Throw Myself into the Night (Le Voir N. Lewis

Throw Myself into the Night (Le Voir N. Lewis - New Orleans, LA)

I am going to throw myself into the night just to see what happens.

I am going take a chance, be adventurous, wild, and spontaneous

because when you live in New Orleans and summer is upon us,

you cannot help but be ready to fuck shit up and partake in the miscellaneous.

Not an itinerary, nor a plan for tonight will ever cross my mind.

No second thoughts or hesitations to waste my precious time.

I’m putting on some comfortable threads because this summer heat is far from divine.

I am going to throw myself into the night and see what adventures I get into this time.

Who needs a full moon to start your transformation, your metamorphosis to be wild,

when you have the New Orleans summer vibes in affect, it isyour chance to be more than mild.

Have fun, have a ball! Hell, have two if it makes you smile.

I am going to throw myself into the night and give a new meaning to fun restyled.

Any which way the wind blows, if there is fun to be had.

No Debbie Downers or party poopers, or anyone who makes this night sad,

Only people living in the moment, seizing the day with good energies that make us glad.

Only if life were comprised of a community of positive energies, we would have our own island or pad.

I live my life structured enough, organized, looking for bosses to approve.

A little spontaneity never hurt anyone when you are ready to make sudden moves.

Just be wise and always careful and live your life no matter who disapproves.

Just throw yourself into the night, make memories, and get into the groove.

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 ...

The Peculiar New Room (Nick Perere - Baton Rouge, LA)

A peculiar fourth room has appeared in my three bedroom abode. High ceilings Higher than any ceiling in the house Perfectly pristine whitewashed gallery walls The largest window one can imagine Stretching from floor to ceiling Wide as an ocean’s horizon Revealing the lushest greenery and the bluest skies. I am meant to show masterpieces here. But in one of the corners o f the perfectly pristine whitewashed gallery walls i s an ugly patch of dirt. Dirt darker than charred coal. And the dirt is crawling And multiplying. With their spindly legs and dangly antennae Vermin covered in filth and willingly ready to spread their germs Scuffing the perfectly pristine whitewashed gallery walls. But I have to move on, I have a gallery to exhibit. Smile and act as if nothing is wrong. Come. Enjoy the show. Enjoy the artwork hanging Upon the perfectly pristine whitewashed gallery walls.

Search This Blog