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Review: Steppin’ Out: Poems and Thoughts From Yaad

Steppin’ Out: Poems and Thoughts From Yaad is a short collection of poems and reflection from Jamacian poet Patricia J. Cameron. Told in both Standard English and Pidgin English, the poems run the gamut from love, religion, family, and island life.

At first the pidgin English was hard to understand, but I quickly figured it out and grew to love the musicality of it. I also loved learning about the Black experience through the lens of a native Jamaican.

However, my biggest complaint is the formatting issues that made it at times hard to read. I also thought the collection was a little short at barely 60 pages. That said, I’m looking forward to reading more of Mx. Cameron’s work in the future.

I give Steppin’ Out: Poems and Thoughts From Yaad 3.0 out of 5.0 stars. Definitely check this out.

Perfectionist

You’re not fine,

You’re losing your mind

Cuz this world ain’t kind

To the neurodivergent inclined.

Now you’re in a bind,

Cuz you’ve fallen behind

And there’s no time to rewind

And reassess.

Now you’re pressed,

Staring into the abyss,

Feeling worthless,

Wishing your brain hurt less.

You’re a mess,

Searching for a purpose,

Thirsting

For meaning in the meaningless.

You stay stressed,

Proving you’re best

And will accept

Nothing less than

Perfection.

Yes.

You’re in overachiever Hell.

Take a rest.

You’re unwell.

Internet Famous

Like, share, repost.

Every day we do the most

Playing their game,

Chasing internet fame.

All for companies who

don’t know our names,

Who got us digging our grave.

We clowning on main,

Going insane,

Tap dancing like slaves.

As they

Pulling our strings.

We ready to give up the ghost,

Just to see whose post

Gets liked the most.

Social media got folks

Going for broke

Just to stoke

The flames of Capitalism.

Here’s a dose of realism:

We’re living in a technological

Oligarchical dystopia.

Bruh, we’re biological

Oddities.

We inhabit ephemeral bodies,

But seek to be eternal.

We say we love our fellow man.

But on the other hand,

We reduce everything to numismatics.

Here’s my syllogism:

We’re so addicted to

Getting clicks

We don’t get

How much it’s making us sick,

See how it’s making us pricks.

All for billionaire gits,

Who give no shits

As we slit our wrists,

So our name’s atop an arbitrary list.

Fuck White Supremacy

There’s no excuse

For your abuse.

You’re human refuse.

I refuse 

to be used

To sooth

Your bruised

Ego.

I am not your negro.

I am not your hoe.

No, my fro

Ain’t public property.

Us Black folks 

Ain’t a joke.

My body 

Ain’t an curio 

For you to peruse,  

Then throw away 

When you through.

My pain isn’t a commodity.

My humanity isn’t a cafeteria.

You can’t pick and choose 

Which parts of me to use 

And which to refuse.

With all due respect

I reject your defected

Infected white supremacist

World view.

Screw you.

Black History Month poetry

Hobbling Toward herd Immunity: A Pandemic Poem

Hellion health heretics hobble toward

New Philistia,

Uttering elegies for civility and humanity.

Splayed before them is rationality;

Retched, broken, brutalized,

It lies

Decrepit and decayed.

Truth is an effigy ablaze.

No fact laid bare is ever good

Enough for them to care.

They will not be dissuaded

From their conspiracy theory crusade,

Until they’re intubated

Or cremated.

Aunt Ruth on Facebook

Has the straight proof.

Look at this YouTube video;

Start researching.

The elite are poofs.

The experts are a bunch

Of dunces.

Instead, trust your hunches.

For we’re lurching

Toward the end of days.

The virus is a hoax,

a scam to get the vaccine in folks.

The mark of the beast and all that jazz.

Save our kids.

Get rid of the Deep State,

Close our borders,

Stop the New World Order.

Pay no mind,

His predictions are always behind.

You’d be a fool not to believe Q Anon

And The Big Lie are true.

Any day now, 45 will get his due.

And the protests at the capitol were

Mostly peaceful and not a MAGA coup.

But also it was Antifa and BLM

Posing as them.

Confused yet?

I sure am.

Don’t be dense.

According to them,

It all makes sense.

Trust and put your faith in

The former guy,

Because Armageddon is nigh.

From on high,

The lord has sent them

A savior.

Their great white hope?

A jaundiced Jesus.

Before their Cheeto God, they bow and pray.

At his feet of lies and hate, they stay,

Hanging on his every word, every ounce

Of vitriol he sprays.

What a dope.

What a joke.

It’s just a poke,

Folks.

I don’t mean to be obscene, but

Get your fucking vaccines!

Antivaxxers COVID-19

Euphemisms

It would be remiss if I didn’t kiss your clitoris. I would abhor if you ignore my knock on your back door. With a glance and wink I ask: do you think per chance I may partake of your clambake? Would you think it crass to mention How I wanna tap that ass? Would you be struck mute if I asked for a toot on the ole skin flute? Would you deem it uncouth and give me the boot If I asked to shoot above where you poop? Would it make your head droop Or knock you for loop to hear I like it rough? If you’re so inclined, smack my behind. Or is that out of line? As I kiss my way up your spine And listen to you huff and puff, Don’t whine. I know it’s not enough. As I dine at your buffet And drink another cup of your muff Know this: You’re mine.

Excuse Me

Excuse me if I don’t speak.

I was the kid who never spoke

In class and hoped to make through

One week without being called a freak.

Excuse me if I don’t speak

I’m busy wondering if I

Should run and hide.

Or if it’s you

I should seek?

Excuse me if I don’t speak.

I mean no offense but

I’m always on defense

Lest you think me meek.

Excuse me if I don’t speak.

But I never learned

The finer points of making a friend.

Too busy lost in my world of pretend

Where I never got sick or picked on again.

Where I was always strong, and never weak.

Excuse me if I don’t speak.

But I never know what to say.

This silence a prison: the walls a million sentences

Left unspoken, and bars a devouring fear. Will I go

Unheard again, or will you hear me loud and clear?

Sorry I didn’t mean to be so bleak.

Over the years this fear has given way and

When I go out I can hang and shout with the best the best of them.

And though the shy kid I used be is no more I still find myself

Retreating to this haven, this welcomed quiet.

So excuse me if I don’t speak.

I’m just catching up with an old friend.

mute poetry

I Must Confess

Please don’t fret
No need for distress
You’ll soon be out of that dress
I must confess
I was struck by your beauty.
But it would a dereliction of duty
If I didn’t please your booty.
If you’re feeling naughty
And want to touch my body
Then come on hottie
Lose the clothes
And let’s stem the rose.
I must confess
We’re a hot mess.
Put your head on my breast
And let’s take a rest.
Lest we go into cardiac arrest.
I must confess
Your chest is the best.
Another round of this sex fest?
I must confess
you’re the horniest, yet.

Category: poetry