I watch these documentaries
About East Of the Mississippi Legends
Like Popcorn Sutten and D Ray White
The sound of Hank III on lonesome guitar
Or perhaps the pleading pull of sad violin
A tear slips as I too remember
When I used to be Wild
Running barefoot through dew drenched grass
I want to breathe that air again
The air of the Wild
They live on through fan or family
Each has lit a fire
Some under copper stills
Others on the heals of mountain dancing shoes
Smoke continues to roll out from under those of us affected
Our eyes searching each rain for more of the same
Boone County is beautiful
Something to write home about
All in one these coal stripped mountains are a larger than life package
That will steal your very breath
Replacing it with back woods romance
Late night campfire stories
Not to mention the heady fragrance of Paw Paw perfume
I grew up nestled between the Appalachia
Lush valley of the Shenandoah
I thought I knew what mountains were
I was wrong.
Me and My Likker by Popcorn Sutten
Having slept a lot yesterday on account of being ill, I was awake at 2 am (GMT) so got to listen to the third US presidential debate between Tweedledum Trump and Tweedledee Clinton.
As an external observer I noted down a couple of things that popped into my head during the debate:-
The American Constitution is not fit for purpose in the modern world.
The NRA are a bunch of sexually inadequate and repressed rednecks who would rather play with their pistols than help safeguard Americans against gun crime or accidental shootings.
Tweedledee should be indicted for, if nothing else, bullshitting.
Tweedledum should have a very tall wall built around him.
(HC) ‘America is great because America is good’. These debates show where America is rotten, at the top.
True, America is being hacked by Russia. But who is so naive or foolish to think that this is not a 2 way street?
It is not for politics OR religion to intrude on the fundamental Human Right for a woman to make her own choices about her health.
Finally. The US election is promoted as a 2 horse race. We, in the rest of the world, have heard NOTHING about the other candidates. Most people outside of the US don’t even know there are other candidates. They should have been on the debate platform to state their policies and given an equal platform. Its undemocratic to cut them out before the voting starts, and leaves the American people ignorant of any alternative viewpoints.
Just a few thoughts from the sickbed of an observer.
See, that’s the problem—
the thing about being a woman
is that you are taught to be
but not how to navigate a world
that will NOT treat you gently.
It didn’t take me long to see
not everyone has the same heart
“Don’t raise your voice.”
my coach told me he could hear me
from where he was standing
and he was feet away.
He meant it as a joke,
I even laughed to hide the hurt
but it was just a reminder of
how my whole life I’ve been told to
lower my voice,
to be quiet.
I won’t apologize any longer for my volume,
I can’t help I feel things strongly
and that I express it through my voice.
“You should probably cover up.”
From a young age,
I was taught my shorts should be
as long as my fingertips.
My shirt should cover my shoulders.
Because you know that’s what
really gets boys GOING!
Legs and fucking shoulder blades,
for God's sake.
As I grew older,
I was taught to be careful what I wore out
otherwise a guy may think of it as
permission to touch me without ever receiving
These worries shouldn’t be
running through my mind.
It should be about me,
what makes ME feel good.
“It’s just her time of the month.”
I’m actually NOT on my period
and even if I was,
that does not give you the permission
to tell you I’m being a “bitch.”
You should probably be more
considerate of women and their feelings,
maybe just give it a try.
I'm not being a bitch,
you're just being insensitive.
“Oh don’t worry about it, he’s just being a boy.”
My discomfort at parties and social events
is always silenced by someone telling me
I shouldn’t be weirded out that guy
who is acting inappropriate towards me.
I shouldn’t be okay with a guy in a bar
thinking just because I’m showing
he has permission to touch me
and then give me a look of seduction.
I’m not a piece of meat,
I’m not your girl,
I’m not anyone to you,
but that shouldn’t mean you don’t
respect me as who I am,
a human being with feelings.
I will unapologetically be the woman I am
I will be gentle but also tough
I will raise my voice
I will wear what makes me feel confident
I will stand up for myself
and you should to.
I am afraid to write about you
The cushioned dark corner I have placed you in
Could suddenly become back lit with soft candle glow
Or blindingly bright mid-summer sun blaze
I became photosensitive to your light years ago
These emotional sunglasses, black out curtains for my vulnerability
Are all that stands between my willpower and the truth of it all
You are delicious. Dangerous.
Completely wrong and perfect for me all in one bad decision
Time passes, memories fade, so I turn back to take another sip
Tip toes become full submersion
Why does it have to be so easy to drown in you?
I use drowning as a way to describe the sensations you evoke
Not as some romantic metaphoric notion
You are Deepness.
The surface only a tease.
You are Suffocation.
Lungs struggling with their intent to breathe.
I know this but yet continue testing these waters
One day, perhaps soon
I will not resurface.
Stones sink heavy in the heart of a sinner
Taking my better judgement with me
Mute gray entwines wistfully around my ankles
Night time ghostly kittens playing with the shadows past
My eyes often see the moon reflecting upon the bright visage of your memory
I still feel burned down.
A ruin that in future breaths will be seen as the discovery of my lifetime
In reality it is the great loss
Static hums between the quiet space connecting brain to ear
In that white noise I make out your voice singing songs of moving on
Understanding has yet to dawn yet I have heeded your wishes
My heart does warm once more
Though parts remain dark, hidden
Blessed with carrying the weight of where you still rest
Yes, it’s a poem no matter who reads it,
worded conclusions one line at a time
Splattering ink on the pages of reason,
whether or not you can sense any rhyme
Searching my dreams for the perfect notation,
picking and choosing what I hope she sees
Gathering leaves of our tomorrow seasons,
falling to earth on the breath of a breeze
Echoes I’ve whispered in words used so often,
carved in the essence a float in my mind
Wandering footsteps through valleys of wishes,
happy endeavors in phrases I find
Till comes the day when she sits here beside me,
sharing the beauty her smile does inspire
And of the views framing skies of forever,
promising visions of windswept desire
I write these verses of heart felt emotions,
all of them true in the fashion I send
For very soon I’ll be rounding the corner,
penning her poetic love once again
Muscles once taunt now lie lax
A smile graces clear skin
Seeing through bright eyes once again
I've missed the feel of smoothness your memory evokes
Reigned in for longer than I would have preferred
Restricted with tear's choke
Clouds crowding me
My feet are beneath me
Soft pads pounding hot pavement
In midsummer celebration
Hearing your song from oceans away
Eases the hold of emotional strangulation
I miss you.
Deep aches that know not the pressure of your touch
Even so they call for you
Missing you without measuring how much