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

Come Hither (Annette Redmond Walters - Lafayette, LA)

I meant it not this way but the tears just flow and my makeup smearing all the more, leaving behind that familiar filthy residue. I may have begun to drive myself away, dragging you down as well. But it's done, I've flipped the switch and now it's dark once more. How painful is the music to my ears, I can't stand to be alone in it, yet here I am again. I pray you fly back and safely and warmly to me, though I fear I've dug the grave too deeply. As the dirt shifts within my soul, I choke on those loving words I'd meant for you. All the fragments of light I see becoming smaller and I wish to be near you in your embrace that might make me feel the warmth I'm missing. And in reality, I doubt I'd breathe another breath without you. So come hither and quickly soothe my dying heart, you are the only cure I know. I cry and cry again, come hither to heal and love me. Come hither and help me dry my tears.

Let That Fucker Burn (John Chenvert - Napoleonville, LA)

Let that fucker burn. Let the fire crackle like the whips once did— like bone meeting leather, like screams swallowed by the trees. Let the white columns crumble to ash. Not as tragedy— but as truth, unearthing itself from beneath generations of silence. Nottoway is not a mansion. It’s a mausoleum. A lie carved in stone to honor the hands that held the whip, not the backs that bore it. They called it the “White Castle.” A place of beauty. A place for weddings, for photo ops, for pretending that horror can be made elegant if the curtains match the guilt. But no paint can cover what happened there. Blood doesn’t wash out with white linens. And pain doesn’t forget just because you renamed it history. I’m not Black. And I won’t pretend to carry that weight. But I also won’t ignore it. My people—the Guanches—were taken too. Our language silenced. Our land stolen. Our names nearly erased. So yes, I know colonization. Yes, I know what it means to be disappeared. But I also know this— my skin ...

Dysfunctional (Taylor Coen - Lafayette, LA)

The flower sits before the tree, it is like an antagonist of nature. The rainbows fall against the clouds: colors burst into a buffet of light. Rain travels down into a puddle of water portraying the sight of an ugly ox. The strength is weak; it collapses to the ground, life flows out like a stream of consciousness. Back to the daisy and the overpowering oak, A lightning bolt strikes both. The war fades over, the mist evaporates, and sunshine gli mmers down upon a hidden valley.

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