.

Where’s the Ben & Jerry’s What-A-Cluster or the bottle of Manischewitz Blackberry that would soothe her savaged soul and ravaged feathers? Where is the phone call that lets her know that someone out there … anywhere is in tune with what ails her, even though she’s still tryng to figure out precisely which one of her situations has brought on the feeling of fucked up blue funk that she is currently waddling through…

Dear Lord, make this crap go away! Whatever the ties that need to be cut, let them be cut. Whatever the fear that lingers then let it leave …. Just free me from this feeling of free-falling into the Land of Melancholia. I can’t live there … I WON’T live there … somebody please, PLEASE come get me…

My hands are reaching skyward, and I’m waiting…



I chose the title for this blog without giving much thought to the fact that I have an infamously short fuse; not to mention a way-too-low tolerance for bullshit.

How do I feel — REALLY?? The first words that spring to mind are … “WHAT??? YOU’RE JOKING RIGHT???!”, so incredulous is the question. The person who asks this has honestly been living under a huge-ass rock for a year.

In a way, I feel vindicated. I said that no good would come of this holy People’s Partnership alliance and so far, no good has.

The unfortunate truth of the matter is that promises were their supposed future and broken promises are their present. There are thousands of citizens who are now mumbling and grumbling as they wonder why they signed on with the party in power – particularly the public servants and the people once employed by the CPEP programme. These are the people that they wooed, wined and dined with promises of higher wages, of job security, of integration into the services, of nests feathered with an endless supply of monetary goodies. They promised milk and honey and delivered cardboard and charcoal.

Uhhhh … hello!!! What accomplishments?? You have done nothing more than take the credit for plans, projects and policies already in train; and not only have you taken the credit, you’ve been petty as hell about it. A prime example of same would be the ribbon cutting ceremony for the Powder Magazine Walk Over – the one with the elevators and ramps on both sides. This was the brainchild of then Minister of Works, Hon. Colm Imbert, yet JACK-IN-THE-BOX cuts the ribbon and does not deem it fit to invite Mr Imbert because as JACKASS-BOY puts it “H-h-h-h-e-e take t-t-tooo long!” PETTINESS!!!

The project is not … WAS not yours to take the glory for. It has been the same cry nationwide. None of your ideas have been original, so basically you’re doing stitches for another surgeon’s operation, Drs. Dread.

Mr Panday was brilliantly precise when he described the PP Government as FUNCITONAL, because that’s all you’ve been doing – going to functions; that and increasing your frequent flyer miles.

Must be nice travelling every other week, especially when you don’t have to pay. Why should you when there are so many giving taxpayers to rob … I mean rely on. It’s gotta be good being the PM – or one of her ministers/friends/family members/dog/cat/parakeet/hairdresser/stylists/side piece … cuz you know you’ll eventually get a trip or a hundred to somewhere. It must be great turning up in some foreign land or another, showing off your entourage – all under the guise of seeking the country’s interest. I’m sure that I’m not the only one awaiting the arrival of all of these supposed foreign investors for Trini … and I mean new ones, not the ones already courted by the former regime and the ones who were already putting ideas into action and landing on our shores. So yeah … you’re the ONLY one believing your hype.

As a nation we feel hoodwinked, bamboozled, duped and run amok upon.

Personally I’M MAD AS HELL. Everyone who had a yellow t-shirt, some doubt and a voice went the way of CHANGE. Yeah we got change alright. We had a dollar and we changed it for five cents. Right now it looks as if we are still owed four of those five. Some of the newly disenchanted are attempting to soothe their wounds by saying that it wasn’t change but EXCHANGE.


This was not exchange, by any rate. Yes we had mismanagement, but dammit, it was manageable. There were instances of nepotism, but not like this. Crime existed and has always been a problem, but not on SO HIGH a level – and yes the rate is high, not matter how they attempt to doctor the headlines. There are crimes being committed and people being killed that are not being reported in a nasty attempt to drive the figures down. Racism is at an all time high, but hey … we’re alright – right???!

I am sick to my stomach as I watch my country unravel at its jagged seams.

We are sitting on a powder keg people. Wake up and smell the Johnny Walker Double Black and Grey Goose flavored coffee – a mixture that leaves a stench of vomit, greed, sex, lies, innuendo and ‘other’ unholy alliances behind.

Change? Yeah … change for the worst, alright …

Exchange? OH HELL NO!!! Not by along shot!!!

Are you prepared to deal with this particularly nightmarish scenario for another four years???

Be honest with yourself … a year has passed – how do YOU feel??!

Ah gorne!!!

The Pen Is Back!!!

It’s been a while since I’ve addressed all of the totus bul tatathat has been orbiting my personal atmosphere.

For those of you who require some sort of translation, please allow me …

Totus Bul Tata – My own Latin for the total bull shit that seems to need constant release.

Moving on …

WASA: The Ballad of Many a Dry River
Shock of shocks! There is corruption at the Water and Sewerage Authority! People have actually been making money off of the water woes of the common man. WOW … (as my boss would say with that particularly sarcastic drawl). I can attest personally to the fact that we the consumers have been paying for truck borne water deliver for EONS! There have been illegal and ‘almost’ legal connections made to WASA mains for forever!

Why is everyone so shocked by this now? And how dare the new CEO and Chairman talk about the fact that this authority is rotten from the head down and right through the core??! The unions connected with WASA have taken this statement personally, and well they should. The sad thing is that they are taking it to heart for the WRONG reasons. They appear to be genuinely surprised that anyone would ever endeavor to point fingers at their membership for committing such sins.


Wake the hell up Pilgrims. This shit has been the status quo since time immemorial. The thing is that had it not been for changes at the helm and in the climate pattern, much of this would have gone unnoticed or dealt with … just like the leaks in the roads that have to be repaired 20 – 100 times before the family businesses of WASA officials can be financially sated.

Question – has WASA collected ALL of the outstanding monies owed to them by big business and governmental departments and ministries? Are consumers still being billed for water and sewerage services that they haven’t received? Are ‘favors’ still the order of the day at WASA headquarters if I need to have something done? And are people in certain departments still being paid for a full days’ work when they typically leave after two hours? Just asking …

Drought is apparent all round, financial, moral and actual drought.

I’m all for conservation, but you can’t tell me how long m shower needs to be until you fix the myriad leaks all over the island(s). you can’t tell me that y yard has to become a dust-bowl until your Engineering, Planning and Implementation departments start working COHESIVELY with the Ministry of Works and Transport, thereby allowing for WORKING SMART and not HARD; i.e. don’t wait until Works fixes the road to SUDDENLY remember that there is a need to OPEN A TRENCH for water/sewerage works to be done … EPIC FAIL!

PS: Loving the fact that everyone is wearing their dusty covered cars like a badge of courage! Too cute …

TTRA: An Umbrella? Unheard of …
Welcome to the era of Sophisticated Fuckwittedness. Self explanatory peeps …

So the Trinidad and Tobago Revenue Authority is an umbrella authority that would seek to bring all revenue-based authorities/ministerial departments into one cohesive unit. So far, so good. So discussions and negotiations for this authority have been ongoing since the early 2000’s … talks have been held with the relevant stakeholders … sod was turned for the development of the ministerial campus – INCLUSIVE of offices for same. Okay … we good.

As a result of totally asinine and fucked up decision making and actions by the former leadership of the Public Servants Association (PSA), there’s a new Sheriff in town … we’ll call him Cowboy Y – as in ‘WHY ARE YOU SO FUCKIN STUPID??’ All of a sudden, decisions that were all but made, and settlements that were close doff and accepted are all back up in the air? Again with the Unions. Cowboy Y has NO authority to promise public servants payments … much less say WHEN such payments would be made. So yet again … why are grown people blindly following the Sheriff into certain doom? Can we talk here? Let’s chat about the Pack Rat Mentality (PRM) or maybe it’s Grown Folk Peer Pressure (GFPP) … not sure, but it IS something. Some of those people who are risking aneurysms while marching aimlessly in 36-degree Celsius weather are some of the same people who profess that they are independent and free thinkers. Here’s the thing … these are also the same parents who ask their children if they would jump off of a cliff if little Timmy next door did it. Meantime, they are yelling at their kids for looking at them in THAT tone of voice – the one that says “Are you Freakin’ serious??!”

Again with the massive doses of sleeping pills … WAKE UP!!! You are effectively ‘spinning top in mud’ when you should be doing what you can to prepare for early retirement or career shifts. I never said that it was pleasant … what I am saying is that it is time to stop acting like you didn’t know that it was going to happen … YOU KNEW! Stop drinking the blasted Kool-Aid and take a purge!

Opposition: We Just Say No For No’s Sake
What a frickin’ mess this Motley Crew be! What – I’m supposed to give them a free pass just because the leader is a female? Fuckno! It’s because a woman is rumored to have more common sense that I will NOT. People … if you’re gonna say ‘no’ to a bill/amendment/Chinese take-out restaurant order – give a fuckin’ reason! No for no doesn’t sit well with the public at large. We are a lot smarter than you think we are – honest! Shit like that just pisses us off.

Then there is the latest batch of Parliamentarians. The leader has successfully regurgitated a man so pompous, a man with his head stuck so far up his ass that he is effectively out of touch with reality and common sense. He needs to go back to visiting the damnable Queen.

Another faux pas is the keeping and placing in the front bench … the Automaton of the Panday Era – the Marked one. What purpose can he possibly serve but to be a constant reminder of a bygone time that most of us would rather forget???!

Then there is the addition of the bald-headed, ox-like moron (did I say that out loud???!) – I mean, oxymoron. She began her decades of being the Tirade Queen by going up against the then UNC government – which by the way was made up of the majority of jackals that surround her now – the same ones who spat her out without her long-service award, gratuity and pension. Enter the era of the Bell and Placard – but where is she now? Sitting in the opposition UNC’s lap, of course. But wait – it get’s worse. Every year she parades the highways and byways supposedly in the name of and for the love of children. This includes her recent crying jag at the funeral held for that unfortunate family recently gunned down in the midst of gang warfare. She cried … she cried for the ones gone and she cried for the ones left behind. Yet she stood in Parliament last week and wept for the PRISONERS? Aren’t these the same prisoners, some of whom sit in their cells with their mobile phones and order hits from within those walls??? PICK A FUCKIN SIDE AND BE TRUE TO IT! Y’all waffle more than Aunt Jemima.

Is it any wonder that many view this particular leader’s election of some sort of political gag, with her dangling at the end of some marionette strings???

This is where the Pen pauses … stay tuned for more!




It should have been a simple process … it was supposed to be in-and-out in about a half an hour. It was not to be.

Anyone who lives here, has visited here or has even had a layover in our airport has come into contact with the bureaucratic labyrinth that is the Immigration process in Trinidad and Tobago; and none of the aforementioned segments of our society have ever really fully made it out of the maze.

Well … I found myself fully ensconced in the Matrix on Wednesday. I entered the matrix that morning at approximately 9AM when I presented myself to the offices of a REPUTABLE Commissioner of Affidavits, only to find a long line of fellow hopefuls and doors that were firmly shut … AT 9AM in a notoriously 8 to 4 country … STRIKE ONE.

I took myself off to the Hall of Justice to visit with my sister-friend, who is a Clerk to Judges, where I was informed that she was not in the building, only to call her and have her appear from INSIDE the very building that she was supposedly out of … this is a building that is virtually crawling with every sort of security device, cameras a, police and security personnel. RIIIIIIIIIIIGHT! STRIKE TWO.

I went back to the offices of the reputable commissioner of affidavits to find that she was indeed on duty with an office full of people frothing at the mouth to have their wrongs righted by the goodly officer of the Public Domain. I waited, got my form signed and stamped, paid my fees and took myself off to the Immigration Department – a division of the Ministry of National Security.

I opened the doors to two serpentining, intertwining lines – one to the Receptionist … one to the Collections Counter. I had to play a game of FIND MY END to know where I should stand. While shuffling off to my own private ‘Buffalo”, I witnessed four women bedecked in key cards swinging from their necks reading the words ‘MINISTRY OF CULTURE’, sauntering in. One of them stood off to the left and the other three proceeded to the counter to be attended to. Did I mention that they went directly to the SAME counter that approximately TWENTY of us were standing IN A LINE to get to for the same service? No? Well they did. This incensed a few of my fellow shufflers and they proceeded t raise a bit of a stink, one of them even going to far as to take himself to the front of the line. That’s when the policeman on duty decided that he felt the need to act.

Here’s the hilarity … these three women walked STRAIGHT UP TO THE COUNTER and officer chupidy stood by and WATCHED, but one man moved from the ACTUAL LINE and he is angry??? WHAT THE FUCK???! STRIKE THREE.

Another officer came over and spoke to the gentleman and informed him that that sort of thing happens often when OTHER GOVERNMENTAL OFFICERS come in to the office. Note to self: wear a Governmental key card around neck the NEXT time I need to be treated ‘SPECIALLY’ at a governmental office .

Having finally gained the front of the ACTUAL line, I presented my documents and was about to explain about my lost passport and form regarding same when I was told that all they needed were the ID Cards involved. I submitted same, was told that the passports were ready and that I needed to have a seat and wait for my name to be called. I complied.

I sat there observing the colourfully dressed members of staff, wondering how come they weren’t wearing the prescribed blue and grey uniform of the Division. I dismissed the thought as I continued my penance – yes my penance because it was almost three hours before I was called to the Issuance Counter. I produced the documents required only to be told THEN that I was unable to collect my passport because my LOST PASSPORT FORM was printed on the WRONG SIZED PAPER and not two sided as recommended. I am standing at the counter with a form, signed by the Police and a Commissioner of Affidavits (A signature and stamp that I had to pay for as previously stated!) and you’re going to tell me that it’s the wrong sized paper when your fuckin’ PDF files feed at lettersized???! And how exactly is this my fault???!

I am then sent to the receptionist who then proceeds to tell me that I “Cyah get a form until yuh have ah appointment.” I then inhale as DEEPLY as possible so as not to blow this little fuckwits brains out and inform the little brightly dressed OJTer that I was in fact COLLECTING MY ALREADY PROCESSED PASSPORT … that I already had my appointment and was sent to her to see if the form would be accepted. She then informs “Well I have tuh talk to my Supervisor!” I then went back to the other brightly dressed person who sent me to her in the first place to ask why I can’t get the passport on submission of the form, only to be told that they have to INVESTIGATE whether my passport is REALLY lost – as if I would go through this insipid shit all over again – because no one is to have two valid passports. I tell miss thing that my passport was expired and that all she has to do is check the form in front of her. eyes are rolled at me … “Ma’am … be that as it may we HAVE to investigate!”

Question – If I lost my passport and couldn’t find it, having traced and retraced my steps, how de arse are they going to investigate the whereabouts of my passport? Is the plan to stand on every corner in Port of Spain and shout ‘HERE PASSPORT, PASSPORT, PASSPORT!” in the hopes that it fuckin answers???
When the illusive Supervisor finally turns up forty five minutes later the woman – another TEMP – informs me that I ‘Should have KNOWN that I needed to ADJUST the PDF FEED so that it would print on Legal paper” and then proceeds to ask me in her own ‘warm’ way “YOU TINK YOU IS DE ONLY PERSON WHOEVER PRINT DIS FORM ONLINE?” I open my mouth to tell her just what I think of her fuckwitted and nasty-ass attitude but she cuts me off with “:ANYWAY WE EH ARGUIN ABOUT DE FORM. IT WRONG AN’ IS NOT OUR FAULT – START OVER!” and then she shoves a printed form at me … looks over my head and shouts “NEXT!”

Now I ask you — what would you have done then? How would you have felt, having been so unceremoniously dismissed by a PUBLIC SERVANT WHOSE SALARY AND BENEFITS ARE PAID BY YOUR BLOOD, SWEAT, TEARS AND TAXES? In fact how would you react having been assaulted by an entire fuckin system???!

Honestly, I felt raped, taken advantage of and thrown on a heap for speedy disposal.

I know that temps and OJTers are a part of life in the government service – heck, I’ve been a temp in the service – and kudos to the powers that be for trying to train out young’uns for the world of work; but that’s just it – THESE PEOPLE ARE NOT TRAINED!

After what I and the other pilgrims went through on Wednesday – I suggest that the Ministry of National Security Passport office is NOT the place for priggish, ill-mannered temps and pregnant, impatient, short-tempered OJTers – people are already in a state of shock and annoyance when they open those doors and enter the Labyrinth of Bedlam … the Matrix of Mayhem. It would so ease the pain and frustration to be served by a PROFESSIONAL member of staff who has a clue, some manners, and proper CSR training, but I know that somewhere in the dark and cobwebbed filled corridors of the Ministerial Human Resources Department, some grey-headed clerk just had a fuckin heart attack because they can’t remember the last time they heard CSR Training and Staff in the same sentence! That shit just ain’t done!

So as a result, we are doomed to remain like Charlie One Note … dancing in our sleep and dreaming of the day when someone cracks the code and we can finally escape THE MATRIX OF BUREAUCRATIC DOOM with the simple words “Good Morning, How can I be of service to you today?”

NB: For those of you who don’t know, an OJTer is an On The Job Training participant.



They say that ‘no man is an island’ … well at this particular time of my life I feel like I’m sitting in the middle of a sea of misconception, mis-communication and as though I am being totally misunderstood.

I have been pouring my heart out to the ones nearest and dearest and I have come to realize after all of this time that NO ONE gets what I have been trying to say … absolutely no one …

Do you know how frightening that is to admit? I have been nothing but the voice of one who cries out in the wilderness … and as such, I have been offered nothing but platitudes and placebos as the means of healing that which ails me.

Ladies and gentlemen … me heart is broken at this point in time and I hurt in places that defy common sense — yet the only thing offered to me by those who supposedly know me best is ANYTHING WORTH HAVING IS WORTH FIGHTING FOR.

Here I stand … naked and vulnerable … exposed to the elements and all that is being given to me is TIME HEALS ALL WOUNDS …

I am speechless in this time of confusion as I try to understand the ambiguous greeting that befell me this evening in the face of all oF my excitement about what was going on around me and I am told NO ONE CAN UNDERSTAND WHAT IS GOING ON BUT YOU.

Is pain something that does not translate well? Is it that the ones that I have counted on thus far have no fucking clue about the pain that has engulfed my heart? Or is it that it is as I have always feared … they just really don’t care…

My heart is aching and I am swimming in a sea of platitudinous nonsensical words that do nothing but aggravate the case that holds dear my soul … I have come to this point of non-understanding via swimming in a tide of nonsense words and in the hope that I will be thrown off the scent of ones who just don’t get it …

I am tired of the words offered to me … the words that are offered as band aids for my broken me … words spewed at me in the belief that once they are uttered I would indeed shut the fuck up…

My heart is aching and here I stand in this place of labyrinth-like speech from people who should supposedly know better … from people whom I have opened myself up to … people whom I have shed my lifeblood for …
How stupid am I to always be so willing to give of self in the hope of receiving treatment in like …

Note to the universe:

I am tired … I am talked out and I am cried out…/ I have said all that I can and it is time for someone else to do the talking … I am all cried out and it is time for someone else to shed a tear … I have come to this place now of admitting the brokenness that swims around this heart of mine … there is nothing left in me … not at this time..

It is your time to admit that I have been wronged and it is your turn to admit that you need to fix it …

It is your turn to bring wholeness to this broken situation – though temporary it may be …

It is your turn to make this make sense … it is your turn Universe to bring me to a place of happiness and completion … I surrender to you … you win!

I am broken and though this is a temporary time of broken-ness … it is still real and I have no intention of just sitting by and accepting the platitudes and the fuckery that springs eternal from those round me …

I have been known to burn a bush or two in my ire and I feel the need to bring out ye ole extinguisher just in case I come to the point of total fedupness and irritation…

I am broken…

I seek solace and comfort … and I look forward to the explanations regarding the one who has caused my ire, my confusion and my need for clarity …
Wish me luck as I wait for what is due to me … involvement and clarity of mind …

Can someone be there for me just this once???

Thanks …