them levvies broke long time ago & them poor people been drownin survivin floatin' on make shift jobs shuck & jivin for us camera clickin tourists tossing quarters in the wishing well of their eyes
they been stranded
wading on jackson square with concrete feet to catch a whiff of begients off of our outsiders breath when we asked stupid questions about creoles, cajuns & where's the best place to get po' boys
they were always missing their babies
teaching them to fiend for themselves with smiles & an empty cigar box at their feet these muddy water colored children been tapping dancing with hunger living off of bourbon street strays picking prayers outta pockets
they been lootin
trying to steal back their pride they been lost home & heritage turned watered down labyrinth pushing them further to the outskirts resident floater we made them
they been afraid
fearin god couldn't hear their pleas over the hoots & hollers of college co-eds gone wild & every morning they realized they were forgotten left over littered hurricane & gernade keepsakes tossed aside because there was no room left in the suit case
they been sucking up ignored air
stepping over human waste & the walking dead at bus stops all along canal & rampart street waiting in their bordered skin to get somewhere else less crowded
& it has never been a secret
that they lived below sea level only protected by hope that some day things would change drastically.
I think it's important to remember how hard life was for those people in poverty BEFORE that storm hit. Mainly poor black folk. Your piece here is very telling, and moving. And this aspect of the tragedy on the Gulf Coast has yet to be adressed. Great write. Thumbs North. ~one~
"I'm scientific, but my reflex gangsta"- Black Thought
12. "RE: it ain't news to me..." In response to Reply # 0
like how you stuck in a little jazz history and meshed it in the mix...tawkin bout "muddy water colored childen" were you referencing Muddy Waters? this is like lookin at a prism getting so many perspectives it seems i just want to look longer to get what i think i missed.namean? "keep pennin till the earth birth's your rightful seed then nurture it wit more ink..." ASIEM "Kuun fiyah Kuun" Quran (Be and it is) " A writer takes his pen to write the words again that all in love is fair" Stevie Wonder
17. "wow, glad i didn't miss this one...." In response to Reply # 0
this idea is amazing and well said:
>them levvies broke long time ago >& them poor people been drownin >survivin >floatin' on make shift jobs
and then throw in this notion--
>shuck & jivin >for us camera clickin tourists >tossing quarters in the wishing well of their eyes >
for me this was a completely new perspective on katrina
honestly i been thinking a lot , but it's just so overwhelming i havent been able to get past the basic facts of what happened--- this piece really digs deep
and the closer is great
>& it has never been a secret > >that they lived below >sea level >only protected by hope >that some day >things would change >drastically.
just a side note- my uncle his ex wife and my cousin- his daughter, and at one point my grandma work pleasing the tourists in jackson square
thankfully we've recently found them and they made it out to alabama
they're all white
i know that overwhelmingly this issue affected the black community, but lets not forget that a lot of the problems in this fucked up society we're living in that are regarded as race issues are also heavily affected by class
poor people are at best second class citizens in the us regardless of race- beinng a minority only makes matters worse for them
>i aint even wanna touch it, when so much of this is.. the >complex disgrace of haves ignoring the have nots... > >it's just seemed that every little bit of outrage at this >point is 20/20 hindsight... > >i didnt think i could write anything that i felt would capture >my real reaction to it all.
i still haven't even tried.
i don't think i will either.
sometimes i feel like i'm not quite qualified to dig into your poems. i always enjoy them tho.
this one was no different.
The cry I bring down from the hills __________belongs to a girl still burning __________inside my head. At daybreak
____________________she burns like a piece of paper. - YK
23. "RE: it ain't news to me..." In response to Reply # 0
If this isn't finished -- (And when it does get finished) -- I'd love to see it in ARCHIVES ... *Yuuuup*
I'll ^UP^ it again later tho --
I've read several flows -- (Not just on "this" OKP board) -- regarding the Katrina dilemma -- But ^THIS^ one by far hit below the belt / upside da head / like a swift kick in da buttt -- And I could read it over & over -- peeling back different perspectives each time!
A guitar string vibrating, a measure of my soul, a breech in the silence -- I've always felt like words come through me & I write them down... they have no master --- gsquared ♥