9th Ward Blues
pt. 5
.2005.
It has been four years
and though the water has cleared,
the tears have not subsided.
These streets are near death,
scraps of life clinging to the bones
of a withered carcass.
Homes wear frowning porches
sagging beneath broken windows
that have seen more than their eyes could hold.
They say it sounded like an explosion,
the way the water took control,
broke down doors,
tore into lives,
and left the streets with bodies
bloated and floating down new rivers
carved into the landscape
of a land left to drown.
It has been four years
and these streets still hold their silence.
Stories locked down behind doors
that have yet to reopen.
Talk to the old man at the corner store,
he will tell you
of water lines that mock from half-empty glasses
and the sadness
of being the only one left on the block.
Shake his hand and you will feel
pruned fingers that have yet to heal,
a brittle fist
still clinging to the memory
of all that has been washed away.
These are the lonely times;
these, the drowning days;
this is the forgotten place.
Choked by the ghosts and echoes
of those with no homes to return to.
Deemed unworthy of rebuilding efforts,
the 9th ward
has never been a wise investment.
Tell that to the eyes
of the diaspora,
blown into the wind
and scattered like ashes of a former life,
sprinkled into the cracks
of cities criss-crossing the land.
It has been four years
and the streets here are still flooded.
Levees too weak to hold back the tears
of a people lost in exile.
Strangers walking down strange streets
in a strange land,
hands in empty pockets,
nothing left to lose.
Since the water washed away lives
and replaced home with the blues.
.2009.
pt. 5
.2005.
It has been four years
and though the water has cleared,
the tears have not subsided.
These streets are near death,
scraps of life clinging to the bones
of a withered carcass.
Homes wear frowning porches
sagging beneath broken windows
that have seen more than their eyes could hold.
They say it sounded like an explosion,
the way the water took control,
broke down doors,
tore into lives,
and left the streets with bodies
bloated and floating down new rivers
carved into the landscape
of a land left to drown.
It has been four years
and these streets still hold their silence.
Stories locked down behind doors
that have yet to reopen.
Talk to the old man at the corner store,
he will tell you
of water lines that mock from half-empty glasses
and the sadness
of being the only one left on the block.
Shake his hand and you will feel
pruned fingers that have yet to heal,
a brittle fist
still clinging to the memory
of all that has been washed away.
These are the lonely times;
these, the drowning days;
this is the forgotten place.
Choked by the ghosts and echoes
of those with no homes to return to.
Deemed unworthy of rebuilding efforts,
the 9th ward
has never been a wise investment.
Tell that to the eyes
of the diaspora,
blown into the wind
and scattered like ashes of a former life,
sprinkled into the cracks
of cities criss-crossing the land.
It has been four years
and the streets here are still flooded.
Levees too weak to hold back the tears
of a people lost in exile.
Strangers walking down strange streets
in a strange land,
hands in empty pockets,
nothing left to lose.
Since the water washed away lives
and replaced home with the blues.
.2009.
I.
We drink passion
in glasses of romance;
sweet on lips, sip sangria smooth,
you taste of summer,
drink you nude.
In the shade, quench thirst
like lemonade.
Libidinous in your ways,
be my
solstice of salvation.
II.
Drape arms, hold tight,
drip off chin;
I like you like this,
mercury rise within
subtle sins on midsummer nights;
rock me under moon light.
Bodies ebb and flow as tides,
I'll be the shore that holds you.
III.
I like you in this moment,
back lit by moon shine bright as day,
your body speaks seduction's sway.
Dance for me lover
and we will paint the trees
in muted hues
with the shadows
of our movements.
IV.
Press nose to skin,
breathe in,
deep the scent of jasmine blooms,
so softly you consume
as petals open gently.
V.
Just let me
sing to you in sighs,
crescendoed cues
that fall and rise,
the night will be our audience
and only stars shall hear our cries.
Hush now, let me guide you
through the melody.
VI.
Lover,
overwhelm me into reverie.
Hold tight to this moment
like July humidity,
pressed up against skin
let me breathe you in
with eyes and nose
and
lips and limbs,
like a summer breeze
that lingers
forever
in my memory.
flame lick skin
fire beat heart
tears fall,
body dissolve
burn
burn
burn
Lover I am here with you
at the end of the earth;
as darkness falls,
our clasped hands
shall hold each other up.
You will not go alone,
for I am by your side.
When your night ends,
we will become the light.
Char this flesh,
release me from earthly bonds.
I live for you
and with you gone,
the reasons for pressing on
turn to wisps of smoke
dissipating in the wind
of your final breath.
Stoke the fire,
ready the pyre
for me to climb upon;
baby without you,
I can't go on.
Greet your face in the flames
that swirl and curl,
wrest me from this world
so we can rest forever.
I treasure you.
Death shall not bring parting words
or the dirge of sadness.
I lay down upon coals, free of madness,
into the fire that will meld us together,
a kaleidoscope sunrise
of bodies united in final ties.
Affix our love between your death
and the end of my life
and we shall burn together as one,
eternal flames on the rise.
The twin phoenix,
our souls flying high from ashes
of earthly forms.
Reborn out of brimstone,
even in passing, never alone,
set free by the blaze
illuminating the path home.
- i be miss.abi
- reppin houston, United States
- the full info
