Listening to southern chimes, through palm trees with perfect angular leaves. Driplets of withered misty storms that drizzled the area are left tantalizing you as you engulf this Floridian air inside your lungs capsule. These Driplets of past drizzle “ain’t nothing like that Louisiana wetness bwoy. The water 6 feet high to the ground. Yeah it’s possible”… His descriptions engage me… To think the weather has so many varieties I feel like I opened up a jelly bean jar and took my taste buds on a mission. I continue to put together rhyme schemes in an effort to depict this young mans southerness
This bwoy here from Louisiana, little southern bama in love with only his grandmothers jambalaya
Southern limes… Or overgrown hardened green shells written into clear milk coconuts
Those teeth look made for eating… Some sweet cooking that is
Down there in Louisiana it’s more than Katrina and astonishing weather war hero survivors… It’s a festival every time a pot touches the burner… “yes ma’am I’ll take some crawfish Étouffée”
We share a song. Songs of lift. Songs lifting body builder style. Songs lifting me like a body builder to their weights. Songs building my body to lift. Songs building my body to lift the weight of life’s unclearness away. I’m trying to evacuate the premises of confusion, this time head on with handling their emotional drain, but these songs here are LIFTING
He hummed and sang and twirled with pure masculine poise. Never to be under estimated about his slickness with his feet with quite some swiftness
“seriously y’all gotta use them tools… I’ll even show you”
He was adamant with the assist like a good point knowing his teams strengths easily came from his court vision and ball handling… He adamantly insisted to assist even when we poked our chests out and heads high, some low, that we could handle our new task… For we were set to deliver the extra ordinary experience.
Ferocious tigers…never wreaking havoc we displayed a true teams strength while others were caught up in our beauty we swiftly and cunningly made our way through the crowd unveiling our stripes only to then bare our teeth expressing we were the beautiful beast never to be under estimated. We even made lions run.
He took us back with some old tracks. Scented markers filling up my flailed nostrils reminiscing back to p.s.68 where I played chess with pieces as big as me screaming out check mate for the entire recess to hear gathering around to see my mind worked to disable the king from making moves on what I claimed as MY BOARD. He took us back with some old tracks when African braids were in and everyone rocked three over size braids from 4-6 packs of hair, burnt tips at the edges and girls jealous of your $60 hair do. ….. Heeeeee took us back. He took us back to young money cash money lil Wayne with braids back when Turk was the hottest rapper in the crew before bling bling was bling bling and gold was still in because in NYC you were flashy with Pelle Pelle, Fubu, and Fila maybe one or two gold links… But not in the south they were Juvenile crazy. He took us back… To don’t you dare get bold before your momma because she wouldn’t let you utter your rebuttal And your lip was on fire ass soon to follow picking up just the right branches to tame that… He took us back… Like 25cent gum and food stamps weren’t a card, it was a book, and pickles were still sold individually in jars *crunch crunch* I’m chomping down thinking he took us back…. He took us back like bell bottoms back in style before Jordan’s were the style before Steve Kerr’s short shorts ….like Dennis Rodman gone drag…. Still it wasn’t okay to be gay
He took us back with those throwback thoughts mr batiste…
While I was back tracking my feet were off tapping … Tapping and disgruntling the ground then my ear drums expanded…. “Alligator! Now that’s some good eating”
Share this with me… Correct me if I heard correctly…
They started mentioning swamp tours, cemetery tours, Coon eating, Nutri Rats the size of house guard dogs; all of this new to me.
Willingly I was drawn… More like un-willingly I had subliminally been enthralled with exploring this lifestyle… A little Gatorade because my mind became thirsty for more. This culture was new versus the Rasta stories I was able to offer, still no comparison could be applied here.
His Lakers and Saints were next up to the plate, but to soon be batted away from achieving first base… They both could try again next year. Still this is not to insult my dear friend, but I must consult with my current friend and be a better co-pilot so here I leave this, but yes I have enjoyed meeting this Louisiana Bwoy… You gotta feed the mind with new adventures.
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