Skip to main content

The Bayou Negro Lay (James Earl Anthony- New Orleans, LA)

Lay me down sweet Nola Negro man; The touch of your brittle barred hand

Scraped across my fair pasty body; A kiss from your almond delight lips


A spark from my plump red lips, On the bayou we lay in secret

You on top, I on bottom

Strong ox arms with no secret wonder

You built many a house with those barred hands; Legs fast as the rising cheetah awaking for Africa

Hair crisp as the night sunset, Slick as the warmest treasure

Golden eyes burdened with soulless creation, love for me

A backbone scarred with sacred whips from hell

Voice of a triumphant African king; Hold me close my Nola Negro man

Let me not go until the erased time Or when white man discover

Ginger and Negro lay on the bayou, time on our hands in the sweet tall grass

I on top, you on bottom

Placing your barred hands upon my hips,thrust in motion of love set aflame

For all nature to witness, love between white man, black man

The still rod of lust no more filled with a heart in souls uncompared

Fill my desire Nola Negro man

Lay me softly on the bayou set aflame the sweet desire within our eyes

No love Uncle Tom can compare

Sweet Nola Negro Man, I long for thee touch

My sweet gentle Nola Negro Man, running time, north bound

Love bound, conquered not

On the bayou we lay my sweet Nola Negro man

Amongst the tall grass where white man can’t see

On the bayou we lay, with love in our soul

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

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 last piece was “Fairy Tale

Fairy Tales Can Kiss My Ass (Jorge Arturo - New Orleans, LA)

    You were so certain when you got tucked into bed every night that the fairy tale stories rocking you to sleep would be waiting around the corner; waiting to cradle you in their ancient hands and see you through to your happy ending. And it was a naïve smile that learned to settle on your lips as you watched pieces of that magical story get chiseled away, and reshaped, and often even annihilated by the road put out in front of you. So maybe the mother didn’t survive. Maybe the father was too preoccupied with his own grief to remember the teary-eyed child begging him for for safety.   Maybe you didn’t grow up beautiful. Maybe you didn’t grow up strong. Maybe when you sang songs they were out of pitch, and no forest critters came soaring to your aid. But, if nothing else, the fairy tale promised romance, you assured yourself – a savior atop a white steed who braved through the tragedy and saw someone worth saving on the other side of it. And you were so desperat

The Man Under the Water (TK Craft - New Orleans, LA)

              Sitting at the edge of the small motorboat, Jordan willed himself to take deep slow breaths. Every time he opened his eyes and looked out at the endless water; panic began to overcome him.  Against the vastness of the ocean his small frame felt like almost nothing, this sense only made his fear grow worse. All he could do was stare out at the still surface for what felt like hours trying to gather the strength to jump into the depths.              When he was fifteen, Jordan almost drowned in the ocean. He hadn’t been particularly frightened of the water till that day. In fact, he had no real emotional connection to it at all. He’d taken swimming lessons every summer so when the riptide carried him further out to sea he didn’t panic. He just reoriented himself to the shore and dove down to begin a swim towards land. That’s when he saw him glistening in the depths.             Jordan was proud of himself for sitting on the edge of the boat as long as he did. He spent the