By Stanley Collymore
What is there about sex that brings out the worst in some
people, creates irrational fear in others and causes the
sane among us to be utterly bemused that so-called
adults can and frequently do get their knickers
in a twist over something that is absolutely
indispensible for the perpetuation of human
kind – not much cop I voluntarily
accede, but nevertheless and with that characteristic
of it securely put aside ought even so not only to be
unambiguous in how it’s actually expressed but
also thoroughly enjoyable too, without any of
that time-honoured, duplicitous and rather
doctrinaire fuss which is so widespread
in what sexually active couples do.
© Stanley V. Collymore
26 March 2013.
By Stanley Collymore
Psychiatrist or not I take exception
and great offence too to the uncalled
for inference you made that you
actually think my wife regards
me as being obsessed with
revenge. Really? Well,
we’ll soon see about
that won’t we?
© Stanley V. Collymore
26 March 2013.
By Stanley Collymore
You were much more than my English Master for you
were also my Sunday School Teacher, inspirational
mentor, and as I grew into adulthood a close and
trusted friend just like you were to my parents and
grandparents before me, and subsequently my siblings
and numerous others too whose minds and personal
characters you skilfully crafted, enabling us all
to effortlessly become productive and, in
several cases as well, extraordinarily
talented women and men.
Now regrettably, as is the known inevitability of life,
you’ve passed on and sadly from our human perspective
you’re no longer physically here with us. But even so we
don’t regard this mortal exit from our lives as a case of you
having died and that’s the end of it; not one bit! For in
our hearts, minds, souls and our entire being on each and
every waking day of every year and long after we ourselves
who personally knew and loved you are also no longer around,
you’ll still enduringly live on; a touching and iconic symbol
of meritorious expectations as well as a perpetual source
of remarkable inspiration to thousands throughout
the Barbadian Diaspora, and similarly too to
generations of Bajans as yet unborn.
For human though you were like the rest of us , you were none
the less significantly blessed with exemplary qualities which
we all readily understood, greatly admired, keenly sought
to emulate as best we could and, in turn, assiduously
endeavoured, and still do, to pass on to those it
became our responsibility to teach – our engaging and
personal outreach to the consummate Master of Simplicity
who bestrides like a Colossus the world of mortal man
and whose splendid achievements and impressive
legacy, underscored by the passage of time and
cherished memories, will I know fruitfully
and fittingly live on for all eternity.
© Stanley V. Collymore
24 March 2013.
Allis Non Sibi – For Others Not Ourselves – is the Latin motto of our school; it’s also the dream, dexterously affected into reality, that Mr Doughlin brilliantly and permanently instilled in all of us. Thank you Sir with my everlasting gratitude for all you did. And I’m absolutely confident that God in his gracious appreciation will bless and reward you eternally for what you were in your earthly life and I’m sure still are and unchangeably will remain in your Heavenly one.
By Stanley Collymore
The honest truth, it’s often said by those with
sanitized consciences or who’re themselves quite
emotionally filtered: aka the living dead, often causes
more harm they argue than good and therefore
that of itself is reason enough to studiously
avoid it and, what’s more, grab every given
opportunity that one is afforded to
bury embarrassing, criminal or
uncomfortable facts. But if knowingly living a
lie is really someone’s perverse or twisted notion of
the invariable basis for what they call living and
furthermore expect the rest of us to happily
engage in, how grossly immature and
basically pathetically sick is that!
© Stanley V. Collymore
24 March 2013.
By Stanley Collymore
I must be in love, for after you’d gone I found myself
reaching out and cuddling the pillow that previously
you’d laid your head upon; which I’ve never
embarked on doing before and objectively,
unless it’s love that unwittingly I’ve
succumbed to, find it inexplicably hard to
properly understand what could have brought
those emotions on, as I’ve never before got
wrapped up with or even wanted to get
emotionally involved with any of
my numerous one-night stands.
© Stanley V. Collymore
24 March 2013.
By Stanley Collymore
Hey! What are you saving yourself for; until the
right man comes along? And who says he will,
or that if he does you won’t by then be a bitter
and frustrated old maid wishing that you’d
acted differently when you had the
chance, rather than dutifully or even
stoically settling for second best
and deluding yourself that
you’ve found real
love at last.
No sensible person would ever suggest that you
voluntarily opt to gratuitously sleep around at the
arbitrary behest of every irrepressible virile or
self-opinionated stud willing or even eager
to put it about and flippantly pass that off
as having fun; as indulging in what’s
undoubtedly the most intimate of physical
experiences with another person should
be largely based on an informed choice
juxtaposed with the unadulterated
freedom to make it, and do so
entirely on one’s own!
Not perceive it or other comparable decisions,
and certainly not the matter of virginity, as
a valuable bargaining chip for contrived
matrimony, financial security or, most
condemnatory of all in the 21st Century, as a fast
track mechanism up the ladder of social, upper
crust or even hereditary mobility: the latter
with its attendant, parasitical prosperity
and marked proclivity to be venally
supreme, if you shrewdly catch
the drift of what I mean!
© Stanley V. Collymore
24 March 2013.
What is it about sex that brings out the worst in some people, creates irrational fear in others and causes the sane among us to be utterly bemused that so-called adults can get their knickers in such a twist over something that is absolutely essential for the preservation of the human race – not much cop that I agree; but even with that aspect of it aside should not only be an uncomplicated pastime but also a pleasurable one as well?
By Stanley Collymore
Never you mind what I choose to do with my private life,
as it’s not yours but mine alone to do with whatsoever
I want; and instead of you employing the seemingly
boundless energy you exhibit and which you
pleasurably utilize in tearing it to bits, just
humour me for once and seriously
concentrate on your own life
which, as it happens, is
anything but an
exemplary one! For I already know I’m far from being
perfect, but then I’ve never claimed to be; neither
have I ever aspired to or do I currently want
to be a saint, something which you
yourself most certainly aren’t!
So rather than you unilaterally and
quite arbitrarily setting yourself up in judgement over
me as this untouchable paragon of virtue and the very
epitome of all other things virtuous, why don’t you
just leave me alone to live my own life as I see
fit and, in the process as well, permanently
forget that you and I have ever met?
© Stanley V. Collymore
23 March 2013.
By Stanley Collymore
Please teach me about love, as this unconquerable feeling
I’m experiencing within me is literally pulling me apart.
For on the one hand I genuinely want to save myself
until I’m in a reciprocally meaningful relationship
while on the other the unbridled and utterly
uncontrollable lust you’ve spontaneously and
excitingly evoked in me lends itself immutably to the
sponsorship of an entirely different and conflicting
attitude where the stoical restraints of reason and
commonsense are pitted adversarily against
the unyielding Siren voices of my heart!
© Stanley V. Collymore
24 March 2013.
By Stanley Collymore
The art of wooing is virtually dead and, instead,
what now passes for courting is nothing more than the
perfunctory and seemingly regulatory groping of the
chosen target’s body: their breasts, bottom and
a furtive hand pressed fortuitously and gratefully between
compliant and even complaisant legs, while robotic-like
tongues, darting hungrily from suction-compressed
but slobbering oral cavities, essay to bury
their way, amid the dregs of saliva, into
gaping-wide throats in a distinctly ostentatious and
supposedly intentional display of ardour. Is this what
romance has really come to? Effectively nothing
more than a spirited, concupiscent smash and grab
full of bestial emotions, but conspicuously
and sadly devoid of fine words, poetry
compliments and all the other
acknowledged forms of
civilized artistry?
© Stanley V. Collymore
22 March 2013.
COMMENTS
Wooing? Oh, you mean like purchasing long stem roses and having them delivered? :)
By Stanley Collymore
I know now that meeting you was just the overture
to a much grander symphony of love which has
been playing harmoniously in our lives ever
since that first encounter between us; and
whose wonderful orchestration will, I’m
absolutely certain, elicit a million
encores from me before we eventually
shuffle off this mortal coil for our
ultimate rendezvous together –
which will be eternity.
© Stanley V. Collymore
1 December 1997.
By Stanley Collymore
I deliberately put my deepest and most sensitive
feelings on hold, convinced that in this downright
selfish and quite arrogant world of mediocrity
where everything has a price tag stuck on it
and nothing, it seems, is ever done
without a cynical motive attached; that
I could survive untouched by all
the banality and fickleness
which I see around me;
and I was right.
But in my calculation I hadn’t reckoned with the
astonishing prospect of meeting someone like you;
because it never occurred to me that I would ever find
you in such a place and especially when I wasn’t
looking for anyone. Now my entire life is changed.
And like the early morning sunrise kissing the
dew-drenched flowers to life while gently
prising their petals apart in the intimacy
of a warm embrace - you, too, have
lovingly stirred me from my
somnolent world and, in the process,
re-awoken my deepest emotions
which, until you came, I was
quite content to let sleep.
© Stanley V. Collymore
14 December 1997.
By Stanley Collymore
I cannot say with absolute certainty when I
fell in love with you - since it appears to
me it’s always been that way. Even so,
it would have been nice to know the
exact moment when it actually
occurred; for I know now,
that’s when my life
really began.
© Stanley V. Collymore
22 December 1997.
By Stanley Collymore
Feeling sorry about something you’ve done and
then saying so, isn’t a sign of weakness; nor does
it make you any less a man or woman for having the
courage to admit and confess to being in the wrong.
Rather, it’s an inner strength that should be
sustained - not something to be ashamed
of and forcibly contained. For whosoever can
acknowledge the bad as well as the good within
themselves and deal with each appropriately,
has already learnt the first lesson of life:
that we’re all interdependent upon
each other, and by recognising and dealing
honestly at all times with our individual frailties,
we are that better equipped to appreciate and
enhance those strengths and unique
characteristics that distinguish
us as human beings.
© Stanley V. Collymore
14 December 1997.
By Stanley Collymore
A million heartbeats beating
As one are but a gentle tap
Compared to the loud
Thump of my heart
Whenever you
Come into
View!
© Stanley V. Collymore
24 December 1997.
By Stanley Collymore
You are the voice of reason and the spur of common sense;
someone who pricks the consciences - courageously and
informatively so - of even the most apathetic, truculent or
diehard morons while at the same time imbuing within minds
recurrently overlaid with dumbed-down, corporate mass
media mediocrity given to dishonestly masquerading
as an enlightened insight of reality when in actual
fact they’re not, what’s really happening in this
world we live in; effectively and honestly
explaining what’s criminally wrong set
against what’s virtuously right.
A shrewd yet young head then, endowed with a most
perceptive brain and sitting quite influentially not only atop
sagacious shoulders but also the most alluringly beautiful
and appealing of feminine frames. And who is this
Godsend to the alternative airwaves that I’m
praiseworthily talking about? Why, you
already know without any doubt that there can only
be one person of whom I’m speaking; and that
is, of course, the incomparable Abby Martin!
© Stanley V. Collymore
21 March 2013.
By Stanley Collymore
Thoughts of you are the unvarying inspiration
that keeps me going when you’re away from
me. The lighthouse in my mind, whose
comforting and familiar presence guides
me to the safe haven of yourself and
protects me from floundering on
the rocks of my own folly.
© Stanley V. Collymore
24 December 1997.
By Stanley Collymore
Would I really want to change anything if I had the chance to live my life
all over again? My honest answer, with the full benefit of hindsight,
is yes - I most certainly would! For there’s the egalitarian period
I went through, thinking that all I ever had to do - apart from
being responsible and good - was to be my usual self
with others; and, therefore, they’d not only
understand but, more importantly,
appreciate as well the human
side of me: the inner man.
But this approach, alas, didn’t work; and that trusting and naive phase
of my developing, adult life was thankfully short-lived. A time
when it seemed quite obvious to me that I was the only one
who was always prepared to give while getting little or
nothing back in return. Yet this discrepancy came
not from casual strangers who I’d met, as one
would normally expect, but overwhelmingly
from those who’d seek me out -
ostensibly, with no regret, to be the
unwitting target of their
contrived game.
Simpletons? Or, more sinisterly,
minds that were unhinged or, even
worse, irrevocably deranged?
Nevertheless, I took a long, hard look at myself and decided
there and then: that from that moment onwards I’d never
knowingly allow either my abilities or ambitions to
ever again be circumscribed or nullified by the
cynical and selfish whims of women or men
with parochial attitudes and jingoistic
minds; or brains - it must be said - if
previously they ever existed,
were long since dead!
I was, after all, a free spirit: relatively wise, gifted and endowed
with an astute mind and sound intelligence; none of which I was
prepared to forfeit or willingly compromise. Consequently,
I was determined that should I ever become personally
involved again with someone of the opposite sex, the
very essence of that quest would specifically be to
find a partner of the cerebral kind: a genuinely
discerning female with interests well beyond the latest
banal TV soaps or fashion catalogues, with whom I
could conduct a dialogue of substance; and not
forever be immersed in a diatribe of facile
discourse born of untutored thoughts:
themselves reinforced by latent
xenophobia and ignorance.
It’s not as if the mating game or selfish and unthinking procreation -
alas now rife - have suddenly and inexplicably become a major
priority for me; let alone my sole remit in life. For what I
value most of all in any relationship - great or small -
are trust, respect, loyalty and genuine friendship:
a sincere compact of lasting characteristics,
which for me mean a great deal more
than just hopping into bed at every turn
or given opportunity with which I’m fed,
to cover some compliant female: whose glaring
inadequacies and striking ambivalence about her
own sexuality and what she genuinely wants from life
are a thinking man’s graveyard; and very often, as well,
the Genesis of immeasurable impending disappointments,
unmitigating disasters and, unsurprisingly, unrelenting strife.
Therefore, whichever of the groupings you opt to fall into: my
implacable enemy or devoted friend; it’s against this backdrop,
and it alone, that any objective judgements of me should
be honed and ultimately depend - not based on idle
speculation or wild, subjective perceptions
gleaned from cursory snapshots
fashioned arbitrarily that bear no true resemblance to this
man you see, and whose ethical benchmark is his very
own. Its moral standards set by him alone and not
devised or influenced in any way, either by the
actions of others or what they have to say.
© Stanley V. Collymore.
30 November 1997.
By Stanley Collymore
How does it feel in your obsessive and pernicious
pursuit of social approbation to callously and
self-servingly betray that one person who
staunchly stood by you when everyone
else around you just didn’t want to
know? Who at great cost to
them financially and the substantial risk of
also ruining their own reputation because of
you, nevertheless faithfully kept faith in
and protected you from misfortune
when your enemies, legion in
number, simply wanted to
viciously tear your
heart asunder?
Or is the sudden and dubious social acceptance of
you by fair-weather friends who’ve heard of your huge
win on the lottery that only came about through the
courtesy and generosity of the money you got from your
sole benefactor, and as a result now want to
opportunistically cash in on your unanticipated but
opportune success by finally, conveniently and somewhat
questionably offering their friendship no less, and to
hell with true friendship, fidelity and ethicalness,
the only thing that matters to you in the end?
© Stanley V. Collymore
19 March 2013.
By Stanley Collymore
I was nervous but excited which was only to be
expected having so many thoughts running
through my head. With all the advice
I’d been given and the fears, too,
which had arisen, as I laid
expectantly in your bed.
Then with great determination your footsteps
were approaching and my heart began to
flutter in excited anticipation of our
longed-awaited love making that
I’d eagerly looked forward
to, like no other.
From my side of the bed where I’d calmly
lain, I saw the door handle depressed;
complemented soon afterwards by
your manly frame, which you
slowly began to undress.
With mock feminine modesty I cast my eyes
down your imposing black nudity to shun;
but this pretence at my half-hearted
avoidance didn’t last very long
as observing you undress
really turned me on.
And with my eyes feasting ravenously on
your smooth, dark skin that contrasted
with the whiteness of my own; the
sheer carnal pleasure from this
novel, physical blend shot pulses
of lust through my groin.
At the same time I experienced a
sweet ache in my chest - the reason
for which I understood well; for my
nipples, areolas and both of my
breasts had spontaneously
started to swell.
With practised hands I cupped both
my mounds and squeezed their firm
flesh with keen ardour; then I gamely
extended the reach to my loins
where, with great urgency,
my fingers took over.
And as I rapturously indulged in this
self-stimulation beneath the soft
eiderdown; I could plainly see -
not least from your massive
erection - that you, too,
were enormously
turned on.
Of course, this new and pleasurable
development instantly boosted my passion
immeasurably as my inhibitions I totally
forgot; and as my fingers ploughed
ever deeper and more pressingly
inside me I was becoming
exceedingly hot.
You then moved towards the bed to the side
where I still laid, dexterously pulling the
eiderdown free; then with discerning
eyes you carefully scrutinised the
high state of arousal in me.
Immediately, you daringly lowered your face
and slotted it with great expertise between
my open thighs, as you maintained
the pace of getting even
closer to me.
Then your warm and gentle head was caressing
my damp groin, while your mouth tenderly
nuzzled my bloated labia; soon afterwards,
though I was enjoying the feel of your
tongue vigorously snaking its
way into my vagina.
This oral agitation brought me close to
orgasm, pervading my entire mons veneris;
for you really made me flip, when you
peeled-back my sex lips and
started to work on
my clitoris.
The scream I emitted as my orgasm erupted,
was intense and very sustained. And when
additionally your thumb probed the rim
of my bum - Oh! - the sensation
nearly drove me insane.
The lust from this extra, erotic massage of
my highly sensitive back passage triggered
a sexual convulsion I was powerless to
deter, as a rush of orgasms rocked
my entire body to the core.
Gushing furiously from my vagina like a
hot-spring geyser, my love-juices splattered
copiously over your face to the lash of
your tongue and the adept stroke of
your fingers, which kept up
their frenetic pace.
Feeling quite dizzy, as a result, and almost
like fainting I tried hard to maintain my
composure; but the battle was one
I was in danger of losing –
overwhelmed, as I was,
by such pleasure.
Then, when it seemed certain that my luck
would run out, I drew deeply from my
emotional reserves; determined to
be conscious when the end
came about, if only my
ego to preserve.
To assist this undertaking I got actively
involved – aware how unselfishly and
alone your cunnilingual display
was keeping me enthralled;
now the favour was
mine to return.
Taking hold of your phallus I husked its
sleek head and marvelled at its reach
and great width; then chuckled
disbelievingly at those persons
who said, “the importance
of size was a myth!”.
With undisguised relish and considerable
glee I pulled the foreskin all the way down;
then hurriedly leant forward, and quite
ecstatically stroked your pole
with the tip of my tongue.
The glorious sensations from this absorbing
trip of my working on your magnificent
beam, forced a massive re-alignment
of my mouth and my lips, which
I straightaway wedged
it between.
This sensual supervision of your turgid penis
from its base to the triangular tip, created,
at the same time, a ground swell of
sheer lust that caused my
whole system to flip.
So with my mouth going wildly in
a rhythmical motion as my cunnilingus
proceeded unabated, I felt rather delightfully
wicked from this prolonged pre-coital
exploitation, and just couldn’t
wait to be properly mated.
Laid bare in this most lascivious of ways
with my private parts fully on view,
you suddenly broke free from
your eating of me; as I
wondered what next
you would do.
Within moments, however, your actions
were clear as you mounted my yielding body;
then with your head on my chest and you
zealously sucking my breasts, you
lunged yourself firmly in me.
© Stanley V. Collymore
1 December 1997.
By Stanley Collymore
I took you for granted; never realising
how very much you mean to me or how empty
my life would be without you. I recklessly
played with your emotions unconcerned
about the harm it was doing or the
untold suffering that it would
cause you long-term.
Greedily, I took everything you ever offered me but
gave nothing back in return; because my selfishness
was in-born, and so I couldn’t see either the
value or significance of your gifts to me of love,
devotion and loyalty – but most importantly
of all, yourself. Until, that is, my uncaring
attitude forced you to rethink the sense
and purpose of what you were doing on my behalf;
and whether or not a relationship that for you
had become a minefield fraught with unseen
dangers was really worth carrying on.
Or if the time had finally come for you to call it a day
and safely walk away to look for greener pastures
where you could start a new and not so
complicated life on your own. Alas, for me, with
great resilience and resource you wisely chose
the latter course, given what little there was
from me either to start with or choose
from. But with you gone - leaving me all
alone with only memories of you - I wish
with all my heart that I’d been different; and in
belatedly saying how very sorry I am for all I’ve
put you through persuade you, even now, to
reconsider your decision and relent -
and hopefully return to me, as
I would like you to.
© Stanley V. Collymore
10 December 1997.
By Stanley Collymore
No promises I make to you will I
ever break; for to do so would gravely
devalue the currency of our love
and tarnish forever the
spiritual purity on
which it was
founded.
© Stanley V. Collymore
20 December 1997.
By Stanley Collymore
Others look at us and only see
a couple in love. We look
at each other, knowing
that that same love
which they recognised –
important though it is – is
none the less just the gateway to
whatever we choose to be.
© Stanley V. Collymore
14 December 1997.
By Stanley Collymore
You and I are essentially strangers to
each other; yet I feel I know you so
well that the convention of being
formal - customary in such
circumstances - seems
utterly unnecessary
and totally out
of place.
© Stanley V. Collymore
12 December 1997.
By Stanley Collymore
Someone once asked me, in that questing but
decidedly informal manner employed when
searching for the truth, what love was.
And I gave my answer, which I thought
appropriately covered the matter in
detail. I spoke of emotion and
reciprocal feelings; the joy and personal
satisfaction there is from having someone
special in one’s life to share it with,
and to care for. I even ventured
into the private and intimate
world of love-making.
I also touched on issues as diverse as loyalty,
trust, honesty and the spontaneity of affection
between lovers. All in all, I was doing fine
and really felt good within myself about
my explanation. My colleague, for
their part, went away pleased. Sometime
after that conversation, however, I met you -
and instantly I knew I would have to
redefine my definition of love.
For in generously giving yourself to me,
as well as the manner of your doing
so in this new and dynamic relationship we
now share, you’ve not only brought an entirely
new dimension to the concept of love -
you’ve also created a completely new
vista in which our two souls are
bonded for all eternity.
© Stanley V. Collymore
13 December 1997.
By Stanley Collymore
I’ve no fear of death or the hour
of its coming; and the only
problem that I can foresee
for myself is life - For
without you what is
there to live for?
© Stanley V. Collymore
14 December 1997.
By Stanley Collymore
Having you daily in my thoughts
Is a preoccupation that takes
Up much of my time,
But then it’s also
A labour of
Love!
© Stanley V. Collymore
14 December 1997.
By Stanley Collymore
It’s a difficult situation being a teenager,
and realising adults don’t understand
that we, the young bloods, have all
the answers to the problems
which, for ages, have
plagued man.
It’s a thankless task too to be a teenager,
knowing full well that no grown-up
will admit it’s they who’re actually
the problem; a fact they
conveniently forget.
It’s a maddening thing being a teenager;
all fired up with ideas that could be
the redemption of this quarrelsome
world which we live in; yet
never the light of day see.
It’s utterly frustrating being a teenager,
to be classed as inexperienced, then
marginalised; but whenever it’s
convenient for adults,
suddenly expected to be
responsible and wise.
It’s quite sickening really to be a
teenager and always being told
what to do; never mind what
you think of the instructions
or if they’re any good,
whatsoever, to you.
It’s amazing what’s done to us teenagers
each day of every year, without fail;
the kind of abuse which if inflicted
on animals, would land the
same culprits in jail.
Where’s the fun then in being a teenager,
with no idea of just who you are?
for we’re definitely not
considered to be adults; yet -
we’re no longer naive
children by far.
So I’ll keep my head down and bide
my time although I’ll never relent
on fighting the just cause of the
hard-pressed teenager - until
I’m myself a parent!
© Stanley V. Collymore,
10 November 1997.
By Stanley Collymore
I know that I have no legal or moral claims
on you as the only attachment I have to
you at present is the love we share
for each other - because the
wedding ring you wear
is not mine but given to you by another.
And like a beguiling moat, beneath whose
unruffled surface lurks many dangers,
it shuts you in - a prisoner of love
in your fortified castle.
Therefore, my only chance of ever getting
to you - apart from storming the castle
or laying siege to it – is for someone,
preferably yourself, who’s on the
inside to lower the drawbridge
down and let me in.
© Stanley V. Collymore.
24 December 1997.
By Stanley Collymore
I know well enough that because of the existing
circumstances in your life, heavily influenced by
the past, I have neither a legal nor any moral
entitlement to a love-affair with you. And any
right which I presently enjoy in this regard
to claim some of your time is wholly
dependent on the continuance of our
relationship, itself nurtured on the love
that we share for each other and
that I hope with all my heart will
overcome the many obstacles
that are ranged against it.
For to have to give you up would be a disaster,
that I would find extremely hard to reconcile
myself with; but to lose either your love
or respect would be the kind
of catastrophe that dishonour alone
engenders and death completes.
But despite this full and clear recognition
that I both need and desperately want you in
a meaningful way in my life, I nevertheless
could never resort to either pressuring
or deceiving you into ever doing
anything that you were
unsure of or had set your mind
against. For your personal
happiness will always be my
overriding concern. And only death –
the final arbiter in these matters – stands
any realistic chance of ever altering that fact.
© Stanley V. Collymore
24 December 1997.
By Stanley Collymore
The evening sun is sinking fast,
the night is drawing nigh; and
with each lengthening shadow
draws closer our goodbye.
The dawn that hailed
your timely birth
has gone, ne'er to return;
and with your work on
earth complete, it’s
time to travel on.
God in his infinite wisdom
sent you among us here; and
we've been the recipients of all
your love and care. We
know it wasn't always the
easiest thing to do forgiving
all the wrongs we did, or
the heartaches we
caused you.
But like the Good Samaritan you
took the challenge on, unmindful
of the ridicule, the envy and the
scorn. You simply smiled
and pressed ahead when
others turned away; with ne'er
a protest from your lips, to
this your dying day.
Such faith and dedication - an example
to us all - we who’re left must emulate
and heed the Christian call. For it
was this self-same love, you see:
selfless, unswerving, free; that
took a helpless infant and
made someone of me.
It's really gratifying knowing all
the things you’ve done; and we
who mourn your passing will
endeavour to carry on what you
so competently undertook, as
we can all attest; while throngs
of guardian angels happily
escort you to your rest.
© Stanley V. Collymore
2 May 1991.
By Stanley Collymore
I always said that I would wait until I was
married before I decided to lose my virginity;
for there was more than the act of making
love at stake, and therefore too much to
lose in recklessly abandoning the
principles I’d been carefully
brought up on, and which
had always been the guiding lights
of my life; but just as importantly for me,
a constant and reassuring means of
protection Against my own
temptations spurred on by those
who would seduce me with their
siren calls, then use and abandon me.
Something I could never countenance or
allow. For to do so would irredeemably nullify
every vow which I’d religiously pledged myself.
Then I met you - and without a moment’s
hesitation or consideration
for what I was doing
I brusquely cast aside years of sensible
self-restraint and admonition. For the devil
in you had supplanted the saint in me;
and any notion of my going back
to where I was previously, was
simply out of the question.
© Stanley V. Collymore.
24 December 1997.
By Stanley Collymore
Perhaps, at times, my methods of courting
you may seem too much; and from the
contrasting cultural perspective
that is your own appear over
the top. But, trust me, it’s not!
For what I’m doing is quite normal for me -
if perhaps a little strange for you; since
it’s also characteristic of my
upbringing and the way I was taught
and encouraged to deal with such
matters of the heart. Of course I can’t
deny that with the advent of you in my
life what for me is a traditional
activity has become much
more pleasurable in
its actuality.
© Stanley V. Collymore
24 December 1997.
By Stanley Collymore
When I say I love you don’t question
me as to why or demand to know
how much I do; as there are
no words in any language
that can fully express
or quantify the depth of this
terrific emotion which you’ve
sparked and continue
to sustain in me.
© Stanley V. Collymore
24 December 1997.
By Stanley Collymore
I’d really no idea that strip-n-poke her® - is that what you
call it? How absolutely appealing yet so practical! – could be
such delightful fun or so simple and thoroughly exciting!
That’s why I’m absolutely overjoyed with myself
that I permitted you to successfully counter my
initial reluctance on this particular matter
and favourably, as it happened, persuaded me to join in.
But to make sure that I’ve fully grasped the hang of things
and not missed out on anything vitally important that is, could I
possibly entreat you to embark once more on a practice run,
and this time much more protractedly, exhaustively and
explicitly than before go through the rules again with
me of this most revealing and satisfying game?
© Stanley V. Collymore
18 March 2013.
By Stanley Collymore
I don’t want to forcibly change you or coerce
you into doing anything that you don’t want to,
as that won’t solve the problems that persist
between us. I just want you to recognize
that our problems do exist, that they’re
real and not some surreal figment of my
imagination; and in doing so, hopefully as
well, persuade you to acknowledge that our
relationship is going nowhere and in all likelihood
will unfortunately disappear never to restart, and
with all the possible dire consequences for us
were that regrettable situation to happen,
without a thoughtful evaluation of
our position, or where we’re
truly heading on your part.
© Stanley V. Collymore
17 March 2013.
By Stanley Collymore
Just bear in mind the next time you hurriedly or
angrily point the finger of blame at someone
whom you disapprove of that three other
fingers on that same hand are also
and just as condemnably pointing in
your own direction; and while
in marked contrast to your
verbal outburst or heated
accusations of the actions of
others theirs is conspicuously a
silent protest of what you’re actually
doing, it’s equally and, none the
less, subliminally a gesture
of self-chastisement!
© Stanley V. Collymore
16 March 2013.
By Stanley Collymore
When I say I love you it’s only a
small part of the huge change
that’s going on inside me,
and of which you’re
the sole catalyst.
©Stanley V. Collymore
20 December 2001.
By Stanley Collymore
He’s a constant thorn in my
side and a massive prick
to deal with.
© Stanley V. Collymore
9 June 2002.
By Stanley Collymore
Life can hardly be regarded as worth
Living, if during its tenure there
Wasn’t a single matter of
Conscience for which
Its recipient was
Quite willing
To die for.
© Stanley V. Collymore
16 December 2001.
By Stanley Collymore
To fail having done your best isn’t
something to be ashamed of at
all – however, to win just by
relying on your natural
ability alone is not
the hallmark of
any genuine
success.
© Stanley V. Collymore
1January 2002.
By Stanley Collymore
I’ve never holed in one –
but I’ve regularly
scored with a
number of
birdies!
© Stanley V. Collymore
1 January 2002.
By Stanley Collymore
Going slowly at times is often
The best way of moving
Forward quickly.
© Stanley V. Collymore
28 August 2001.
By Stanley Collymore
Please make love to me in that wild and
relentless manner I want you to –
like a man fully confident
with his art, and who
knows just what
a woman like
me needs!
© Stanley V. Collymore
28 December 2001.
By Stanley Collymore
Scruples – what on earth do
You take me for? I’m
Not that good!
© Stanley V. Collymore
27 December 2001.
By Stanley Collymore
I’m sure he wouldn’t be so
Cock happy if he was
Hen-pecked now
And again!
© Stanley V. Collymore
28 August 2001.
By Stanley Collymore
I don’t sleep with strangers, I’ll
Have you know! Have sex
With them, yes – but
Not sleep with
Them!
© Stanley V. Collymore
28 August 2001.
By Stanley Collymore
I’m glad we had that conversation,
for it was great hearing you say
that you love me; because
I really love you too!
© Stanley V. Collymore
14 July 2002.
By Stanley Collymore
He’s pure magic on the soccer
Pitch, scores every time –
He’s also pretty nifty
Between the goal
Posts of my
Legs!
© Stanley V. Collymore
6 January 2002.
By Stanley Collymore
Greed is a fact of life; however
With some people it’s the
only important thing
In their life.
© Stanley V. Collymore
5 October 2002.
By Stanley Collymore
I’m a lively chick looking for
Someone loaded to feather
My nest – and you’ve
Just been hand
Pecked!
© Stanley V. Collymore
31 December 2001.
By Stanley Collymore
Deference is the artful means of selfishly
laying the groundwork for getting
precisely what one sets out to
by being nice or kind to
the right persons.
© Stanley V. Collymore
5 October 2002.
By Stanley Collymore
Sex is undeniably the root cause of all
of mankind’s problems, for without
it none of us would be here to
instigate these problems
in the first place.
© Stanley V. Collymore
14 July 2002.
By Stanley Collymore
Having sex with one’s self may
be safe and even fun for a
while – but in the end
it’s a sterile act.
© Stanley V. Collymore
28 August 2001.
By Stanley Collymore
To fail having done your best isn’t
something to be ashamed of at
all – however, to win just by
relying on your natural
ability alone is not
the hallmark of
any genuine
success.
© Stanley V. Collymore
1January 2002.
By Stanley Collymore
What’s the point of my being
a good girl, when the best
men all chase after
the bad ones?
© Stanley V. Collymore
3 January 2002.
By Stanley Collymore
Loosen up! I only want to have
Sex with you; not to live
With or marry you.
© Stanley V. Collymore
9 June 2002.
By Stanley Collymore
Having expectations are all right –
Basing them on unrealistic
Hopes or delusions of
Grandeur, however,
Is a completely
Different
Matter!
© Stanley V. Collymore
15 August 2001.
By Stanley Collymore
Logically, would you please explain to me God why
she had to die, and at such a tender age too? Just
turned 23 years old when you, the Master of
the Universe, quite inexplicably, it seems
to me, saw fit to make that dreadful
decision that so devastatingly
ended in her summarily
being taken from
us for good?
An act of yours that permanently negated in
the process, as I’m sure you knew then when
you heartlessly slammed shut that once open
door on her, the very promising future that she
had ahead of her; all those amazing and positive
things she often and animatedly spoke about
and planned on doing and, together with
everything else that she had in mind,
were ample and logical reasons
to have her carry on living!
Principally among them, and meticulously
in the making, a brand new and exciting
career as a teacher; something that
she’d always set her heart on
doing and now as an Honours
Graduate, and unsurprisingly so with
excellent references to her name too, had
this great privilege afforded her and the
genuinely challenging opportunity
which it provided her to pursue.
Then there was the enduring love of her young
life: the man who she’d completely entrusted
herself to emotionally and romantically,
and who himself reciprocating the
unconditional and sincere trust which
she’d devotedly placed in him did precisely
for her what she’d so magnanimously
and most lovingly done for him.
Furthermore, immutably and immensely
proud of her as any sentient suitor in
similar circumstances undoubtedly
would be of such a noticeably
outstanding and highly
desirable woman; and additionally with his
head proudly held high and him standing
tall, the courtesy and honour of being
that favoured man: a distinctly
discriminating decision on her part that
most welcomingly he recalled found
instant approval in his heart, I was
fantastically grateful that that
fortunate man was me!
The launch of a mutual and most favourable
romance whose origins auspiciously began when,
much later and quite amusingly she did admit
what already to both of us and our closest
friends at UNI had long been an open
secret, that in the lecture hall during the
very first seminar of our English Language
degree she’d purposely chosen and what’s
more had also bravely followed this up
by intentionally occupying, as if
by chance, the vacant seat
that was next to me.
Love at first sight on both our part we
jointly agreed that promptly, inspiringly,
quite sensibly and most satisfyingly,
to our mutual delight romantically,
unwaveringly became a truly
committed affair of the heart which we both
welcomed fulsomely, very much appreciated, and
wholeheartedly vowed would be one of the principally
sustaining ingredients in our ongoing and resolutely
lasting relationship that we instinctively knew
and welcomingly accepted would for us
inevitably culminate in matrimony.
Then most cruelly and just nine months after our
joyous graduation with outstanding postgraduate degrees
and both of us in our first year of secondary teaching
respectively, you had her most unexpectedly and
tragically die. But why? As at the time and in
the years since then I’ve never been able to
comprehend much less come to terms with how an
incredibly beautiful, vigorously full of life and diligently
fit young lady could so ironically and senselessly die;
and to do so in the most bizarre of tragedies.
And would you credit it? Dying, most incredibly, of
an epileptic fit spontaneously triggered it would
seem, and this is the bit that makes no sense
at all to me considering the picture of health she was
constantly in, by a rapid and lethal attack of epilepsy: the
unlikeliest of illnesses imaginable in her case to bring
about such a fatality; and that neither she nor anyone close
to her, and that included me, ever knew she was suffering
from, and as we would also later discover even her
medical records had failed to pick up on. A situation
all the more disconcerting to her family and
many friends on learning that she’d died
while conducting a PE class, of all
things, in her school gym.
We didn’t teach at the same school and for that reason
I wasn’t physically there when this personal catastrophe
so brutally unfolded, and when told the appalling news
by her mum of what had happened: that my fiancée
was no longer with us but was in fact now dead,
at first simply refused to trust my own ears
or believe a word of what she said.
Then as reality forcefully sank in and I struggled
desperately to stay calm within and tranquilly
deal with the matter in hand; I must confess
that I failed miserably in this seemingly
impossible undertaking and with
inconsolable grief unashamedly succumbed to
a massive flood of tears. And additionally with
a tornado of raw and deep emotional anguish
now swirling irrepressibly throughout my
head, earnestly wished with my entire
heart that like her, I too was dead.
The years of course have gradually
eased the pain and through them all my
intended mother-in-law: a most extraordinary
woman in every regard, has in the course of our joint
ordeal been a source of enduring solace, undeviating
encouragement and a solid rock of emotional support for
me. All the same, the horrendous loss of her most precious,
wonderful, incredibly beautiful, exceptionally talented
and irreplaceable daughter, Lorna lives on eternally
in my heart; as will the uncorrupted love we that
unwaveringly and reciprocally both shared
with each other right from the start!
© Stanley V. Collymore
4 March 2013.
By Stanley Collymore
I want you, even desperately need you, but
find myself unable to adequately express
in words how much I actually do, let alone
manifest the overwhelming degree of the
intensity of my personal feelings for
you; because the fluidity of our common
language, the polished art of seduction and
the steely resolve of its imposition constantly
desert me whenever you come into view –
so instead I’ll give you this simple poem,
in the earnest hope that the sentiments
expressed therein will suffice to
compellingly convince you of
just how much I really love
and desire you my Dear!
© Stanley V. Collymore
2 July 2011.
By Stanley Collymore
You and I are total strangers to
each other yet I feel as though I’ve
known you all my life – such is
the sense of wellbeing and
ease I experience from
being with you.
© Stanley V. Collymore
31 December 2001.
By Stanley Collymore
There are many things in this earthly life that one
can and should aspire to but the greatest, most
enduring and personally rewarding of these
are honesty, especially with one’s self, integrity,
and in our contemporary world of avarice and
naked self-interest, principles too. And you
my adorable partner, lover and closest friend
have commendably demonstrated time
and time again that you my precious
love are unquestionably unique.
For in the most efficacious manner that one can
truly attest to and at the same time promptly
recommend, you’ve categorically shown
that you not only comprehend the real
meaning of compatibility but have also
embraced and quite efficiently as well, if
I may proudly say so, mastered that
most challenging of techniques.
© Stanley V. Collymore
8 March 2013.
By Stanley Collymore
There’s no such thing, unless you either wish or will it to
be so, as good or bad publicity; just publicity that’s all! For
the exceptionally clever and the prescient-mindedly astute
have always known its true value, and what’s more precisely
how to skilfully and deliberately use it with all its many
vagaries, especially when manifestly there’s a touch
of notoriety covertly attached to it that could be,
and very often is, beneficially or otherwise
massively advantageous to themselves.
It’s called playing Devil’s Advocate with one’s self or
labelled provocateur when used against others. Film
producers regularly use the technique and journalists do
too, particularly those of the investigative kind in order to
achieve the notoriety, and here’s that buzz word again,
along with the publicity that they’re steadfastly
after for themselves or their stories.
Ban a film, a book or a TV documentary, you know the sorts
of things I mean, and immediately that item whatever its
merit, literary content or even if there’s actually none
becomes headline news and the proscribed item, its
creator or both of them are illogically perceived
and then earmarked as must see inestimable hits.
Mission accomplished then, as the herd
instinct egged on by its own foolish perversity
and conformity in such matters predictably
and generously ensures the ingenious
architects sought after success.
A phenomenon not limited just to the cinematic,
print or electronic media industries or for that
matter the publishing one, since it’s a
tactic that’s also extensively used
online by police and social
welfare child protection officers and their
agencies misrepresenting themselves as
predatory paedophiles there, in order
most commendably to flush out
and catch the genuine scum.
Those disgustingly pretending to be undaunted
teenagers searching for novel or risqué fun,
or else curious and totally trusting but
essentially innocent pubescent
kids rather keen to embark upon networking with
knowledgeable strangers and excitingly explore
their awakening sexuality online with the
optimistic vision and even the yearned
for anticipation of
starting and progressively
developing an adventurous but
also a personal relationship
with that special one.
But for all their plausible talk whose true
intent, as it has been all along, is to
solicit, conditional on the predator’s
own perverted sexuality, underage,
diffidently naïve or emotionally
vulnerable girls or boys. Premeditated
targets of these disingenuous ploys
wielded against these selected victims, and
whose impending abusers with studied aplomb
immediately begin a thorough and lustful
programme of meticulously and single-
mindedly having them groomed.
Even laudably established and actively encouraged
social interactive dating sites, that said there
aren’t that many of them, that honestly and
straightforwardly try to elicit the best out of
those who freely join them aren’t exempt
from this sort of dishonest activity as
the plethora of unprincipled sexual predators,
of both genders, who use them as an online vehicle
either to influence or importune the naïve, gormlessly
credulous, extremely vacuous or the despairingly
desperate observably and conclusively attest.
Purposeful inducements that come with assurances of
loyalty generously given by those in these hidden acts
of chicanery, that theirs is entirely a principled and
altruistic activity whose sole aim relative to their
carefully chosen victims, for that’s effectively
what they are, is to liberally and lovingly
bestow in their chequered or misspent
lives a much needed emotional
or romantic makeover.
Reality though when it comes down to it is very
often rather different. For what these serial
sexual predators guilefully, dishonestly
and quite literally have all along
intentionally had in mind
and furthermore are
uncompromisingly, persistently, rapaciously
and single-mindedly after is nothing more
significant than a lascivious leg-over!
Expediently too the FBI and CIA in common with
other likeminded foreign security services that
do the same: the usual suspects who’re
either fawning satrapies
or allies of the USA, are also
known to make use of the same entrapment
strategy; but with them they steadfastly claim
it’s all to do with Defence and National Security.
Their well-rehearsed mantra, incessant refrain and
for the rest of us, we’re told, an undeniable and
unchallengeable situation which we must all sensibly
acknowledge and unquestioningly accept, since its
their nationalistic duty as well as their job to
protect the law-abiding citizens of their
respective nation. So going online is the very best
substitute option still, to catch those terrorists
allegedly that their predatory assassination
drones somehow didn’t manage to kill.
So when the blissfully illiterate, seriously
intellectually challenged, heavily cocaine or ganja
intoxicated inebriates whatever their purported
class or background is, the emotionally insecure,
attention span starved, the inanely vacuous, those
who hubristically shout out their stupidity in the most
deafeningly cacophonous staccato fashion, or the
self-flagellatory supplicants utterly convinced of
their own inferiority and are determined therefore
at any cost to breed out their racial origins so
as to ensure that their birth children don’t
physically resemble them but instead
look more like white Caucasians.
So when such odious persons who I classify as the
the accumulative vulgar wittingly at every likely
opportunity that’s presented them and with
the utmost vigour they can amass take to
proudly waving the flag of their
mediocrity, go online to do so; additionally,
and this is the interesting part you see,
unthinkingly at worse, subjectively at best but
either way with no concept of objectivity
believe everything that’s offered to
them there, one can only despair.
No new revelation certainly to those with
functioning brains within in their head
and stoically resigned to the fact that
large sections of the human race
are devoid of any redeeming grace
and so are irremediably lost.
Therefore, and this has to be said,
for the cultured, progressive and future
positive development of humanity to carry
on and not be irreparably imperilled by
these inveterate morons, it would in,
all probability, be the very best thing
for all concerned if this detritus
of humanity were sensibly
and humanely put down!
© Stanley V. Collymore
8 March 2013.
If you suddenly find yourself with or even suspected it all along but there’s no doubt whatever from your medical examiners that you have an incurably infected gangrenous leg which will cost you your life if threat leg isn’t amputated, you don’t say I’m keeping my leg because I’ve had it from birth. For commonsense and pragmatism, if you’re not totally gaga, kick in; you accept reality and however regrettably so at the lost of that leg consent to the required amputation. Human evolution too is about improvement not daft retrogression!
By Stanley Collymore
Of course there’s a God!
Why the Devil did
You ask?
© Stanley V. Collymore
16 August 2001.
By Stanley Collymore
Barbados, Embassy, Alsbach and Cottbus –
names set permanently on the road map
of two lives drawn irresistibly to each
other; the amorous encounter that
resulted kindling in our hearts
a scorching flame of love
whose intensity and
light will never
be put out.
© Stanley V. Collymore
30 December 2001.
By Stanley Collymore
I just love to see people working –
But, to be honest with you, it’s
Not something I’ve thought
Of seriously or would
Ever want to do
Myself!
© Stanley V. Collymore
2 August 2001.
By Stanley Collymore
It was great hearing your voice today:
that calm and uncensorious voice
of reason fashioned by years of
experience, commonsense
and moulded by the deep
and uncritical love of a
mother for her son and
firstborn – and that
Mum, was good
to know!
© Stanley V. Collymore
7 March 2002.
By Stanley Collymore
I’ll not compromise my principles in order
to gain popularity, and hope you’ll find
it in you not to ask me to. For without
principles to serve as the bulwark
against my follies the whole
purpose of life then
becomes totally
meaningless
for me.
© Stanley V. Collymore
30 October 2001.
By Stanley Collymore
Please comfort me
for I’m in great need of
someone to share my pain
and anguish with, and
would not have troubled
you if I was able to manage
on my own – but I can’t
and feel so terribly
all ALONE!
© By Stanley V. Collymore
11 July 2001.
By Stanley Collymore
Allowing your heart alone
to dictate the extent
and depth of your emotions
may well be exciting
in the short term,
but could prove
very costly in
the long run!
© Stanley V. Collymore
31 January 2001.
By Stanley Collymore
The genius was absolutely Barbadian via whose
entrepreneurial skills a commonplace garden
reed or conversationally the grass, later to
be globally known as sugar cane, was
first anywhere in the world to be
chosen, and its prized contents
skilfully turned into a liquid
gem that’s unique and
quite deservedly
World Class!
© Stanley V. Collymore
14 July 2001.
It was in Barbados that rum was invented with Mount Gay Rum the oldest and most eminent rum globally. On this island too, sugarcane was first cultivated and the sugar extracted from it, in the first agrarian enterprise of this sort anywhere in the world, first commercially exploited.
England’s oldest, wealthiest, unbrokenly associated and only autonomous colony globally until its full independence asked for and granted in November 1966 - the Barbados Parliament dates back continuously to 1627; older than the creation of the United States, Canada, Australia, New Zealand, many countries in the EU and Europe generally, including my beloved Germany, and is the second oldest in the former British Empire, now the Commonwealth, after the Westminster one.
Significantly too, it was the wealth of Barbados from sugar and rum predominantly and the monopoly that Barbados and England jointly had on these commodities - there was no United Kingdom at the time - which funded and gave birth to the English Industrial Revolution.
By Stanley Collymore
You’ve caused me considerable pain,
embarrassment and humiliation:
emotions I’d rather not have
had to endure in my short
unsettled relationship
with you. It need
not have been;
however you
willed it so!
© Stanley V. Collymore
12 December 2001.
By Stanley Collymore
Never underestimate your capabilities
or how far they can take you; and
always treat your setbacks as
rungs of the ladder to success
in your upward climb to
achieving your own
personal goals
in life.
© Stanley V. Collymore
24 January 1998.
By Stanley Collymore
Please hold me close, so I can feel the
comforting warmth of your body
next to mine and reciprocate
with the intensity and
great depth of
my abiding
love for
you.
© Stanley V. Collymore
20 December 2001.
By Stanley Collymore
You’re indisputably the blueprint from
which, in reality, all women should
have been made but thankfully
they’re not – for in his
infinite wisdom God preferred
to and succeeded in creating,
and I sincerely welcome,
that, someone unique who
in feminine terms alone
is an exceptionally
grand woman!
© Stanley V. Collymore
7 August 2001.
By Stanley Collymore
Life cannot truly be said to have been worth living if during its
existence there wasn’t a solitary thing for which its recipient
wasn’t prepared to die. You Senor Comandante Hugo Chavez
embodied that concept and the true patriotic people of the
Bolivarian Republic of Venezuela and their many
likeminded friends and admirers across the
world know that and salute you for it.
Death comes finally to all of us but how we live our
individual life and the good we did while we were
here is what really matters; and in the hearts
of those that knew us, remain, and come
after we too are gone live on eternally.
In the context of that and what you accomplished for the
people of Venezuela specifically as well as those globally
who’re inspired by that but are still fighting for justice,
their dignity and equality; that committed struggle
Comandante, even though you’re no longer here
with us, goes on unremittingly, consummately
inspired by your unquestionable humanity,
honesty, sincerity in what like us you
believed in but most appreciably
and crucially in what you did!
So RIP Comandante Hugo Chavez; and while your
death pains me emotionally and it’s a bitter pill to
swallow as my tears additionally and unchecked
flow copiously, you’ll forever live on in my
memory and particularly in the knowledge
that like you so convincingly said:
“Venezuela is independent, its
people free, and will never
[again] be a US colony!”
© Stanley V. Collymore
5 March 2013.
With heartfelt tears and commiseration to the patriotic people of Venezuela at your passing but none the less with unbounded pride in what you stood for and died. For as with Yasser Arafat’s demise we recognize immediately the murderous handiwork of the imperialist enemies. Profound condolences to my spiritual and political Venezuelan brothers and sisters and gracias for the friendship you’ve shown under the inspired leadership of Hugo Chavez not only to the people of the Americas but those of the Caribbean as well.
And to the American Empire and its fawning allies I say this: No matter how powerful you think you are everything just lasts for a time and eventually collapses in decline: the Roman Empire did, as did the British one for example; and hatred can never kill off the inspired dream of justice and equality that all fair-minded people strive for and will eventually win. And personally I’d hate to be in the shoes of your future citizens left to inherit the stench and who knows what calamities of your barbaric legacy? Viva the Bolivarian Republic of Venezuela and also the rest of the SANE WORLD!!
By Stanley Collymore
Barbados creditably stands apart as one of just 5 countries globally, the
only other one in the Caribbean or the Americas being Cuba, that are
officially recognized by UNESCO as longstandingly having among
their population a 100% rate of universal literacy. In England
that figure is 79%, in the USA it’s 75, while in Australia
that country’s education rating score is off the radar,
very much in the doldrums and yet to come alive.
Additionally and quite proudly so for Bajans, is the absolutely
enterprising fact that Codrington College: now an integral
part of the University of the West Indies but for most
of the earlier part of its existence was principally a
religious institution tasked with the scholarly
tuition of Anglican priests, was first a
college of Durham University and
later that of London respectively.
But it was categorically and determinedly in Barbados that this
pioneering institution was auspiciously set up as well as firmly
and permanently sited. But equally important for Barbadians
and others closely connected to this Caribbean island with
a long and illustrious history of dispensing top-drawer
education at every division conceivably - education
accordingly has never been or would it possibly
ever be seen by Bajans as an irksome chore
simply to be dispelled and nothing more;
or worse still something untoward and
altogether undesirable in itself.
Consequently, throughout their interesting history Bajans
have unequivocally, joyously and welcomingly embraced
education, and in tune with these quite laudable sentiments
their cherished island has long and reliably been an exporter
of graduates over the years. Now you tell me without any
fear of contradiction how many other countries, a great
deal bigger and much better off financially, could
plausibly in their own case truthfully say that?
So sensibly and sagaciously Barbadians see education as a vital
resource that can positively inspire as well as completely fulfil their
expectant dreams; and therefore Codrington College in addition to the
plethora of grammar schools that abound on this remarkable island and
date back continuously to the earlier half of the 17th Century, are deeply
revered since they constitute respectively the oldest tertiary and secondary
educational establishments in all the Americas and of course the Caribbean.
The University of the West Indies has three main campuses, and of
these one is located at Cave Hill in Barbados on the outskirts of
the island’s historic capital Bridgetown, while the other two
are sited in Jamaica and Trinidad respectively. However,
previous to UWI achieving its independence and becoming
a fully-fledged university in its own right and doing so in the
wake of the British Caribbean territories having correspondingly
been accorded their own independence, it was a wholly integrated
but, at the same time, an autonomous college of London University.
How very ironic then and so pathetic in the extreme too that in spite of
these enormous, significantly beneficial, celebrated, and very much
ongoing educational and other scholastic developments with their
numerous successes throughout the Caribbean, the excellent people
of these stunning territories should so insultingly find themselves
pointlessly saddled with a prized moronic, black Trinidadian
jackass and self-forbiddend poet No.1 ensconced in their midst.
A reprobate house nigger of the worst possible kind whose mind is so
psychologically damaged that he simply can’t see far less grasp what’s
staring him starkly in the face and consequently on his part has no
dignity in himself let alone, and most deplorably so for all decent Blacks,
no pride whatever in his race. So ganja or any other available drug that he
can lay his hands on becomes his raison d’être for living, and along with
that the worst subterraneous and other detrital crap that he liberally
wallows in is then preposterously passed off as Black or more
debasingly so as Caribbean Culture, when quite clearly
none of these loathsome things are remotely that!
For what this unquestionably stomach-churning junk most categorically
represents and also quite tangibly is, is a potpourri of the contents of a
patently perverted and destructive existence systematically wrought
by a totally demented brain not in the least deserving of that name.
Characteristics of which are a discordantly guttural and affected
speech pattern familiarly juxtaposed with an exaggeratedly
distorted manner of walking, all of which are laboriously
designed to entice the equally inane that this man without
a brain within his head that’s worthy of the name but
lodged instead between his legs instead is the man,
and undeniably therefore God’s gift to all women.
Well if this is purportedly Black Culture then firmly rule me out
immediately, as incontestably it doesn’t represent me, my unshakably
proud, black British heritage or categorically my own Caribbean,
and in particular Bajan pedigree. So for a first-rate Trinidadian yob
who’s probably never been anywhere near a university much less
studied at one to idiotically believe that professors only come
in monochrome, in other words with pink skins alone – can
you credit it? - doesn’t surprise me in the least you see!
So how about it BOY! Why not have a word with Professor
Dr. Hilary Beckles: Vice-Chancellor of the University of the West Indies,
who as you’ll quickly find will dismissively disabuse you of your rank
stupidity on this one, even though I’m absolutely sure you won’t be in any
hurry afterwards to let on that this is what he’s actually done. Oh, and by the
way, who like me is Black, Bajan and additionally a longstanding friend.
If that is, self-forbiddend poet No.1, you can find the time to temporarily
come off the crack cocaine you’re on and hopefully be in a fit
enough state to lucidly make a call from Trinidad to
Bridgetown, in neighbouring Beautiful
Barbados, on the telephone.
Anyway all this is rather academic really since I constantly ask myself,
without any logical explanation in response, why on earth do anti-Black
racists or white supremacists for that matter think that they actually
need to have reactionary groups of their own like the BNP, National
Front, UKIP, the English Defence League or the Ku Klux Klan
when idiotic, servile and compliantly brainwashed Blacks
like the Trinidadian, ganja-intoxicated and self-forbiddend
poet No.1 more than adequately, and also for free,
willingly do their dirty work for them?
A barbarous and ongoing state of affairs, which for centuries
now, ever since the brutal commencement of the heinous
Transatlantic Slave Trade (in black lives) and following its
demise would continue throughout the long and dark
periods of colonialism, segregation, Jim Crow
lynchings and apartheid, and with the latter
largely gone lives on still in present
day Xenophobia and Racism.
Thanks significantly to the vile and grovelling treachery
of house nigger Blacks who over the centuries have grown
quite accomplished at dissing their own race; a self-imposed
and committed mission it has become, and guess what for? What
else but to fawningly court and secure white Caucasian approbation!
Blame him if you want of course but fatuous poet No.1 isn’t the
only source of this and that’s an evident fact. But having said
that what really intrigues me even more is that while we
cheerfully cull inoffensive animals, misguidedly
for sure we bizarrely spare detrital Blacks.
© Stanley V. Collymore
4 March 2013
By Stanley Collymore
People who wave their mediocrity like a flag are becoming
increasingly prevalent these days; but that’s hardly
surprising with the dumbing down they’re
relentless subjected to of everything,
including what passes for
education, nowadays.
So when two nerds living in Australia: imports to that
country, settled by the detritus of humanity shipped
there and as far away from Europe as one could
possibly get; past masters of every conceivable
act of criminality, including genocide
of the indigenous Aborigine.
And who long before the last shots were fired in World War II
were openly advertising in Nazi Germany and elsewhere in
fascist Europe for immigrants of so-called Aryan stock to
go and settle in that racist cesspit Down Under; the
classic irony symptomatic of the profound idiocy
that these two contemporary bozos: one a non-
white Sheila the other a Caucasian twit,
predictably emit doesn’t surprise me
one bit; nor is it really any wonder!
For what I see in both of them are apt caricatures of the remarkably
perceptive and foreboding film “Idiocracy!” And besides who sensibly
thinks of Australia as a land of high culture or academic excellence?
Even the majority of its boorish, beer-swilling men and servile
Sheilas as it happens don’t! For it’s commonly perceived as
well as generously acknowledged globally to be a country
that’s full of sheep, both literally and metaphorically.
And having two doltish dimwits try to lecture me on the English Language,
someone who in all its several constructs has been a practitioner of it for
many years is very much akin to taking coal to Newcastle; for I really
don’t need any lessons either in the comprehension or exposition
of the English Language, and certainly not from persons that
are academically challenged and also mentally impaired.
Who moreover heavily burdened, poor things, with an unbelievably limited
attention span think that the “Sun” illuminatively as well as linguistically
is a brilliant newspaper or that Fox News is an eminently informative
media outlet, and what they both offer robotically is the very best,
literarily speaking, that one can actually get or else must wholly
rely upon, because like the rest of his “idiocracy empire” are
owned and ruthlessly controlled by a carpet bagging Australian!
But though expediently he chooses to be British, American and Australian
or even Chinese when it suits his interests financially, Rupert Murdoch,
you see, can and does get away with it because he’s filthy rich! And
suitably having a Chinese wife while sleight of hand and for hard
nosed commercial reasons seemingly but cleverly sidelining
his Caucasian Australian one was quite adept and has
certainly and most effectively done the trick!
Notwithstanding his success however the chink in both your armour is
that when a handy marriage to a Caucasian man is done primarily to
diligently but insecurely breed out your own genetic origin, the
current Mrs Murdoch is not a template to emulate or even try
to duplicate. For she not only has the Murdoch name but
also billions of dollars in collateral which go with it!
You on the other hand were you to travel around Australia on your own
and without your white man’s arm to triumphantly lean upon would
instantly and universally be seen in this overwhelmingly racist
and white supremacist society that Australia has spawned
as simply another yellow peril look-alike Chink loathed
and unwanted in Caucasian designated Aussie-land.
© Stanley V. Collymore
1 March 2013.
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