Tag Archives: #the south

SUGARCANE

Image
(Image Courtesy of Google Images)

The cane-fields were thick and tall but the summer’s sun much higher.
We ran through those paths between the green rows of sweetness
and the laughter of your voice made the sugarcane that much sweeter.
I cut down a stalk at the risk of some farmer finding out and made a flute
and we danced on the riverbank of the Mighty Mississippi that day.
You told me to follow my dreams whatever they might become but I said
I only had one dream and it had come true that day.  We were 13 and
I moved on but you died the following week.

:: 02-25-2014 ::


THE VILE THING

I saw some things as a kid, yes I did.
Born in Texas and moved to Louisiana
when my mother had enough of the beatings
from her drug-crazed musician of a husband.
I have to tell you that my dad was a racist.
He didn’t trust people of white skin but
I had no idea about his failings at that
early of age 0-5.  I only knew one brand
of skin under his roof and it was non-white
to ebony.  He was a womanizer too and
I didn’t know that he should not have
taken me along his rides on Sunday
to the ‘ball game’ when in fact he was
seeing some young beautiful woman
downtown Houston.  She would always
give me a kiss on the cheek.  Her
language was Spanish but I didn’t
understand a speck of her words but
did understand her touching my dad.

Mom moved to the swampland which
was very fitting for her and us
boys.  There are some places in
Louisiana that truly never see the
ray of sun due to the foliage
and Spanish Moss.  She smothered
many years of our youth in this
bayou avenue of murky brown waters
that mixed with voodoo and spirits
that to this day have no clear name.
The tales to tell are too many
even for a prolific writer — if
he may ever come to the table
to write about those nebulous
images and scents and emotions.
But there are a few things that I
can write about and it deals with
the most diseased and hateful
thing under the sun.  Prejudice.
I saw it first-hand in the 1960s,
and was a part of the victims
albeit not so much as my friends
of darker color who still reside
within the bayou land.  I saw
it and witnessed it all in full-
color.

I really don’t think there’s enough
whiskey or wine or even drugs to
open that door for my keyboard.
It is a vile thing to see fellow
humans this way and I am disgraced
by my association with humanity.

We are all children under one roof.
And we all have only one Father.
I hope he returns home soon.
There’s a reckoning to be hand.
Sooner than later I pray.

:: 02-24-2014 ::