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Showing posts from August, 2018

Pieces of Sasha Massey: #4 - Salvation in Music (Sasha Massey - Lafayette, LA)

At the bottom of a roiling ultramarine sea I look up from the floor. My eyes sting from the salt and darkness. Adjust and then adopt the bioluminescent glow I need to navigate. "You will always be other. Alien. A mimic." It echoes and claws at my heart.
My mind.
Ringing alone in the empty vastness of saltwater. How does a mermaid trapped on land grow her sea legs?
A great yawning moan shudders through tectonic plates. A wail escapes from the pit of my chest reaching decibels not associated with me.
My skin. My curves.
She could never. She doesn't look like what is allowed to have words like opulence and ethereal beauty aimed at her.
Rage smothered in silence and poverty. Shut up in my heart and bones!
You would dare speak up? You would dare stand up and not cower when a rich pale one sibilantly hurls a complaint? Are you some sort of reborn Emitt Till?
Bow. Scrape.
Why are you still standing?
No. Not you. There's too much water in your eyes. A body taking up space and …

A Child’s Silent Cry (Joshua Boudreaux - Abbeville, LA)

A child sleeps silently,
In the dead of night.
She's awakened by a touch on her leg,
She dreams are turned into fright.

She's dazed and confused,
Her whole life is about to change.
Her innocence will be stolen,
Her mentality rearranged.

Her abuser says, "you must keep this secret",
She promises never to tell a soul.
The person she trusts with her life,
Now asks her to take off her clothes.

He proceeds to touch her,
Ways thats are only fit for adults.
He manipulates her young mind,
Believing everything is her fault.

She trembles and twitches,
With every stroke of his hand.
She can't process what's happening,
She to young to understand.

He grows bolder and more confident,
Everyday  that passes on.
She holds in her tears,
She fights to remain strong.

Her nights are sleepless,
Every dream is a nightmare.
When day turns into nightfall,
She instinctively becomes scared.

A once lively child,
Now sheltered and depressed.
Her abuser doesn't care,
He has not an oun…

I Am. The Hurricane. (Louis Toliver Jr - Swartz, LA)

Welcome to Nature.
Don’t run. 
Don’t be scared. 
Let me pull you inside my eye. Want to see how my life looks from pilot’s view?
The Eye:
I am the atmosphere's best tool for transporting heat/thermal energy. So, don't be fooled. I don't act with a cold heart. At the core, my energy is focused & calm. I am cyclical and with the right water source, I can strengthen, even when I appear to be weakening.
The sky is clear, and the winds are just light breezes. Though, we are surrounded by the eyewall, a ring of towering thunderstorms where the most severe weather occurs. My direct impact.

Category 1: Family & Friends

I am full of life. Life is like the wind. It’s blows in many directions. I choose to live my life like the wind. So, dear family an…

He Is (Joshua Boudreaux - Abbeville, LA)

He's worth every penny,
He's more than advertised.
This is what you call a man,
He's more than meets the eye.

Life has taught him well,
He leads by example.
He's the light from the flame,
That burns on a candle.

He's the craving that you need,
Whenever you have a sweet tooth.
He's the honesty that you want,
When others fail to speak the truth.

He's a plush teddy bear,
When you're in need of comfort.
He's food for you soul,
Whenever you need loving.

He's the flash on you camera,
Whenever a selfie is in order.
He's the knight on a horse,
Dressed in shiny armor.

He's the air in your lungs,
When you take a deep breath.
He's the lub dub that you hear,
From the beating in you chest.

He's that sensation in your body,
Whenever you feel pleasure.
He's one in a million,
Like finding buried treasure.

He's your everything,
I hope you see it everyday.
Beat the drums and sound the trumpets,
Not just on Father's Day.

Louisiana Boy: Part 1 (Louis Toliver Jr. - Swartz, LA)

Waking up in my bed in Swartz. Gotta check the mail. Don’t need no shorts.  Yes, I can read. Don’t throw no shade. Me and friends, we got it made.
I might not rhyme all the time. 
But I got sense and I got country.
I got soul because I’m Louisiana Boy. 
My parents are at work. Gonna skip school!
Eric’s in Start. Jake’s in Rayville,  then gotta get Susie south in Mangham. We gonna cruise the mall in Monroe.  Got a pair shades, we feel like stars.
Susie’s got a secret, a Black boy in Richwood. Jake’s not too happy ‘bout “kissing a nigger.” But, I don’t care my momma raised me right. I wiped Susie’s tears and said, “Let’s pick him up!”
We picked up Jerome. Jake sat in the back. Susie was happy and Eric was just Eric. “Let’s go to Shreveport!” Eric shouted. “Hell yeah!” we replied, except Jake, you know why.
Oh shit! Just got a call from my cousin in Eunice. Says there trouble a brewing at a festival.  Not sure what to do I’m over 3 hours away!  Better rally the squad and get a plan ...


On My Way Home (Louis Toliver Jr. - Swartz, LA)

I had a rough night. I don’t have a friend nor family in sight. I’m driving home, tank almost empty. I feeling pretty low, but I’m a little high. I come behind an ambulance, a woman is on a stretcher inside. She looks like she is barely holding on. Oxygen mask. Low breathing. Paramedics in panic. My heart cries for her and envies her. Tonight, one of us is going to hell and one of is not. I should have just driven around the ambulance, it was a four-lane. But, I just wanted to cruise behind at speed that pulled along like an umbilical cord. Attached. Because, in that moment me and that woman, both, were on our way home.

The Dirty Verlan (Blake Bumpus - Lafayette, LA)

Long being I challenged Evain Oubaali to a fight and long before airplanes would drop bombs upon the city I wandered around the Catacombs.

You see, the oldest parts of Gévaudan are built
upon stones and bones. A web of unlit tunnels used by fellow thieves and
where other criminals would gather to sell loot
or their bodies
or call gambles
or deal weapons and drugs.
To these Gévaudians
my accent marked me as a dirty Verlan,
a bastard from one of the colonies.
I knew I could be a great painter one day
but I knew I would never be one of them.

My accent would eventually ease a bit
but at the time I would steal their clothes and
dance with them in their masquerades,
saying little and picking out my marks for future burglaries.

The Verge (Faerie - Lafayette, LA)

Closeness A bleeding need Presence A character seed Constance A pondering lead

I want to bring it to the edge, Take it to the last step; I’d like to blow it off the ledge, Push it out far beyond; I need to watch it all go down, Stare as promises collide.

Fearless A taste of iron Groundless A revolting siron Senseless A destined rerun