Summertime and I Feel Like a Motherless Child by Mahalia Jackson

Red Moon

Last night B.B. was

                                    playing Lucille

                                    at a juke joint

                                    down in the swamp

                                    when two womens

                                    circled each other—

                                    two womens

                                    circled each other, but

                                    B.B. kept playing

                                    his lady Lucille.

                                    That blood-burning

                                    moon was high in the sky

                                    that blood-burning

                                    moon was high

                                    in the sky.

                                    Lightskinned Lucy

                                    drew first blood,

                                    cut Flossie’s arm

                                    Wid a broken

                                    beer bottle.

                                    Flossie didn’t shake

                                    Didn’t waddle,

                                    Flossie didn’t shake

                                    didn’t waddle—

                                    She sliced the air

                                    wid a straight razor

                                    clean and nice &

                                    cut Lucy’s throat

                                    like butter melt

                                    in rice.

Flossie Mae

                                    cut lightskinned Lucy’s

                                    throat

                                    just as plain as day.

                                    Flossie Mae

                                    Said: “You

                                    Messed wid

                                    my man and

                                    now you have to pay.”

                                    Now Lucy is

                                    cold & dead—

                                    Lawd, lawd

                                    Lucy be

                                    cold and dead.  &

                                    Flossie Mae

                                    she  in

                                    Parchman

                                    with the hellhound

                                    sniffin

                                    round her bed.

                                    B.B. played all day

                                    and into the night…

                                    said B.B. played all day

                                    and into the night—

                                    then the world ended

                                    and somebody

                                    turned off the lights.

                                    ©David L. Cooper 2013

Gullah Bible Reading - The Prodigal Son

Henry Giroux on the "School to Prison Pipeline" | BillMoyers.com

Henry Giroux on the "School to Prison Pipeline" | BillMoyers.com

Solo

Day drips into night

Across

The maple-treed canvas.

The humid night fills the still

Canvas

Accompanied by a symphony of cicadas.

I am alone…

Darkness blots out the horizon &

Absorbs the sky and trees

While the cicadas call their mates.

David cooper

U.S. Slavery History: The Rankin House Tour

The Lone Carnivore

Why is eating alone

                                                so noisy and unfullfilling?

                                                The dishes clatter in the kitchen,

                                                the chef shouts orders

                                                while I sit—alone—

                                                at a table

                                                with a sterile

                                                white linen tablecloth.

                                                My silver knife, fork

                                                and spoon stand

                                                at attention

                                                like Beefeaters

                                                at Buckingham Palace.

                                                The young guy

                                                across the room

                                                runs his hand

                                                over his date’s

                                                firm thigh.

                                                “Are you ready to order, sir?”

                                                Asks the pretty, young

                                                waitress.

                                                “Yes, I’ll have

                                                A companion

                                                Ala mode,”

                                                I say with

                                                Great seriousness. “And

                                                A virgin leg for dessert,”

                                                but she puts me

                                                down for the veal medallions

                                                and potatoes au gratin.

                                                And instead of hot

                                                naked sex for dessert,

                                                I will have to settle for

                                                the tiramisu.

Twenty and twenty and one

Love does not last

                                    It’s a fleeting thing

                                    Yesterday’s  joy

                                    Becomes tomorrow’s pain.

                                    Love does not last

                                    It’s bought with a sigh

                                    And Houseman was true

                                    It’s sold for tears and rue

                                    I loved you hard like the frozen land

                                    But you slipped away

                                    And turned our love into quicksand

                                     Now years and tears

                                    I shall remember

                                    How we loved from  bright September

                                    To bleak December—

                                    Love does not last, but

                                    Pain endures.

                                    Love does not last

                                    It’s a fleeting thing

                                    Like green spring

                                    It’s a long, gone

                                    Sometime thing.