Why We Suffer (Louis Toliver Jr

Why We Suffer (Louis Toliver Jr - Swartz, LA)

A boy was waiting for his father to pick him up from school.

Once again.

And once again it seemed his father had forgotten all about the boy.

It was raining this time.

And the boy has been waiting two hours.

Sad.

Soaked.

On the verge of tears.

Hoping and imagining his daddy was a superhero ready to rescue him.

How many times does a little boy’s heart have to break?

Its not easy being daddy’s second choice.

Especially when the first choice is a drop of alcohol.

The boy has run out of faith.

His daddy will never be Superman.

Now when his daddy speaks,

All his promises turn into lies

And they both suffer.

A couple at the end of their marriage has one more hurdle.

Attending a counseling session.

They’ve been waiting eight years to be in sync.

Pour couple.

They are just too exhausted to care.

So, much fighting, not enough listening

They could go at the world together,

But they rather choose to go at it alone

And they both suffer.

Just think.

If we didn’t suffer,

We could build spaceships to new planets

Live the lives we’ve always wanted

Yet, we choose to suffer here on Earth.

Just think.

Instead of taking that long road to perfection.

We rather save gas and take that shortcut to suffering.

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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