Graveyard
Current mood: cranky
Category: Writing and Poetry

8:12 AM - 20 Comments - 18 Kudos - Add Comment

Garbage Day
Current mood: Grateful
Category: Grateful Writing and Poetry

I was afraid

to step into that river

when first I came upon it

but oh, the water refreshed me so

and oh, the breeze did soothe my soul

that day, that throw out the garbage day

when your love washed all the trash away

7:10 PM - 23 Comments - 22 Kudos - Add Comment

Wetlands
Current mood: alien
Category: alien Writing and Poetry

The map of my brain

has changed

since the storm

parts have been washed

away

and 

strange seed

rode the wave in

settled down

in soft mud

sprouted 

hateful spikes

  killed

the wildlife

©2008 Rhonda Lee Richoux

8:18 PM - 18 Comments - 20 Kudos - Add Comment

Journey to the center of the storm

I hate to keep beating this dead horse, but I gotta do what I gotta do to stay SANE and keep positive.......:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" />

How I felt on August 29, 2005, how I felt during my exile, and how I feel now:

Frozen thoughts hang in the summer air

Enough coldness to cure global warming

Abstract, disconnected, crippling thoughts

Resting heavy on my mind

Festering wounds, deep and convincing

Undermine my ability to survive

Leave me reluctant to hope for better

Faintly, slowly, my heart begins to beat

Echoing its song inside my empty shell

Aching then pounding, waking me in the night

Reality check: only my feet fit these shoes

Light goes on: only my shoes fit this path

Energy comes forth: the soul is stronger than its surroundings

Submission: this burden is mine to bear

Summary: this victory is mine to own!

Rhonda Lee Richoux 2008

Currently listening : BEATLES LONG & WINDING ROAD-COLLECTORS EDITION (DVD/5 DISC)

5:27 PM - 20 Comments - 20 Kudos - Add Comment

invasion of the body snatchers
Category: Writing and Poetry

my cat is staring at me

as though i should tell her

what to do next

life is not the same

and she's forgotten how

to be a cat

i think the invasion of

the body snatchers is

a true story

that takes place in my town

only the names have been changed

to protect the guilty

oh, and they snatched the animals

and insects, too

only they forgot to replace

the cockroaches with the fake ones

i haven't seen a cockroach

since august 28^th, 2005

copyright 2007 rhonda lee richoux

10:25 PM - 32 Comments - 30 Kudos - Add Comment

New Orleans (a poem)
Category: Writing and Poetry

It occurs to me that I am America.
I am talking to myself again. ~ Allen Ginsberg

New Orleans

New Orleans, who do they think you are?

they disrespect the offspring of the queen of the south,

look with disgust at open hands, open mouth

pretend that two years ago you washed out to sea

forget you're a part of America, you are me

New Orleans, who do they think you are?

they forgot how to cook

take a look at the book:

your recipe includes ample parts of

chocolate and vanilla

saffron and tumeric

cumin and cayenne

cinnamon and pepper

you're as complex as

gumbo and jambalaya

hell, you're as simple as

café au lait and

a bowl full of jelly beans

New Orleans, i prefer the taste

of your dirty rice

to the taste of your dirty politics

they look at you and see a rapid decline

but we say

re-define 8/29

you've been resurrected

you've been born again

through the blood, sweat and tears

of your children, who love you,

who refuse to be kidnapped

and made to live

in some gutless, colorless, despondent

vacuum in America that isn't you

but it's hard, my mother,

for my sisters and brothers

when the slum lords get greedy

exploiting the homeless,

devouring the needy

of all colors, creeds and ages

who are going through the stages

of FEMA withdrawal

living in  high rent slums

on low-rent wages

but we'd rather be poor

and with our mother

than rich and anywhere else

the dampness

the decadence

the decay

do not sway me away

from you, my heart and soul

you were a good mother

my ears tuned in to your

own special beat

my skin soft and brown

from your wet summer heat

i will not be moved by the words of the liars

i am moved by our voice as it cries out to me

New Orleans, my creator, my mother

it's you, only you, and none other

copyright 2007 rhonda lee richoux

10:51 AM - 44 Comments - 37 Kudos - Add Comment

trouble
Category: Writing and Poetry

trouble
or, "you just can't save a willing slave"




 
with a natural knack for finding the crack
that his peace of mind fits through
his hands won't hold, they just unfold
dropping things they should grab on to

 
in the course of a day he just pisses away
every moment that could have been used
but the clock's unwound and his mind shuts down
as he sits there, confounded, confused

 
he's got trouble, alright, all the day, all the night
but it doesn't show up on a whim
in his typical style, he just hits speed dial
and trouble comes running to him

 
cash goes up in smoke, so he's always broke
but you just can't burst his bubble
you can't intervene, you can't come between
'cause his credit's good with trouble

 
life is painful, life is tough and trouble finds you quick enough
without disclosing your address every time you're under stress


 
copyright 2007 rhonda lee richoux

9:01 PM - 24 Comments - 20 Kudos - Add Comment

Sleep Eludes
Category: Writing and Poetry

11:20 PM - 35 Comments - 32 Kudos - Add Comment

She Wears Her Wounds Like Mardi Gras Beads
Category: Writing and Poetry

She Wears Her Wounds Like Mardi Gras Beads 
dedicated to the strong women who kept their shit
together after Hurricane Katrina while their families 
were falling apart
 
along the mghtymississippi in new orleans
where the women drip jasmine and 
men can be queens
there's a Saturday's child 
half poet, half wild
her movie's not done, 
but she's wrapped a few scenes
she just dries herself off
when the water recedes
and she wears her wounds like Mardi Gras beads
 
she'll smile through the pain
and dance naked in the rain
she don't give up, 
she'll live up
to her promise to remain
but in the city of the storm
where normal ain't the norm
the blood of her brothers 
leaves a troublesome stain
 
she's been knocked down,
dragged 'round, lost awhile
and then found, 
but dawlins, noo awlins is all that she needs
she's gonna ride that wave
to her white-washed grave
and she'll wear her wounds like Mardi Gras beads
 
she handles all the drama
like a motorcycle mama
thinks every politician
needs a date with the mortician
they can beat her, mistreat her,
but they will not defeat her
she'll never stop talkin'
til their asses start walkin'
chase them back to their tower
give her people the power
 
don't twist her words around,
throw them into the ground
they'll just sprout like seeds
and overtake the weeds
while she wears her wounds like mardi gras beads
 
way down the misissippi in new orleans
among musicians and artists, and killers and queens
just ask any woman if it hurts when she bleeds
she'll say "i wear my wounds like mardi gras beads."
 
Copyright 2007 rhonda lee richoux

Currently listening : In the Right Place By Dr. John Release date: 28 June, 1990

2:06 PM - 26 Comments - 24 Kudos - Add Comment

K-ville
Category: Writing and Poetry

K-ville

Something in the air down here since the storm

Another funeral every week, another ambulance

Screaming down the street but we go on, we go on

Like there's no place else to go, question marks

Attached to every sentence as though there were an

Answer floating in the air, just over there...

If only the question mark could hook it

And our fragile minds could reel it in

And that's the sin of it all, there are no answers

In this place, just the face of desperate drive toward

Unknown destination, and the eerie sensation creeping

Down the spine that our purpose here is tangent,

Noble and divine, and nothing will convince us

That it's not, not e'en the grave so we'll stay here

Play here, pray here until there's nothing left to save

We're just too busy living to worry when we'll die

We're just too busy doing to stop and question why

©2007 Rhonda Lee Richoux

Currently listening : What About Me By Quicksilver Messenger Service Release date: 10 June, 1997

9:14 PM - 22 Comments - 18 Kudos - Add Comment

Response to Rajean's Blog
Category: News and Politics

Well after posting an over-long response in Rajean's BLOG, I decided to just post it in my own blog. I wrote it all down and hit: preview and post. It didn't post. It disappeared. So now I have to write all of again. This really sucks.

The Federal Grant money sent to Louisiana citizens for the purpose of rebuilding the Katrina ravaged parishes was overseen by The Louisiana Recovery Authority, (LRA), and was called "THE LOUISIANA ROAD HOME" program. Here's my experience on the "Road Home".

Back in January, I applied online for the Road Home grant; a week later, we got a phone call for an appointment. The appointment was made for a week after that.  "Hmmm...." I thought, "This is moving pretty quickly!" Now, after 16 months of waiting in line, waiting on the phone, waiting in my tent for a trailer, and waiting for call-backs from the various government agencies, I don't know why that thought even entered my brain. But it did. And I was wrong.

Eddie and I attended our meeting, signed a lot of papers, filled out a lot of forms, gave them copies of a lot of documents, and asked, "We have pictures of our mobile home before and after Katrina, would you like them?"  She said, "No, I have everything I need here!"  She assured us that since our mobile home was tied in by a roof with adjoining, full-length porch and a car port, it would be treated as a home, and the additions would be counted in the square footage.  Sounded good to us.

The following week we got the call that the appraiser would come out. Eddie met with him. He looked at the lot across the street where our mobile home used to be, and where three FEMA trailers now stood. Eddie said, "Our lot used to be as big as three of those lots.  I have pictures of our home before and after Katrina, would you like them?" "No", he said, "That won't be neccessary".  And he took pictures of the tiny FEMA trailer that now stood beside our lovely Magnolia tree and our stand of Bamboo: all that was left of our garden.

A few weeks later, phone call number 1: "I need the measurements of your mobile home again please."  Eddie gets on the phone and talks to him, gives him the dimensions of the home and additions, and asks, "Do you want us to send you pictures?" "No" was the answer; he had what he needed.

A week after that another man called, asking the same questions. I asked him what happened to the answers we gave the other guy, didn't he write them down? Guy number two didn't seem to have an answer. I gave him the dimensions, and asked, "DO YOU WANT PICTURES???"  "NO" he said, that wouldn't be neccessary.

About two months later, we got a letter that said that we should be patient, that they were still verifying our information.

Last week, after leaving the doctor's office with Eddie, whose blood pressure was in the "Silent Killer" range, my phone rang. Eddie was driving, so I answered the phone.

"I need more information on your trailer" said the man.  "Why?" I asked. "Um, because the appraiser seems to have made a mistake." "What kind of mistake?" I asked. "Well, it seems he gave the dimensions of a home, and not a trailer. Your file is in the wrong department; I'll have to send it to the department that handles trailers."

I lost it! I screamed, "DON'T YOU DARE PUT OUR FILE AT THE BOTTOM OF SOME MOUNTAIN OF PAPERWORK IN ANOTHER DEPARTMENT! WE DIDN'T HAVE A PIECE OF SHIT TRAILER, WE HAD A MOBILE HOME, TIED IN WITH A ROOF, A COVERED, FULL LENGTH PORCH AND A CAR PORT!!!"

The man was silent for a moment. I apologized and told him I was upset that it was now JUNE and they're just NOW deciding that that file they've been playing with for five months is in the wrong department??? The man asked....and this is the kicker..."Do you have any photographs of your home that show the roof, porch and carport attached?"

If it wasn't such a tragedy I would have laughed at the travesty. "Yes", I said, "We have photographs."  I emailed him those photographs that evening, and we are still waiting for a response from them.

And then, this week, we hear that the Louisiana Road Home has an almost 5 BILLION DOLLAR deficit. The reason given? "More people applied for the grant than we had expected".  Bullshit! That would fly IF they'd actually given money to as many people as they 'expected' to apply, but they haven't! I personally only know four people who have actually received their grant money.  Others have received their "award letter" telling them how much they will get. But now, they're putting little notes in with those letters saying, "Subject to the availability of funds".

We're screwed. The "road home" is the ROAD TO NOWHERE for us. ~ Rhonda

Please support the WALK THE WALK FOR HABITAT project: our government has failed us. We have only each other to depend upon.

1:11 PM - 26 Comments - 24 Kudos - Add Comment

Walking on Air
Current mood: Discouraged
Category: Discouraged Life

Walking On Air

© 2007 Rhonda Lee Richoux

Currently listening : Walking on Air By King Crimson Release date: 17 October, 1995

9:55 PM - 38 Comments - 34 Kudos - Add Comment