AMNO BLUES - Alabama-Mississippi-New Orleans
by Poet-Songwriter Lewis Colyar
also check this out @ www.BlackState.com

Somebody, somebody please lend me a tear
Please lend me a tear if you have one to spare
For Alabama, Mississippi, and New Orleans
I don’t know when or if I can repay, I need one for all I’ve seen
Mothers crying for their babies, Babies crying for their mothers
People watched all they owned being swept away with the flood waters
Katrina, Katrina such a lovely name to bring so much hurt
I stood upon the rooftop waving for help with my only shirt
That was my Mother, Father, Sister and Brother
You came and swept them away with raging winds and furious waters
Katrina, Katrina you left me with AMNO Blues
Alabama, Mississippi, and New Orleans
You didn’t stick around to hear what they called me on the national news
I thought I was a citizen until you came along but they said I was a refugee
I guess I knew they always harbored those feelings to some degree
They put me in a ball stadium and said it was better than what I had before
I’m on the fifty yard line, at least the outhouse had a door
Katrina, Katrina you left me with AMNO Blues
Alabama, Mississippi and New Orleans

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Democratically

I voted for the other guy,
but the other guy won
Did you know the other guy
and the other guy are one
The other guy shook the other guy’s hand
And said the other guy made a gallant stand
The other guy said thank you, now lets work together
I tell you they’re all birds of the same feather
The other guy ask the other guy to be his running mate
So they can defeat the other guys on that election date
They sometime dress in disguise: Democrat,
Republican, Independent, Left Wing, and
Right Wing But they’re all one in the something
We’re caught in voter’s registration
nevertheless I’m part of the democratically participation
So I Vote

Lewis Colyar
Copyright©8/15/2005-10:50PM
All Rights Reserved

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Chalk Dolls

Carefully outlined with coroner’s chalk, the figures of our sons where they laid
Sometimes face down sprawled on the streets and curbs are the images of their heads
Their name brand clothing four sizes to big are not shown
And for awhile the assailants, will go unknown
We look closely at the supposed replica of our sons
And hope for some resemblance of them but there is none
Gone is the smile they had, even when they attempted to be tough
And the clamor of their voices as children until we shouted enough
The artist didn’t know to draw their eyes that cried
Or the nose that led their feet to the kitchen at the smell of home fries
Nor the ears that held their glasses in place
And the voices that brought congregation to its feet when it sang Amazing Grace
The last remembrance of them are pictures that line our walls
But we can’t find a frame for the chalk dolls

Lewis Colyar
Copyright©9/25/05-10:10PM
All Rights Reserved