Citizen Cope - Hurricane Waters

6 Year Anniversery

Six Years ago, Hurricane Katrina hit the city of New Orleans, scattering my debris all over.  Years later, sometimes it seems like I am still picking up the pieces from it all.  My life has changed in so many ways, so many good ways...but today, I look back and sigh....

Hurricane Katrina Slide Show with Readings from my Book....

This is a slide show with readings from my book, describing my experience in New Orleans during Hurricane Katrina.  The images are all media images, and some of them are hazy...but my words are clear, bold, and heart wrenching.....

Happy Birthday, Liam.

A God Damned Nine to Five

Standing

On the edge,

Looking down over this precipice,

I see clearly

On each side, 

And the mountains

In front, sparkle

Green

Vibrant

In the sunlight. 

I see the dangers

One one side

I see the dark and alluring light

I see 

What I have always seen

What I have always known

And who I have always been...

Well, not always...

But, that is neither here

Nor there

These days

Because those days

In between,

Those are the ones who really carved me. 

My stories

I tell fervently

To this audience of captive listeners

All the stories I know

Are addled with drugs

Or some other sort of decadance...

And I stand,

Looking over the edge

Of this precipice,

With my darling angel's face reflecting in the sky

And I know,

Which way I chose.

I know which side of the chasm 

I will live on. 

And I look down, 

Into that chasm once more, 

So hot that flames lick my cheeks

And I know

Which way I am going. 

But, then, 

My identity

Fractured. 

I am already broken.

My stories are all broken.

And so, 

Can I put it all

On that fucking shelf?

Put away the piercings, 

And forget about my allure

To tattoos

Forget about the shaved head

And wearing all black. 

But, then...

Damn. 

Who am I?

And where do I go from here?

Can I uphold this image

While living in a two story...

Brick home? 

And where do I go from here?

Cause I wanna provide my son

With the fucking two story brick home!

God damn it!

I want him to have everything...

And that is all that really matters. 

So, I'm looking for a nine to five...

And I am back to writing at night

And the poetry

Does not bleed

As regular

But, it bleeds more fiercely

When it does. 

And I am looking to move

To a gated community...

Where I ain't gotta worry bout my shit...

Yet, I watch the grungy kid

Ride by, dirty,

Like fresh of the rails

Tattoeed, guitar slung

Over his shoulder

Struggling a little 

With the army green bag

That probably holds

The rest of his belongings

And I realize

I part of me wants to stay

A part of me misses

Those days of old

Those days of utter darkness

Sometimes

The sun

Hurts my eyes.

But, I gotta step outside

Earlier and earlier each year

As I get older

And as my little boy gets older.

And I think about his future

And all I want him to have. 

And I realize

That without question...

I gotta move to

A god- damned

Gated community. 

And I gotta get

A god-damned nine to five...

But, if that is what I have to do

To keep this little boy safe...

Then...

I guess I gotta suck it up.

Cause that is what being a momma is all about...

Ain't it?

Poems from the Darkness...

Time passes
And things change,
Sometimes drastically,
And other times,
Only little by little.

But the hole in my heart remains
The hole in my chest
Will always remain
And sometimes, still
It eats away at my soul
Invading my life
With the the darkness
Of the past,

And sometimes, now...
The present looms
Dark and scary,
Just because it is so fucking light
So fucking normal
And so fucking lonely.

I want to scream sometimes.
And I want to warn them all...
But, nobody listens to my advice,
And maybe, in the end...
We are all left stranded
With only our addiction,
And everything we once loved
Is lost.
Maybe, that is the only way we get better.
And maybe that is what keeps others so sick.

Until we manage to pull our head out
Of the muck and mire...
Or until we die.
And I am still here,
And he is still there.
And nothing will ever change that.

Nothing will ever change all of that.
So, I guess I should listen
To that age old advice...
And surrender
The things I cannot change.
But, my heart still holds tight.
Although, I know now...
I will never see his face again.

Simply,
Thinking
About ideas, brewing
Old friends
And old times
As this new confidence
Brings me back to life...

Another freelance article...

Taste of Union: Grand Asia Market

Although I must admit the grind of deadline and a newspaper is not really what I thought writing for a living would be like...it is better than nothing. But, I sent my book to an agent, and I really, really hope that one day...I can just write books!