Ghost of Tsali Comes

Ghost Of Tsali Comes Lost in mist and maze Ghost of Tsali in the corn River water runs Colors of fall alive “Til moon replaces sun That’s when Tsali comes Corn roots cling to bone As he tends the empty weirs This spot that was home Kindling damp to touch No sheltering from the cold Tsali weeps alone Laughing children run Through the maze of corn as fun Tsali seeks them out Revenge, an embrace Wringing breathe away from life Corn maze in moonlight The Truth About Old Jack I’m standing on your grave tonight, Grandpa So you will finally hear the truth about Old Jack Now that Tom Bell’s dead, there’s no reason to hide The truth about the night that Old Jack died Remember how the full moon shown when Tom Bell drove up Wanting to borrow Old Jack to sire him some pups You turned him down, he drove away, seemed to take it well But things were never that simple when dealing with Tom Bell Well the moon is full again tonight here on Friendship Road And I’m guessing it’s full in heaven for you too I know you’re up on Long Mountain trailing Old Jack That’s why I’m finally singing this song of truth to you As Tom Bell drove away that night he looked me in the eye He expected a boy like me to drop my head but I held mine high He raised his fist at me and I shivered, scared to death Cause it was well-known that Tom Bell was mean as hell What Tom did next, I heard from his son Bill Tom took a rat-tailed file to an empty bottle of beer He ground that bottle into a pile of fine deadly glass And he put a dost of it in Old Jack’s food stash Well the moon is full again tonight here on Friendship Road And I’m guessing it’s full in heaven for you too I know you’re up on Long Mountain trailing Old Jack That’s why I’m finally singing this song of truth to you Now I hope that God has sent Tom Bell straight to hell But if God somehow missed him that’s why I’ve come to tell You and Jack best beware as you troll that ridge tonight Tom Bell may be lurking there and I’m sure, even dead, Tom Bells still mean as hell Well the moon is full again tonight here on Friendship Road And I’m guessing it’s full in heaven for you too I know you’re up on Long Mountain trailing Old Jack That’s why I’m finally singing this song of truth to you Chanty For Ahmaud The sunbeams and shadows thread through the Spanish moss As the young men run under the live oak trees It’s 1820 and all is well Cause young black men know where they should be At work for the master crushing shells from the beach Making tabby all day, yes that’s the chore Hang your head low and shuffle your feet Building master’s big house on Satilla’s white shore (they sing) “Ho. Ho. Scrape and pound. Happy at work for the master Ho. Ho. Yes scrape and pound Crushing shells for tabby to build Master’s house.” Now it’s two thousand twenty, see what we’ve lost Young black men forgot their place in this world They dare to run on Satilla’s white shore Without a white man to set their course Sorry to say it had to be done Lesson well-taught with an old shotgun Soon we’ll forget and go back to our ways When young black men knew their place (and they’ll sing) “Ho. Ho. Scrape and pound. Happy at work for master Ho. Ho. Yes I scrape and pound Crushing shells for tabby to build Master’s house.” Death Is Mine In this waking dream I sit by the fake fire Wife and I chat, the birds twitter spring The interstate so close but unheard The children off to school and the pets settled for rest The lazy writer takes his time, sips his coffee Tap tappa keyboard and all is well And the Landing canal goes up and down with the tide I think death must be the same Another day rolling along And isn’t it delightful…death can be whatever I want As Wittgenstein said, “Death is not a human experience.” So I say, “while I am alive I will make death anew each and every day.” Today it is a spring day with tweeting birds and strangely silent transfer trucks Tomorrow death can be a picnic when I was 13 years old Or a cup of coffee While I am alive, death is mine Richard Lawson 111 Landing Rd Brunswick, Ga 31520 9122233177 9125777064 rlawsonsongs1@gmail.com https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCa6SdF1JWe8nYbglCc0PyXA Richard Lawson is a retired music teacher, 61 years old. He lives with his wife, Charlotte, in Brunswick, Ga. They have a daughter, a son, and a grandson. His work has been published in Fine Lines, Georgia Sportsman, New Verse News, Poetry Pea and The Sunflower Poetry Review