Lovelorn Poet in New Orleans, LA: I Remember I Love You… But Not Much Else

Muse, Muse... Won't You Dance? by Ben Ledbetter

Muse, Muse… Won’t You Dance? by Ben Ledbetter

It really is a unique city
New Orleans

Where beautiful architecture comes to die
We are thousands of people displaced some returned some never came back
Of course some. . .

I fear like these buildings I am losing my history
My memory is shanty and crumbly these days

I remember major events in my life you of course were the biggest
But even that there is a faded memory

I remember I loved you like really loved you like I’ve never loved anyone else
But I wouldn’t know your face from anyone else in a small crowd

I guess that’s for the better for everyone involved
I just hope someday I develop new memories here that stick a little longer.

her two cents 225px

 

 

 

I am a unique city losing my history
I fear my memory is a faded memory
I remember these days, these buildings,
I remember beautiful architecture, shanty and crumbly
I loved you like I’ve never loved anyone else
I develop, but even there you die displaced
I wouldn’t know your face, thousands of people in a crowd
I guess that’s for the better
I just hope it really is returned
to New Orleans

Lovelorn Poet in New Orleans, LA: Armadillos Are Fun To Chase!!!

Armadillos

Armadillos Are Fun To Chase!!!

like miniature armored deaf blind kangaroos, they have absolutely no idea you are sneaking up on them until you are within arms reach, then…. they pop their pointy heads up from the hole hey were digging, nearly crap their shells when they see you.. and start hopping away, but they are slow, and cant hop straight, like a drunken rabbit, they try to get away, but … they are so pathetic, i just want to hold them and love them forever!!!

I absolutely love trampolines! Like seriously love them, i mean how much fun is it to pretend you are on the moon in your own back yard? The possibilities are endless… I want to go on an adventure where you and I scout out all the trampolines in the neighborhood, and make it a point to jump on all of them, fences, private property dogs, nothing can stop us.

Some people are not fans, but I love candy corn! I want those people to give their unwanted candy corn to me. i will love you forever.

I love docks, i love to sit on them, jump off of them, ride bikes off of them, throw people off them, climb up them because the icky slimy lake grass is wrapping itsself around my legs trying to drown me, i love them at night, when no one else is around, i love making out on them, rawr! they are the best places to star gaze, not like Sylvester Stallone star gaze, but pluto star gaze you know silly….

I love morning breath kisses. Let me make out with you when you look, smell, and feel your absolute worst, and then when you look your best… welll…

I love catching snakes, dont know what it is about them that is so fascinating, but everytime i see one, i drop everything else im doing and try to catch it. and I do mostly, I used to want to work at gatorland, but I went recently, and they seem to be overstaffed already, le sigh.

I love when my sig other calls me unusual pet names, like “penguin butt” “monkey face” “puke breath” and my personal favorite “swamp ass” I love them because they are personal, and non traditional, and … oh… be still my heart….

I love finding money on the sidewalk, or quarters on the road under the toll booth, i mean really, its money, and i found it, without any effort, i wish every job ive ever had was this easy…

I love naked afternoon naps in freshly laundered sheets with unusually high thread counts.

I love playgrounds, but now that im older, i generally have to play on them at night after stink eyed parents take their kids home for the evening.

I love summer camp, working at one, going to them as a kid, there is no place more magical than summer camp.

I love when my sig other nuzzles her face in my neck, when she lays down next to me, when she is scared at the movie theater, when she just wants to show her affection for me, its one fo the most beautiful feelings on the planet.

I fucking love whack-a-mole! talk about a stress release! Course here in florida we had whack-a-gator, but same thing.

I love mailing letters to people with fake stamps on them testing fate to see if the letters will get there, or if the post office will haunt me forever

I love driving with the windows down, my arm out the car, pretending its an airplane, music blasting, me doing my best to sing along with the songs i dont know all the words to, giving concerts for free at every red light.

I love making favorite mix cds, and forgetting what I put on them, so when i put them in my cd player, i am surprised everytime

I love peach pancakes at cracker barrel…. even if i can never finish the entire plate

I’ve shared some things I love in life, what do you love?

 

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I just want to hold them and love them forever
I absolutely love trampolines
I love candy corn
I will love you
I love docks
I love to sit on them
I love them at night
I love making out
I love morning breath kisses
I love catching snakes
I love when my sig other calls
I love them
I love finding money
I love naked afternoon naps
I love playgrounds
I love summer camp
I love when my sig other nuzzles
I fucking love whack-a-mole
I love mailing letters
I love driving
I love making
I love peach pancakes

I love
in life

what do you love?

Lovelorn Poet in New Orleans, LA: Dear Film Industry

Dear Film Industry

Dear Film Industry

Dear Film Industry….

I will miss you. I ran out of money to bribe you to stay, but the truth is, you have been itching to leave me long before I told you I was broke. You have used and abused me for several decades now, and I guess I am just too washed up for you these days.

I know you will have plenty of fresh young eager blood in your next state of choice to take advantage of, and I know they will graciously accept you with open arms just as I did in the 00’s.

You are leaving behind a beautiful partnership of nearly free labor from the hungry to the desperate alike, but I understand your need to make your movies and t.v. shows with not only cheap labor, (many times free labor) but your gold digging lusty desires for incentives have to be fed to keep you in good health. I completely understand.

However, don’t expect me to come chasing after you like so many of my friends are doing. This whole process of following the theological buffalo herds is just as ludicrous as your insatiable pallet. I intend to stay where I am comfortable, move if I feel like it, and live out the rest of my life working full time, making my own movies with my own investments paying my crew wages they can pay bills with.

I was disillusioned with you before, I am parting ways, bidding you adieu, wishing the dreamers luck, and seeing where the next few years of my life take me.

Sincerely….
Louisiana

Her Two Cents

 

 

 

I will miss you
I ran out of money
I told you I was broke
I guess

I am just too washed up for you these days
I know you will have plenty of fresh young eager blood
I know they will graciously accept you with open arms just as
I did in the 00’s

I understand
I completely understand
I intend to stay

I feel like
I was disillusioned with
you before

I am
Sincerely Louisiana

Lovelorn Poet in New Orleans, LA: Keywords

Magnetic Fridge Poetry by Steve A Johnson

Magnetic Fridge Poetry by Steve A Johnson

the funny thing about the “o” ‘s (though it’s a formality)
control in all of its formats
former northern explorers
Amazonians
ugly garments
drive thrus
numerous holes in the head
black dogs
Northern pacific
the hippies
planting portably
my favorite place to retreat
Seattle
global politics
kamakaze fish
Twix v. Reeces v. Whatthefà ‚ £{=à ‚ ¡!ever that was
things that float
the “Robin” issue
determining distance
superhumanism
street signs
DYNOHUGS!

if you thought I loved you then,
I wouldn’t even know what to call it now.

Her Two Cents

Lovelorn Poets Her Two Cents IconKeywords are used to reveal the structure and focus of a writer’s reasoning – a shortcut of sorts that provides a reader with a glimpse or “sneak preview” of what can be found within the body of work. Quite a story, many stories actually, could be generated from our poet’s list. If we write the keywords before we write the story, how might the outcome be different? Hmmm …

Lovelorn Poet in New Orleans, LA: The Tyranny Of Memory

Porch by Rebecca Chatfield

Porch by Rebecca Chatfield

 

Missed Connections in New Orleans

The Tyranny of Memory

You sit in the parlor contemplating a cigarette; rolling it between your index finger and thumb. The cigarette rolling over joint and onto the tips of your fingers. You chew your lower lip in deep concentration. No, you’re not thinking about your next cigarette or whether to change into a new shirt. You’re not thinking about what you’ll cook for dinner or whether it’s time to do your laundry again. Staring through your wall and out into the street and past the bayou and past the trees and over the crest of the small hill…you’re looking back.

You continue to twirl your cigarette in your hand as you slowly stand up and walk onto your porch. The flame of your lighter dances back and forth as you inhale deeply, calmly. You briefly smell camphor and cluck your tongue lightly on the tip of your teeth. The sun is setting behind you while the tyranny of memory strokes your consciousness; tugging and pulling at the bottom of your rib cage. Here you are. Here you are. Here you are.

But what have you done?

Lovelorn Poets Her Two Cents IconHer Two Cents

“But what have you done?” is a question directed to all of us, actually. It starts with the cigarette-rolling, ruminating protagonist in our New Orleans’ poet scene, but it runs so much deeper. I recently saw a tweet that said, “Bad stories are about the writer. Good stories are about all of us.” and while I partially disagreed with it on first reading, this piece of writing brought it back into my mind in a different light. The Tyranny of Memory is a reflection of all of us. Here you are. What have you done?