Flippa
When Katrina came calling,
Lady Blues brought some
Miami Hurricane bad news
Green Dolphin Street pain parade
went Mardi Gras wind marching
down to the delta swamp of Nawl ‘Leans
And the lewd crowd’s demonic gust marlin friend,
Flippa,
was cyclone seen: mid-air, pirouette dancing again
Creole zydeco drown sounds
were Bourbon Street booze gurgling
in the sinking French Quarter ...
by decadent, stormy weather order
At the party intersection main,
to the outskirts of perishing parishes,
weeping souls
were being swamped by watery suffering
And Flippa
was Roll Tide reveling
in the Louisiana groaning casket ebb
of the Mississippi moaning funeral flow
Flip of the coin ...
more than a fifty-fifty chance
there ain’t gonna be no smiley rainbow
Flippa fin kick in the loins,
every wet dress and soggy pants
gon have a dry bone, teary lip memento
But don’t worry ‘bout burying
any swamp gator sins
no shovel Swing Low time soon
French Quarter pleasure palaces
got Viva Las Vegas revived,
and is now riotously celebrating
Temptation is on the Skeleton Key hunt again:
Papa Justify and Sista Mamasouku
is chanting charms for some killing voodoo
Fly-by-night mourning fishers flesh baiting,
looking to put more grieving
Red Clay perch on the sacrificial FEMA altar
Shrunken vitality heads on a grill;
sitting bereaved, stone-cold still
in a drunken stupor
Sloshed in saline pain they can’t ignore
Da outlaying Slave Quarters
don’t know how dey gonna git safely thru
One thang’s fer sho’,
Missy and Massa ain’t gon take care of you
Flip of the coin ...
Good versus Evil
is the foreboding, tempest tuna grin
every Flippa-style
broken smile
gotta frown struggle with from within
Copyright © Freddie Robinson Jr. | Year Posted 2018
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