Guyanas Gift from its Citizens

Everywhere,
There is overturned buckets, barrels and bins.
Filled with jumping and running bottles, cans and tins.
Everywhere turn beautiful with paper and plastic bags,
And even pants, shirts and rags.
I must say Guyana is really blessed,
Because the whole place forever decked up and dressed.
None fretting, none fighting,
Everyone does this job quickly;
Quick like lightning or Usain Bolt.
There is no heart burn,
There is nothing to learn,
There is nothing to earn,
Nothing to worry,
Yet why the hurry?
It looks like a noble job.
Nobodys getting robbed.
It maybe a matter of national pride and national service,
Maybe youre gonna get a prize;
Or maybe your name is going to be on special list.
Whatever the case,
This garbage job is surely no snail chase,
More like a championship race.
Nobodys wasting time,
Nobodys going on a lime,
Nobodys left out,
Everybody, for once, is sure what he/she is about!
Even when there is plenty, plenty malaria, dengue, or filaria,
Even though there might be an increase in diarrhea or vomiting,
Even if there is a huge flood,
No one quits,
We act as though these things are just myths.
We remain forever loyal.
At this rate,
Guyana will surely turn something great, something royal;
Maybe a royal garbage palace!
There is garbage everywhere in Georgetown,
Even on the burial ground.
You take a walk in the backdam,
Even there, there is gonna be a garbage traffic jam.
Tourists dont have to look in the forests,

Garbage is right on their hotel terraces.

Thats why I say Guyana really blessed;
Blessed with some of the best designers of a garbage mess,
Keeping Guyana forever garbage-dressed.
Garbage is a Guyanese renewable resource.
But for this one, boy for this one, you dont need a big, big labour force
To go search for it.
Believe me, this thing is not a myth.
There is always more for sure,
Like water from a fountain
Or like a river flowing down a mountain.
This thing is like a chronic disease;
One that is never going to cease.
Some concerned people may hope and pray,
That one day,
Come what may,
That this garbage sick is going to stop.
But change cant be much,
For the situation is such.
Even if the pungent garbage smell
Is putting us through a breathing hell,
That doesnt budge motion for change.
For we are really stubborn; stubborn like mules,
As though we didnt go to primary school.
However, when the situation gets bad,
We get really mad.
We start to complain;
Complaints more than a heavy shower of rain.
We want to blame the city council and the garbage trucks.
But then we forget how our heads hard like rocks.
So you see, no pain, no gain!