Sometimes I Feel the Fool (Elizabeth Jenkins-New Orleans, LA)

What I am I am – what I be I be
About the world most times as me
But sometimes I feel the fool
Yes sometimes so feel the fool

Times is times is times most times
And fools is fools most all the times
So why do I whom I feel is smart
Oft feel this fool within my heart

A freak a fool a person wrong
Sing my simple transition song
No fool I feel tis only truth
Yet those around seem me forsooth

Am I wrong to think I'm wrong
Sing my song and think it's wrong
Or right to right and think I'm right
A foolish wrong I need to right

THEREBY

What I am I am – what I be I be
About the world most times as me
But sometimes I feel the fool
Yes sometimes so feel the fool

I try to say of what I am
Yet none see me as I am
Sometimes I really cannot know
What I feel others need to know

Am I the fool for not giving up
Trying to make points carefully
Or is it others who listen not
To what I feel I need to say

When does it go too far I think
When do I quit and just walk away
Is that a failure upon my part
Or rather something I missed in them

A flaw whereby they cannot perceive
The words they cannot believe
So am I a fool for feeling sad
Or am I sad they act the fool

Lizzy

Partially borrowed from myself,and yet
Sometimes I feel the fool
and sometimes the fool is that person who will not hear

Comments

Ash Wednesday (Brian Falcon - New Orleans, LA)

It’s forgettable- the number of times I was called a “fucking faggot” as a kid. As a former child of god, I wasn’t expected to know what those words meant. I was taught that repentance was vital to achieving everlasting life. My momma made me go to church every Sunday. I said my prayers as I was told. But I eventually learned that Catholicism was never my sanctuary. Christianity was never my safe-haven. God never stopped the cheap shots. He never once prevented the harassment or pure embarrassment that I felt from the words of my “kin in Christ.” Now, picture me- a helpless faggot, blinded by the incandescent lights of an old catholic church. I was home from college spending Spring Break in my former hellscape. So, naturally, my momma yet again made me go to church. This time, on a Wednesday. It was Ash Wednesday. When I was among the folks from home, I felt out of place. So much that I’d imagine camouflaging myself. Like saber-tooth in hiding. But the difference? I had a far mo...

Louisiana Words Remembers Jorge Arturo

There’s nothing that hurts more than when we lose someone from our Louisiana Words family. But, the beauty of our writing movement is that the words of our loved ones live on with us. On June 20th, 2023, Louisiana Words Allstar, Jorge Arturo, moved on from this world leaving our hearts broken. He was a charismatic and talented human being. Jorge resided in New Orleans, LA and had been active on Louisiana Words for over a year. To honor Jorge’s life and work, we will be sharing his writing and live performances all Summer 2023. Please help keep his spirit alive by sharing his work. We know that Jorge’s words will connect with our readers and we hope to keep his spirit alive. Jorge’s first submission: “The Dog Show” debuted on February 6th, 2022 and is his most successful piece to date. In 2022, Jorge spent 10 weeks in the top with “The Dog Show,” “Weavers,” “They Say Love Kills, This Time It Really Did,” and “If Hell is Real, It Looks Like an Airport.” His la...

Nobody Said There'd Be a Day Like This (Sam Ray - New Orleans, LA)

I know how this should be: I've seen it, you see, In soap operas, Movies. Your eyes are closed, As if in sleep. Perfect peachy skin Atop a snow white pillow Under flawlessly matched sheets. The heart monitor, Quiet bleeps. The ventilator, A steady hiss. None of that is this. Your eyes Stuck open Seeing without sight Yellow sclera Dumb tears streaming. Tubes, taped to your face Delicate skin torn Where nurses Repositioned them To feed you To heal you You never liked being told What to do. Your whole torso spasms Spastic, Every 40 seconds. A machine Forces your lungs to act. Your hands are warm From hemodialysis But don't respond When we each grab one Give it a kiss. We spend the day Brushing your hair Telling stories Singing songs. Praying prayers. You're not there. Hospital staff Are more lovely If less pretty Than on TV. When the time comes They gently walk us From the room Close the curtai...

Search This Blog