Came from the motherland of Jamaica
To a country that at the time celebrated the phrase "no blacks no dogs no Irish"
A once proud lion of Queens road's concrete jungle
Now reduced to a skeletal wreck of a man
Lavish clothes and trademark smile
Dented by the plight of dementia and illness
Now changed for a walking stick
And yesterday's clothes
30 years alone
Underneath your eccentricity
You showed to people
Hides an attitude for bitterness
The use of violence
Was taught to you first hand
From the old country.
My father's childhood home
Burning for all to see
In a misjudgement
Of yourself and your own fickle
People who knew you found that funny
I found that quite sad.