Challenge:In the Wake of Katrina

[Brinnie Spears]

Just last week we were doin fine...
Then down went the power and the phone line...
Gas prices raised to $499,
Arabian Nightmare...

CNN showed my hometown...
My Grandma's house leveled to the ground,
Abandoned companions never to be found,
Arabian Nightmare.

Ooooooo Ahhhhh, Ohhhhh Eeeeeee, Ohhhhhhhhh....
Arabian Nightmare.
Ooooooo Ahhhhh, Ohhhhh Eeeeeee, Ohhhhhhhhh....
AHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

[Syndra Lynn]

title?

a wicked grin of moon
hangs in a ragged sky
torn by wisps of foggy night
as shredded clouds pass by

i sit upon my rooftop
and i pray to god to die
but as the night delivers dawn
i fear i have survived

i used to have a husband
and i lost my daughter, too
the water carried her away
when the slaughterhouse gale came through

that screaming wind has left now
and in its wake a silence rolls
bigger than the hurricane,
a void, devouring souls

New Orleans is a city
known for jazz and Mardis Gras
but the saxophones are silent
Fat Tuesdays are all gone

some say we can rebuild Her
that Her lights will shine again
but without my man and baby girl
i hope i’m dead by then

 

[quasar]

a wicked grin of moon
hangs in a ragged sky
torn by wisps of foggy night
as shredded clouds pass by

i sit upon my rooftop
and i pray to god to die
but as the night delivers dawn
i fear i have survived

i used to have a husband
and i lost my daughter, too
the water carried her away
when the slaughterhouse gale came through

that screaming wind has left now
and in its wake a silence rolls
bigger than the hurricane,
a void, devouring souls

New Orleans is a city
known for jazz and Mardis Gras
but the saxophones are silent
Fat Tuesdays are all gone

some say we can rebuild Her
that Her lights will shine again
but without my man and baby girl
i hope i’m dead by then

A Marvelous tribute and great description of the devastation. You placed words upon a heart. The wind whispers that our safety still lies with fate, so in poetry our emotions spill to others in photograph phrases, literary paintings of our time.

 

[BooMerengue]

Just last week we were doin fine...
Then down went the power and the phone line...
Gas prices raised to $499,
Arabian Nightmare...

CNN showed my hometown...
My Grandma's house leveled to the ground,
Abandoned companions never to be found,
Arabian Nightmare.

Ooooooo Ahhhhh, Ohhhhh Eeeeeee, Ohhhhhhhhh....
Arabian Nightmare.
Ooooooo Ahhhhh, Ohhhhh Eeeeeee, Ohhhhhhhhh....
AHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Not too shabby, Brinnie! I'd like to hear you sing it! Thanks!

 

[BooMerengue]

Probably because Brinnie
has heart and soul
and thought it was worthy

She done good, didn't she?

 

[tungtied2u]

Flood waters lappin at my window
Wanna head inland
but baby, I dunno
my daughter planted
that tree outside
and that bed back there
shared some mighty good times
with me an my wife
there's a whole lotta life
packed into this house
gonna take more
than the tides
to move me out

gonnna take more
than the tides to push me out

gonna take more than the tides
can't ya hear me shout

 

[LeBroz]

a wicked grin of moon
hangs in a ragged sky
torn by wisps of foggy night
as shredded clouds pass by

i sit upon my rooftop
and i pray to god to die
but as the night delivers dawn
i fear i have survived

i used to have a husband
and i lost my daughter, too
the water carried her away
when the slaughterhouse gale came through

that screaming wind has left now
and in its wake a silence rolls
bigger than the hurricane,
a void, devouring souls

New Orleans is a city
known for jazz and Mardis Gras
but the saxophones are silent
Fat Tuesdays are all gone

some say we can rebuild Her
that Her lights will shine again
but without my man and baby girl
i hope i’m dead by then

Again, I want to thank you Syn, for an excellent write. The Cara Chapman I mention in my pc, is a special woman that rescued me from a painful, loveless marriage ~ and she will forever have a special place in my heart. After reading her story in the Atlanta Journal & Constitution, it gave your contribution even greater impact. Seeing how someone so far removed from the scene can empathize so completely with the incredible suffering being felt on the ground. You've done a terrific job here.

 

[Syndra Lynn]

Again, I want to thank you Syn, for an excellent write. The Cara Chapman I mention in my pc, is a special woman that rescued me from a painful, loveless marriage ~ and she will forever have a special place in my heart. After reading her story in the Atlanta Journal & Constitution, it gave your contribution even greater impact. Seeing how someone so far removed from the scene can empathize so completely with the incredible suffering being felt on the ground. You've done a terrific job here.

my humble thanks

 

[bogusbrig]

The dead's passive bulk
Is discarded waste
Left to rot in the sun

While the cop totes his gun
And hunts a fiend
Pinching beans

 

[bluerains]

The dead's passive bulk
Is discarded waste
Left to rot in the sun

While the cop totes his gun
And hunts a fiend
Pinching beans

human behavior in a nutshell class of learning...I think I like this...

 

[bluerains]

This article really touched me in a deep way

http://www*******journal.com/Commentary/090505Wise/090505wise.html

A God with whom I am not familiar

By Tim Wise
Online Journal Guest Writer


September 5, 2005—This is an open letter to the man sitting behind me
at La Paz the other day, in Nashville, at lunchtime, with the Brooks
Brothers shirt:

You don't know me. But I know you.

I watched you as you held hands with your tablemates at the
restaurant where we both ate this afternoon. I listened as you
prayed, and thanked God for the food you were about to eat, and for
your own safety, several hundred miles away from the unfolding
catastrophe in New Orleans.

You blessed your chimichanga in the name of Jesus Christ, and then
proceeded to spend the better part of your meal—and mine, since I was
too near your table to avoid hearing every word—morally scolding the
people of that devastated city, heaping scorn on them for not heeding
the warnings to leave before disaster struck. Then you attacked them—
all of them, without distinction it seemed—for the behavior of a
relative handful: those who have looted items like guns, or big
screen TVs.

I heard you ask, amid the din of your colleagues "Amens," why it was
that instead of pitching in to help their fellow Americans, the
people of New Orleans instead—again, all of them in your mind—chose
to steal and shoot at relief helicopters.

I watched you wipe salsa from the corners of your mouth, as you
nodded agreement to the statement of one of your friends, sitting to
your right, her hair neatly coiffed, her makeup flawless, her jewelry
sparkling. When you asked, rhetorically, why it was that people were
so much more decent amid the tragedy of 9–11, as compared to the
aftermath of Katrina, she had offered her response, but only after
apologizing for what she admitted was going to sound harsh.

"Well," Buffy explained. "It's probably because in New Orleans, it
seems to be mostly poor people, and you know, they just don't have
the same regard."

She then added that police should shoot the looters, and should have
done so from the beginning, so as to send a message to the rest that
theft would not be tolerated. You, who had just thanked Jesus for
your chips and guacamole, said you agreed. They should be shot.
Praise the Lord.

Your God is one with whom I am not familiar.

Two thoughts.

First, it is a very fortunate thing for you, and likely for me, that
my two young children were with me as I sat there, choking back fish
tacos and my own seething rage, listening to you pontificate about
shit you know nothing about.

Have you ever even been to New Orleans?

And no, by that I don't mean the New Orleans of your company's sales
conference. I don,t mean Emeril's New Orleans, or the New Orleans of
Uptown Mardi Gras parties.

I mean the New Orleans that is buried as if it were Atlantis, in
places like the lower 9th ward: 98 percent black, 40 percent poor,
where bodies are floating down the street, flowing with the water as
it seeks its own level. Have you met the people from that New
Orleans? The New Orleans that is dying as I write this, and as you
order another sweet tea?

I didn't think so.

Your God—the one to whom you prayed today, and likely do before every
meal, because this gesture proves what a good Christian you are—is
one with whom I am not familiar.

Your God is one who you sincerely believe gives a flying fuck about
your lunch. Your God is one who you seem to believe watches over you
and blesses you, and brings good tidings your way, while
simultaneously letting thousands of people watch their homes be
destroyed, and perhaps ten thousand or more die, many of them in the
streets for lack of water or food.

Did you ever stop to think just what a rancid asshole such a God
would have to be, such that he would take care of the likes of you,
while letting babies die in their mother's arms, and old people in
wheelchairs, at the foot of Canal Street?

Your God is one with whom I am not familiar.

But no, it isn't God who's the asshole here, Skip (or Brad, or
Braxton, or whatever your name is).

God doesn't feed you, and it isn't God that kept me from turning
around and beating your lily white privileged ass today either.

God has nothing to do with it.

God doesn't care who wins the Super Bowl.

God doesn't help anyone win an Academy Award.

God didn't get you your last raise, or your SUV.

And if God is even half as tired as I am of having to listen to self-
righteous bastards like you blame the victims of this nightmare for
their fate, then you had best eat slowly from this point forward.

Why didn't they evacuate like they were told?

Are you serious?

There are 100,000 people in that city without cars. Folks who are too
poor to own their own vehicle, and who rely on public transportation
every day. I know this might shock you. They don,t have a Hummer2, or
whatever gas-guzzling piece of crap you either already own or
probably are saving up for.

And no, they didn't just choose not to own a car because the buses
are so gosh-darned efficient and great, as Rush Limbaugh implied
yesterday, and as you likely heard, since you're the kind of person
who hangs on the every word of such bloviating hacks as these.

Why did they loot?

Are you serious?

People are dying, in the streets, on live television. Fathers and
mothers are watching their baby's eyes bulge in their skulls from
dehydration, and you are begrudging them some Goddamned candy bars,
diapers and water?

If anything the poor of New Orleans have exercised restraint.

Maybe you didn't know it, but the people of that city with whom you
likely identify—the wealthy white folks of Uptown—were barely touched
by this storm. Yeah, I guess God was watching over them: protecting
them, and rewarding them for their faith and superior morality. If
the folks downtown who are waiting desperately for their government
to send help—a government whose resources have been stretched thin by
a war that I'm sure you support, because you love freedom and
democracy—were half as crazed as you think, they'd march down St.
Charles Avenue right now and burn every mansion in sight. That they
aren't doing so suggests a decency and compassion for their fellow
man and woman that sadly people like you lack.

Can you even imagine what you would do in their place?

Can you imagine what would happen if it were well-off white folks
stranded like this without buses to get them out, without
nourishment, without hope?

Putting aside the absurdity of the imagery—after all, such folks
always have the means to seek safety, or the money to rebuild, or the
political significance to ensure a much speedier response for their
concerns—can you just imagine?

Can you imagine what would happen if the pampered, overfed corporate
class, which complains about taxes taking a third of their bloated
incomes, had to sit in the hot sun for four, going on five days?
Without a Margarita or hotel swimming pool to comfort them I mean?

Oh, and please, I know. I'm stereotyping you. Imagine that. I've
assumed, based only on your words, what kind of person you are, even
though I suppose I could be wrong. How does that feel Biff? Hurt your
feelings? So sorry. But hey, at least my stereotypes of you aren't
deadly. They won't effect your life one bit, unlike the ones you
carry around with you and display within earshot of people like me,
supposing that no one could possibly disagree.

But I'm not wrong am I Chip? I know you. I see people like you all
the time, in airports, in business suits, on their lunch breaks.
People who will take advantage of any opportunity to ratify and reify
their pre-existing prejudices towards the poor, towards black folks.
You see the same three video loops of the same dozen or so looters on
Fox News and you conclude that poor black people are crazy, immoral,
criminal.

You, or others quite a bit like you, are the ones posting messages on
chat room boards, calling looters sub-human "vermin," "scum,"
or "cockroaches." I heard you use the word "animals" three times
today: you and that woman across from you—what was her name? Skyler?

What was it you said as you scooped the last bite of black beans and
rice into your eager mouth? Like zoo animals? Yes, I think that was
it.

Well, Chuck, it's a free country, and so you certainly have the right
I suppose to continue lecturing the poor, in between checking your
Blackberry and dropping the kids off at soccer practice. If you want
to believe that the poor of New Orleans are immoral and greedy, and
unworthy of support at a time like this—or somehow more in need of
your scolding than whatever donation you might make to a relief fund—
so be it.

But let's leave God out of it, shall we? All of it.

Your God is one with whom I am not familiar, and I'd prefer to keep
it that way.

Tim Wise is the author of two new books: White Like Me: Reflections
on Race from a Privileged Son (Soft Skull Press, 2005), and
Affirmative Action: Racial Preference in Black and White (Routledge:
2005). He lived in New Orleans from 1986–1996. He can be reached at:
timjwise@msn.com



--
"Cowardice asks the question - is it safe? Expediency asks the
question - is it politic? Vanity asks the question - is it popular?
But conscience asks the question - is it right? And there comes a
time when one must take a position that is neither safe, nor politic,
nor popular; but one must take it because it is right." ~Dr. Martin
Luther King, Jr.

"Walk gently, breathe peacefully,laugh hysterically."
~Nelson Mandela

"My aim is to agitate & disturb people. I'm not selling bread, I'm
selling yeast."
~Unamuno, wall grafitti from Paris, May 1968

"I rebel, therefore we exist."
~ Albert Camus

"To think deeply in our culture is to grow angry and to anger others;
and if you cannot tolerate this anger, you are wasting the time you
spend thinking deeply. One of the rewards to deep thought is the hot
glow of anger at discovering a wrong, but if anger is taboo, thought
will starve to death."
~Jules Henry

 

[Syndra Lynn]

http://www*******journal.com/Commentary/090505Wise/090505wise.html

A God with whom I am not familiar

By Tim Wise
Online Journal Guest Writer

Your God is one with whom I am not familiar, and I'd prefer to keep
it that way.

Amen. To every last, well-chosen word.

I certainly am familiar with that god. He is the one who drove me from religion at a very young age, not to return until I found a true path at the tender age of thirty something.

Blessed Be

Syndra

 

[quietpoet]

This article inspired me

Seven Meals

We see you, smug in your Bollés,
barely visible through tinted windows,
cruising down tree lined suburban streets.

We see you, laughing with your friends
about the state of the world,
how most of THEM just don’t get it.

We see you, eating your sushi,
washing it down with Stella Artois,
carefully wiping with white linen.


We see you, listening with Rush,
chortling over some inane comment,
meant to enhance your superior ego.

We see you, taking up most of the road,
in your black, freshly waxed Hummer,
turning up your nose at the 90’s model
Honda, heading to that fast food sweatshop.

We see you, cruising the strip,
checking out the street urchins,
wanting that five dollar blowjob.

We see you, sitting in your perfect pew,
singing the praises of one you think anoints
those who drive Hummers and eat sushi
on the backs of those less fortunate.

We see you, capitalist hypocrite,
and for poetic reasons only,
would like you to know,
that we are only 7 meals from anarchy,
and our memories are long…

 

[wildsweetone]

just a note to poets...

i received a pc on my Katrina poem (that i submitted),

This is the first'Katrina'poem I've read. I'm sure `there are more to come.

perhaps you'd like to share your writing with other Litland readers...?

 

[Brinnie's Ghost]

Bump.

 

[BooMerengue]

(that)

we are only 7 meals from anarchy,
and our memories are long…​

I think this is an absolutely perfect line and I wonder if we could use this in Seattle's Ongoing Challenge- Lift A Line. Think it's a good one, anybody?

 

[SeattleRain]

There are many wonderful poems on this board-- and I figure, whilst you gots them, might as well submit 'em.

I know lit did one of these alreaedy, but thought there might be some interest here.

SUBMISSIONS OPEN for the hurricane relief anthology. Details are posted at
http://www.celaine.com/katrina.html

We will be donating proceeds to relief efforts, and are also asking that
those who are able will:

a) make a donation to a relief effort charity (details on anthology page)

b) purchase one or more copies of the finished book (not required, but we'd
definitely appreciate that...and it is towards relief efforts)

c) help us promote the book by linking it on web sites, etc.


LOOKING FOR TITLE SUGGESTIONS

I am looking for title suggestions for the Katrina Relief Anthology (which
may become a Katrina and Rita relief Anthology by the end of the weekend).

The one I had come up with so far is "Under a Creole Moon". While I like
that, I am not convinced we can't come up with something a little more
fitting, somehow.

Themes are on the anthology page www.celaine.com/katrina.html, but in brief
will include (but not be limited to):


* impressions/personal thoughts on the hurricane(s)
* poverty
* overcoming despair or adversity
* bad things happening to good people
* hope
* the affected region (New Orleans and the Mississippi Delta, etc. -
this may be expanded because of Rita)
* Deep south, memories, poignant vignettes, etc

The collection will be a mixture of the poignant/tragic with strong elements
of hope/promise. Thread for title suggestions is http://*******.com/c42oc
(links to a thread at This So Called Life).

Also, the WOMEN OF THE WEB anthology has been released, and is being
considered for adaptation as a college text for women's studies and creative
writing classes. Thank you to everyone who helped make this collection a
reality. Proceeds from that volume are being donated to a women's shelter in
the Grand Rapids, MI, area. Should sales become high enough to warrant it,
we'll add other shelters to that list, as well.


On a personal note, if anyone will be in the Kensington, Maryland area
tomorrow, you are invited to attend a poetry reading given by The Pedestal
Magazine's JOHN AMEN, local poets CHERYL SNELL and JEN GRESHAM, and myself.
We'd love to see you there.

To all those who have been affected by Katrina, and those who are in the
path of Rita...my heartfelt prayers and best wishes to all of you, your
family, friends and loved ones.

Best wishes,

Christine E. Laine
www.celaine.com

 

[SeattleRain]

(that)

we are only 7 meals from anarchy,
and our memories are long…​

I think this is an absolutely perfect line and I wonder if we could use this in Seattle's Ongoing Challenge- Lift A Line. Think it's a good one, anybody?

ooh that IS a good one!
(eh hem, can you point me to it's author/poem? I have such bad memory.)


THANKS!

 

[BooMerengue]

ooh that IS a good one!
(eh hem, can you point me to it's author/poem? I have such bad memory.)


THANKS!

It's just 6 posts back Sweety. I don't know if QuietPoet wrote it or found it- it doesn't say.

 

[SeattleRain]

It's just 6 posts back Sweety. I don't know if QuietPoet wrote it or found it- it doesn't say.

yes yes yes thanks!

 

[echoes_s]

her pain
Hear me scream
corded muscles taut
tensed, overwrought
opened and sore
constant chord
abandoned what’s taught
consistent misery

gusting within stormy breeze
by the shore
waves crashing
crushing roar
against rocks
shattering

overwhelming haunted sing
with grave energies
a twisted ring
of screeching agonies

tears stream
from pain deep
within
wretched and wrenched
the damned from asleep
only wanting to calm
this raging keep

to my knees
soaking sand
trembling wet
combined with the sea
and its muted misery
that doesn’t feel
but all see and believe

 

[echoes_s]

and for anyone who has PTSD and understands this hell

one minute at a time

keys scattering the floor,
abusive explosion to silence
clashing reclusion,
seclusion

a conclusion of deduced,
reused life-time
of teardrops,
a casual passing hurricane

mixed up in a struggle
of sunshine,
clouds pushing,
juggling of insane
dizzied mind
as eyes fracture
peripheral vision
then quickly
swoop center leap

stomach lurching,
disharmony gusting
instinctual dance,
sidestepping another
mishap

roof tar paper,
ragged and black
glistening teeth
so tiny
they intensely scrape

and you wonder
this time,
stooping slowly to
reclaim your keys
as silence settles once again

a resolution,
absolution of the seconds
which pass
until everything is semi-righted
once again

 

[Syndra Lynn]

submission opportunity

ajcraft@mac.com Seeking submissions for the Listen & Be Heard Poetry chapbook inspired by Hurricanes to benefit Pep Dudenhefer who lost everything in Katrina. Deadline: March 1


---


Sorry for the late notice, but better late...

Most of you have written and polished already, all you need do is submit by e-mail with contact info.

Blessings!

Syn

 

[ajcraft]

Deadline extended

Thanks to all who sent submissions for the Katrina-related benefit chapbook. If you haven't yet sent your poem, you still have time. Deadline extended to 3/31. Please send poems to ajcraft@mac.com. Peace.

 

[Syndra Lynn]

Bump!

Thanks to all who sent submissions for the Katrina-related benefit chapbook. If you haven't yet sent your poem, you still have time. Deadline extended to 3/31. Please send poems to ajcraft@mac.com. Peace.

wink and thanks!