NOTE: As a native of south Louisiana, I will never forget how Hurricane Katrina impacted my home state. On the sixth anniversary of the deadly storm’s landfall, I summed up my thoughts in haiku form.
Ugly Katrina/I wish we had never met/Your horror lingers
One Dead In Attic/From Danzinger to the Dome/Millions of lives changed
It’s been six years/New Orleans spirit lives on/No thanks to FEMA
Were any lessons learned?/Will next time be different?/Make levees not war
In honor (or dishonor) of Nancy Grace’s now infamous “The devil is dancing” quip about the Casey Anthony not guilty verdict, I penned this mini-rock opera, “The devil is dancin’.” I’d imagine the music for it is something like Charlie Daniels torching his fiddle till his fingers bleed or the slinkiest, sweatiest disco beat you’ve ever heard. Yeah, it could go in a number of ways.
Nancy Grace, I know you’re somewhere this morning putting on your daily scowl. You’re probably practicing your shouting in the mirror. Something’s working you into a fury. And that’s all well and good. But just take a moment to calm down. I think you’ll enjoy this piece.
After all, the devil is dancin':
One of these nights I’ll write a full poem. These stanzas come from two distinctly places. I’ve named the first “And Again Tomorrow.” The B-side is “Sears Tower 2009.”
Stay restless, first in flight, questioning why
Look above, take stock, steady for the climb
Better than yester, that’s all I aspire
And again tomorrow, the journey so divine
One hundred stories in the sky
Heights for which solace is hard to find
No more fireworks, only a gusher inside
Waiting to blow at an inopportune time
I had R. Kelly’s “Trapped In The Closet” stuck in my head last night while reading news about Rep. Anthony Weiner. Ridiculous, I know. Weiner admitted Monday he posted a picture on Twitter of himself wearing nothing but an underwear-masked erection. He originally said hackers posted the photo — a bold-faced lie. He has since admitted to having sexually explicit online chats with six women. This Weiner is out of control.
And so, inspired by Weiner and R. Kelly, a man known to rock a sexual scandal himself, here is “Capitol Hill Ecstasy.” I can’t wait to record it on the first ever Cajun Tomato ep. Maybe my friend Jordy Pujol will drop a guest verse referencing his darling, Ron Paul.
Guys remember: You can always call the Penis Photo Prevention Hotline, or 3P Hotline, if you’re feeling the urge to send lewd photos to the object of your lust.
Here are a few non-sponsored, carefully constructed words:
Grandeur, it’s fool’s gold
Don’t let yourself be taken
Your heart is a treasure
Don’t be standard, be something greater
Love lover, know no exceptions
Tell no lies, make no concessions
Lover love, know no exceptions
Tell no lies, make no concessions
PROGRAMMING NOTE: My drink of choice while writing tonight was a 16 oz. mocha, which mysteriously made my tongue taste like cigarettes. The infinitely danceable sounds of LCD Soundsystem, one of my generation’s great bands, provided background music.
Some might interpret this as taking a political side or being anti-America. That’s wrong. This is a call for honesty from politicians, particularly the president, to represent Americans’ best interests. It’s also a reminder that skepticism is healthy.
Lastly, the inspiration for this piece came from a Rolling Stone article titled “The Kill Team” about American soldiers murdering Afghani civilians for sport. The article outraged me. I highly recommend you read it over at www.rollingstone.com.
Here is “The Bombs Still Drop.” Hope it makes you think. Peace!
NOTE: While writing this brief poem, which is loosely based on my feelings of war fatigue, I jammed out to some new Fleet Foxes, Kurt Vile, and Toro Y Moi. It’s important to have good music pumping in your ears when you’re writing.
Father Time, when will you rest
It’s 3 a.m. and everyone’s gone to bed
I know the world’s atrocities keep you awake
But tired eyes won’t raise the dead
I received my bill for my four-day hospital stay in the mail today. Needless to say, it was a bloodbath. Lots of zeroes behind the initial number. All because I don’t have healthcare.
I never went without healthcare before I moved to Portland this December. Living without insurance has been eye opening, particularly since I have had a serious illness since moving.
Part of me is angry about the cost of the hospital bill. I’m a realist, though. I knew it would be a hefty cost. I empathize with others who are unemployed and without insurance whatever their circumstances. It’s not a good situation to be in.
Tonight, while thinking about my bill and my fellow uninsured Americans, I wrote a poem, a rap, a whatever you want to call it, about living in America without health insurance. Lupe Fiasco’s new track “Never Forget You” featuring John Legend served as my background music.
Click on the link below to read “Barter With The Devil (If You Must).” Rock steady!