Again, again I hear that violin though, truth be told, back then, it was a lyre. Still, like then,  amid the smoke  and the din what is believed by most are the words of a Liar. Believe those Lies and I shall ignore your cries as you ignored my cries about all of the lies and all of the ties that not only bind but kill us. Somewhere out there is a Voice in the air to which all but a few are deaf. So, those that can Hear it is time to reappear and let your Voices  be heard. These fires that will burn will leave Lessons to once again learn while the True will grow ever more. Rise up in the Light remove the darkness from the night, and find Peace in the days in store.

  It’s that time of night again. That late hour of unstoppable thought where one tries their hardest to enter the land of sleep, yet an immovable force blocks their path. Like a bright light that will not seem to go out when one's eyes cannot seem to take anymore of it. When the mind is an endless raceway of cars and the constant race of continues.  The heart lingers on the past. What has happened seems to happen again. It recreates a truth out of half a lie. Appreciating. Wishing. Hoping. Yearning. The desire seems to flow like a river. Pulsing and thriving with an energy that could fuel a thousand galaxies. Yet something so lively is only a shadow of its former glory. The truth seems to lie only in the past, and the lie can only be the future. But is that really the best answer? Surely, there must be a bright light out there. A beacon of hope in the treacherous night. Something that can be clung on to. Something that gives courage. Something that pushes one fu...

 

 

 

Perched on shoulders Tiny arms outstretched in air Waiting The pageantry passing Slowly rolling Blessings bestowed With beads And other trinkets In the royal colors   The societies Both secret and public Crowning kings and queens In masquerade They dine and dance In elegant refinements By invitation only   The carriages Floats adorned in theme Musical and flamboyant Political, satirical, lyrical Set apart by marching bands Baton twirlers and dancers Beauty queens and local jesters   We stand all day On streets below Begging for treasure Amassing  gold, green, and purple Made in China Crying out for recognition For a prized coconut Cup or coin Something special Something only for us   As the last float fades The final marcher rests The batons stop Beads lay  In streets and gutters Hung in trees Tangled in fences  And wires We take to our homes Or to the bars The revelry Of the masses   This is ours It is the religion Of the believer, backslider, an...

Dearest, Tituba, hear my voice; my crafty and powerful love. I come speaking to you in dreams around midnight with warnings from above. Beware of the mysteries and omens that surround you. Be watchful, for old foes await. I can no longer take care of you from the evil that will ensnare you, and the sinister eyes from Hell’s gate. There’s a personal vendetta and the revenge is sweet, stay watchful for the amethyst eyes. A personal score is unfinished and pending, you possess an eternal prize. I can’t disclose who your enemies are and how many, but your foes are from centuries past. Dating back to Barbados and pain and in Salem bound by chains, before you taught Liz Proctor how to magically cast. Seek Marie’s guidance and omnipotent sight to aid you in the battle along the way. Assemble and staff fellow witches of the Dark Craft for perilous danger will greet you at any day. Remember your power, Dearest Tituba, and your strength for our descendants’ lives are at stake. Be watchful an...

 

 

This is your soul trying to connect to you for last the time. We have come to the final crossroad in our life. This is the end. These are our last earthly breaths. From this abuse of yourself, we will both die. You will be a rotting corpse. I will fade away into Darkness. People may mourn your death, at first, but you will be forgotten, while I am left here molested by the hands of Hell. God will cry, “My child didn’t fulfill her purpose.” I’m begging you; don’t do this. It has been a slow ride, a slow descent to suicide.

Step by step, I step     I hear the angels sing    Hope, today, they bring  Flying up with pep  I become Heaven’s rep    Riding along God’s wing Moving forward can be hard     Struggling through today      Living life is not all play The fortune teller draws a card It warns that Fate has no guard     Never let pain get in your way Flying high with my life      I am moving, so I’m living     Heart and heart, I keep giving I will one day meet my afterlife  Everyone’s past contains strife       Let my future be thanksgiving When the steps run out      I will just fly and fly and fly      I leave the past with a goodbye Up on God’s wing, I won’t pout  Going to heaven, I do not doubt     In hell, I was just a passerby  Moving forward, strength will build     Letting go is the hardest part   ...

Louisiana Words  creator, Louis Toliver Jr, is our Featured Writer on  Mots de Louisiane (motsdeouisiane.com)  this February 2023. He introduces the Louisiana Words family to his personal website, LouisToliverJr.com. Louis is re-releasing a collection of his most popular poems and stories from Louisiana Words. He presents  Louisiana Words Crossovers . See two versions of the same poem both on LouisianaWords.com and LouisToliverJr.com!

  Today, I finally came to the acceptance that I’m back in my pattern of hiding from the world. The more and more I do this, the more and more I realize that I’m like a cat or maybe even a turtle. I have to hide to escape from a world that for some reason, I feel like I can’t handle right now. These wounds to my body, my heart, I have to lick them clean. It’s like everything just piles up, and just getting out of bed in the morning is a feat. Let alone, getting out of bed to make coffee. Or responding to a text message. Or trying to focus on reading a book. For some reason, I can’t do any of these things lately and I’m just not sure why. I have so many things that I want to do in the world. People I want to meet. Places I want to see. Nobel Peace Prizes to win. But then, the shackle that binds me to a room made of only windows reminds me that something is holding me back. Every now and then, I’m able to shatter that glass and walk through it. I’m able to see the world for ...

 

You want me to go mad a bit? To scream, tear out my hair a bit ? You  know  I' ve  been asking why of it. Why never came into it.   Yo u were you and I was me,   W e  played  let's pretend,  now I see . There  was I dying slow, I could never tell you no. Here ,   were you? L iving fast W ould   you please  respond at last?   I  must  know better than to ask. Our fates are sealed  T he die is cast. Le  jeu   est   fait ,   we sa id  in French. Blood spills,  the floor ,  drenched   “Who was  it ?” one day they'll ask. "That old wench?"  Will you laugh before the inevitable  reply ? " So me old  fag  who got me high . "   I  c ould s hriek  “you broke my heart!” W h en each of us h ad our part. Fact is,  the stupid thing gave out  long before  our  first , fatal  shout.   So take these words,...

 

 

  i fell to earth slowly at first then gaining speed shooting like a rocket through the atmosphere flames licked at my ankles, curled through my hair friction increased cloud particles clung to me (this was before we had begun to pollute Our Mother) i landed with what sounded like a thunderclap point of entry befuddled, obscured by rain and showers of earth i unfolded myself stretched my arms towards the heavens stepped out of my crater and beheld Her Glorious Majesty

Oh my little town Might soon burn down All because our Mayor Is a shyster AND a clown Oh my little town Always seeking world renown Gets its wish, starts to cry Screaming screaming "WHY WHY WHY" Look at me sitting here While they go running to and fro Look at me smiling so Saying clearly "I told you so"

 

 

 

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