Skip to main content

MIDNIGHT IN A HANDBAG (Ingrid Kerr~Leesville, LA)

I see you in the mirror and I like what I see
Your beautiful eyes, they tear into me
No reason to doubt, but believing your eyes
made me blind to your corroded disguise

And I don't know why
but memories, memories of your eyes.
No, I don't know why
but memories, memories.... memories, memories....

I lie awake next to you listenin' to that tainted rain
and I build the wall higher that keeps me in pain
In an insane haze of diluted dreams
even a bright burnin' candle is not what it seems

It may be safety, but to me it's hell's fire
teasin' me with all the things that I desire
But I can't have them because I deny
myself the right to ask the question 'why'

I carry my little piece of midnight, in a little white handbag
Sometimes it gets so heavy, it makes my shoulders sag
Your sunrise comes to me in forgotten ways
But that little piece of midnight always stays

Lookin' at you in a neurotic sunset
I'm driftin' through memories to when we first met
Wishin' my midnight would turn to blue sky
so I could put my arms around you and dare to hope to dream to fly!

And I don't know why
but memories, memories of your eyes.
No, I don't know why
but memories, memories... memories, memories....

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

This Little White Boy Who Wanted Some Nigger In Him (James Leland Ludeau III - Lafayette, LA)

Grew up on a plantation
Removed
Secluded from the world
I knew classes but didn’t understand race
Because what raced through my veins wasn’t something of which I could ever speak
My father could fuck the slave girls
But I couldn’t touch the men
It filled me with resentment
Fueled my resentment with lust
Until it was too much to take
It was a small contained community
White as the cotton in the fields
Only dark around the edges where the black men lived
Ploughing the fields
I’d imagine them ploughing me
Sinewy
Glistening with sweat as the sun bathed their shoulders
The sweat running down until it pooled around the waistband of their thin cotton pants
Their skin
Black, almost indigo, like night
Some like coffee with milk in it
Cafe au lait
I could smell their musk
Watched as their muscly bodies worked
I yearned
Burned
This little white boy who wanted some nigger in him
To fall beneath the weight of one
As he heaved
As he forced his throbbing cock into my crevice
I longed for even the pa…

"I Love You" is Enough (Louis Toliver Jr)

Please don’t stress I see what you do all year Everyday you show me Through your actions How much you care for me But please don’t stress It’s not money or possessions That make me give my life to you It’s the moments that are small When people don’t care to look That you show your love most So don’t stress to demonstrate What you already know you do Just say “I love you” and… My underwear will come off for you

Poet's Cry for Mike Tidewell (Barry Sons - Berwick, LA)

I heard the Politician say in a hunter’s whisper, “There’s a poet in the marsh, I heard one today. He was crying about the marshland’s accelerated decay.”
“Mr. Politician, can you help us anyway? I refuse to think our marsh is so quickly Going away. If we can scan the galaxy And bring men back from the dead, Why can’t we save our marsh? I can’t Get that around my head.”
There’s a poet in the marsh, I heard one today. Whining and crying; Who needs them anyway?” “Mr. Politician, I’m here to make you feel. Try to wrap your heart around the things that Are real. Like love and friendship passion and Sorrow; the love of earth and concern for tomorrow.”
“There’s a poet in the marsh, I heard one today." Mr. Politician, I cry for America’s wetlands,