Tuesday, January 11, 2011

New Orleans, The Complete Diaries

Part 1, April 2002

gutter plants turned to barbed wire,
street magicians turned magistrates,
tarot readers turned palm-cheaters,
glad handers turned pan handlers,
the freaks turn up with the sun...
so turn down their attention--
this evening, they'll be back with friends;
oh, and did I mention?
role problems here are an easy fix...
men turn into women,
and the tourists turn the tricks...

The New Orleans Diaries

enough to make the heavens cry,
the graves were built to touch the sky.
Sundays, locals call it home;
spirits meet at SuperDome.
the undead, just a block away,
alive in a Tennessee Williams play,
this town with a heart of glass
and not much more than tits and ass.

In Norleans there's a place called France,
a hole where naked creatures prance,
and the drunk go hunting for romance,
while the bass violinist is in a trance.
i am exercising my youthful right
to lose tomorrow in the night.
the countess emerges from the fog
"Don't you eat them Lucky Dogs!"

Bourbon street was but a dream;
Places are never what they seem.
Faces hide under the hood of a card;
memories of Las Vegas Boulevard.
takes more than tricks to impress me,
takes more than sex to undress me,
takes more than binions, banjos, boobs
but, holy shit, that statue moves!

Lou--Z-ana, say it like that!
so hard to remember where I'm at...
went looking for Louie
and got lost with Lestaat.
haunted streets but I didn't fret;
never did see that city sweat...
so that's my relief
and my trip's regret.

Part 2
October 2005

40 some months later, more than sweat;
my old perceptions soaking wet.
Mother Nature in all her rapture,
a tragedy she manufactured;
A city more than sad and fractured...

So here's 2 mil for your broken will--
some folks will surely help rebuild,
let's get every city pothole filled,
restore the dreams the weather killed;
up north, we just can't stand the guilt.

But I didn't give a fucking penny--
these days i think my thoughts are plenty.
And stick these prayers up your ass,
our God's asleep at midnight mass;
this fucking moment will not pass.

The war outside ain't New Orleans--
we stay the course by any means,
the dead soldiers just in their teens,
the privates cleaning the latrines...
my wife fights to fit in Lucky jeans.

And the media can't ever lose...
they have machines to make the news--
just flip the switch you'd like to use;
our channel likes to shape your views
then check our website for the clues.

Force feeding ain't a passion play.
It's way of life in S of A...
no, our government wasn't late
Louisiana is their favorite state
and black folks sure aren't second rate
and Bush is never on vacation
and kids need to learn about creation...
How could man evolve from ape?
That's just liberal sour grapes!
Didn't you hear the Ken Star tapes?
Clinton led us straight to hell
because he kissed and wouldn't tell.
King George came in and made things right,
Told us it was day at night,
Guaranteed we'd win the fight
Against our hidden enemies...
So find those WMDs!
And Photo-Op evacuees!-
muttering those c'est la vies.
And those Supreme Court nominees
handpicked to steal our liberties.

But week to week, my life's the same.
The daily grind, the nightly game.
I'll still watch my football sundays,
curse my 9 to 5 on mondays
Tuesdays, I watch CNN...
must they show it again and again?
Wednesday, it won't ever end....
Hey isn't that Sean fucking Penn?
Where are all his superfriends?
Thursday, the whole country's gawking--
that bitch Katrina won't stop talking...
So Friday night I fucked her sister;
first name Rita, last name Twister.
What's the point, I can't resist her?
She'll drop in and I'll 2-fist her.
It's Saturday already, mister....

That's how paranoia gets created...
small time stories so inflated
you can't escape the overstated;
it's relevant until it's dated .
I get so goddamn irritated...
but I remember 2002...
New Orleans and the color blue;
my memory is me and you
alive and well in our hotel room.
French Quarter and all, in bloom
Before the city met it's doom.

Part 3
December 2007

Hey now Louise, it's 2008
The Year of the Tiger v The Buckeye State
I'd rather hate what I love than love what I hate
I'd rather sneak in the stadium than cry at the gate
But Ana said "Sam, there's too much on your plate"
The world got some new wheels, but you better wait
And football games always come down to fate
So I blew my money on a stripper named Kate
I liked the way her body leans
Reminds me of New Orleans

Billy Joel, sorry, I've done it again
Stole a lyric from you about innocent men
Well I've hated the message since I was just ten
You sound like a softie with your piano and pen
But you're more to the point and I'm everything zen
And I need a nice melody now and then
For roasting a town that never knew when
To remove its big head from the lion's den
Jazz and madmen, clowns, marines
Reminds me of New Orleans

So what did we do when the lion bit?
And nobody wanted to own up to the hit?
Sent down a republican first aid kit
But she walks like a widow 'coz the storm pierced her clit
And I love to label, who cares if they fit?
My imagination is a piece of shit
Now you might call me a hypocrite
'Coz I'm more used to Bush than I'd like to admit
We're hitting a wall while he's hitting the greens
Reminds me of New Orleans

So who the fuck should I vote for?
Well raise your hand now if you'll end this war
Forget about Dean, Kucinich and Gore
And Hillary C, she flopped once more
I need a savior who don't act like a whore
I need a favor, fuck the sick and the poor
Midlife's a crisis, being 30's a bore
So please shake me down to my fucking core
Like Fergie in those movie scenes
Reminds me of New Orleans

In my car, every road leads to addiction
Fantasy life in a world of non-fiction
Louise, she suffers from every affliction
Ana, she buffers the bullshit depiction
The Big Easy, now just a giant eviction
You leave when it's over and don't feel the friction
It's really the ultimate contradiction
Before you take off, we need a prediction
The Bucks in the twenties, the Tigs in the teens
Reminds me of New Orleans

Part 4
December 2010

9 years, honey, where'd they go?
A decade's worth of boobs and blow
The Trip, a 'Cane, the Game, Redemption
You cant prevent the same pre-emption
Shareholders got shares to hold
Insiders, outside in the cold
Shareholders had shares to sell
Spirits rose, the market fell
New Orleans, get on your boots
Fly those golden parachutes
Saints are black when On the Road
Kerouac paid back what we owed
Let me steal the books you brought
Let me heal the 'sease you caught
Let me deal with all your flaws
Let me feel your big black bras

Driving down that battered coast
AKA, gulf with the ghost
Stop obsessing about '05
Dump your trash and then you'll thrive
Take the homeless off the streets
Cameras rolling, Mayor cheats
Cameras stop, the limo stalls
Crack House at the Taj Mahal's
"It's all good," he says, "so be it"
Knows the public'll never see it
"Orleans saved, now I indulge
You say boner, I say bulge!"
Will we ever break this spell?
Yes! It's the N Fucking L!
New Orleans turned one last trick
Payton calls an onside kick

Demons gone with Peyton's pick.