Long Rednecks Poems
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VII.
Fisher was new to the Hollywood scene,
but he’d had an easy time getting it,
he’d written a screenplay set in Georgia
of rednecks who can’t handle strong women.
It had lots of action, to draw the crowds,
it was pro-feminist, empowering,
many studios had bid on the script,
and said,”Friend, you’re going to do great things.”
He shook the right hands, slept with the right people,
then came production, a bit of a chore,
but when it was done everyone said that
it was a film to be praised and adored.
But when the trailer hit the internet
trouble began, all the comments poked fun:
Ninety pound girl fighting a full-grown man?
Only Hollywood could be this damn dumb!
Fisher took to his social media
to defend the movie that he had made,
called out the people as sexist scumbags,
he would not let them just pump out their ‘hate.’
Yet when the movie finally premiered,
to the bottom of the ranks did it go,
it seems people don’t like being preached at,
didn’t buy tiny girls as action heroes.
The calls stopped coming, exec turned their heads,
he drank his anger until half deranged,
why wouldn’t people watch what was ‘good for them?’
Why couldn’t he make human nature change?
Schlerotic schlemiel schleps...
Into lonely senescence -
three plus decades already elapsed
trepidation, hesitation unbearably
tugging, shouldering,
remonstrating accumulation
of "baggage" thumb
of right hand thrust out
silently raving, quaking
cursing ultimatum parents
(soffit to fascia in)
saw fit to fashion
and hammer home
red hot poker rage
their singular male offspring
middle child of two sisters,
who long since vacated premises
when both young naifs
prior to attaining age of consent
deploring bing holed up
at 324 Level Road redoubt
built as summer house
remote from fracas of urban bedlam
still fifty years since Leipers
bon voyage into netherland
father and mother
imposed swiftly tailored
harried styled tough love
translated meant absolute zero value
toward offspring they begot,
and made quite clear loathing
heaped upon sundered fountainhead
good for nothing son of a...,
he whittled away precious time
reading avast among trove of material
crowdsourcing numerous bookshelves
mostly to impress intellectual visitors,
when in truth middle aged couple
thinly veiled country bumpkins,
donned with "FAKE" literacy
stereotypical "rednecks,"
inexplicably begot wunderkind
agog with inhaling literature
in tandem with liberal
magazines and newspapers
oft times whiled away countless hours
sunup to sundown
sequestered most remote nook
within local library
few miles walk along country road
served as self taught schooling
since parochial educated regimen
habitually rapped knuckles
courtesy whiplike hickory stick
if pupil evinced slightest
distraction, whence schoolmaster
detected lack of attention
as crotchety curmudgeon
blankly droned monotonously
dull jabbering subjected
stone faced classmates
into instant soporific state
futilely struggling to keep eyelids
slamming shut tight
including yours truly,
who when suddenly awake
realized quite a vivid dream!
a narrative with alliteration
Royal radio reviews the Rainbow Raffle Rally planned to raise rubles
for the rugged racetrack recently recommended ‘round Rybinsk Reservoir.
One rich ruler, who runs the Ragweed Railway resists with red-ribbon resolve.
His rogue reaction to a ring of rubber stamp rednecks
left realistic Regnum reporters in a rush to rock their readers
regarding the rift between the Ragweed Roadblock and the Rainbow Raffle.
Rather like a rabbit racing a rhino, such rivalry is not reasonable.
Rally is off the radar - racetrack has been royally rejected!
February 10, 2020
Brian Strand, host
STRAND Select J, contest
They went mudd’n down at the water hole
Getting their trucks filthy was the goal
Grandma said they needed to bless her soul
They baptized that old lady in the water hole
Everyone has a beard down in the holler
Because haircuts cost more than a dollar
The best rednecks live in squaller
My pig is Sophie, you may call her.
We ride our bikes off our roofs in Arkansas
We do not put on airs or say “lah dee dah”
We are the hillbillies, we have our own chainsaw
Come see us some time, you can dance with pa
We have bonfires and weenie roasts
We make smores, and peanut butter toast
If you like travel trailers, I will be your host.
No one will put on airs, be snotty or boast.
Cottonmouth, dirty south
Mustard biscuits, shut my mouth
Down the Gulf of Mexico
Running down Casino Row
Through the miles of slot machines
Making music, chasing dreams
How far I'm going, I don't know
Ain't time to go I'm on a roll
Mississippi, Mississippi bound
Just a little place I call my home
I'm cornhood, wildwood, backwoods
Mississippi bound, y'all come on down
I can sing and play guitar
I sell myself from bar to bar
New songs, ancient rythyms
Pretty girls, go and get ?em
Young bucks, rap cats
Rednecks and white trash
Blackwater, summer breeze
Kiss the ground, I'm on my knees
Mississippi, Mississippi bound
Just a little place I call my home
I'm cornhood, wildwood, backwoods
Mississippi bound, y'all come on down
Yazoo Bayou
I tell you a thing or two
Tripping on a starfish
Someone boiling crawfish
Shrimp boats, break of day
Shining on Biloxi Bay
There is no concept of time
A Mississippi state of mind
Mississippi, Mississippi bound
Just a little place I call my home
I'm cornhood, wildwood, backwoods
Mississippi bound, y'all come on down
Mississippi bound, y'all come on down
Mississippi bound, y'all come on down
I'll see you around
©2005.
We were hillbillies when we lived in the north
But now that we are Floridians, we have to come forth
Admit that we love wearing pajamas and nighties all day
When I go outside, my attire scares the alligators away
Now we are known as beach bums, which is okay by me.
I can sit on a beach and eat crackers, and drink lemon tea
Not only in the summer, but in the winter and fall too.
I love living here with the rednecks, Trump true.
I like my mumu, can wear it outside to garden or water ski.
Since I am in my seventies, no one says anything to me.
I became invisible a few years ago thanks to my age.
Wow! We had two inches of water according to this little gauge.
I have new friends now, we play bridge and use walkers too.
Eat all the rich foods, some of us weigh two hundred and two.
Our waistbands are elastic, there are crocs on our feet.
Come over for some goodies the next time you want to eat.
What if we make it in time
Took my eldest brother of heart
I was age eight
Routing me through different foster homes
I could turn to nothing other than art
Script my life to a page, my newly designed faceplate
Registered me in school with hillbillies
Rednecks lurking behind oak trees
plotting to noose and conceal me
Troubles away from home
It’s all my fault, I’ll withstand the punishment
Take a recess, filter out the problems
Let you know how much fun it’s been
Street thugs want to beat; I’m no ones fool to beat
Pressure me and in my possession I acquire the tools to beef
As Lustful individuals we relaxed in our own deceit
Situations come to a stand still
I take shelter beneath the neighboring bridge
I’m grown and on my feet
Who could criticize my passion for success?
Here lately it’s become a fashion to stress
In these heated hours of liaison with we nest
I believe in me, myself, and nothing else
I’m out late in the night
I’ve got to get the rent
Trying to lead of life toward luxury
Another flaw in torment I resent
Plus I got issues with the police
The mayor and the presiding judges
So many scoundrels to enlighten my grudge
No one to stand beside this perched individual
Therefore I believe me, only myself
Wishing hard times upon me
Brush them off, time to study for my clinicals
The dirt shoveled, equals the nonsense I’ve been dealt
Put an out cast to ease
A touch somewhat seldom felt
Trailing my steps,
As I expire, you may have what’s left
And who knows, we might actually make in time
Peering through my blackened mirror in scenes
I witness the incessant struggles of individuals in spleen
Mortar over my nemesis as seen
The tower I build in an effortless climb
A have-not in time, this leprosy of mine
But you and I we have history in reply
Rest your thoughts next to this Charismatic character
On whom else could you simply rely?
The love letters I receive in kind
My colleague wants to know dearly
If you have a friend in mind
Paper makes misery worth living
Mother says her rapper insist I owe in him thanks in given
The humor in my latest statement
“By my ambitions only I’m driven”
I believe in me, myself and nothing else
But who knows, we might actually make it in time
Rednecks and hillbillies having a war.
They fought and they spit and both were so sore.
It got bloody. There was much ugly gore.
We scratched and we bit just like the folk lore.
Cousin found gold and announced it to four.
Hatfield who ran off to find their own ore.
I scratched him and slugged him, this cousin so poor.
The rednecks ran off, as we hillbillies broke down their door.
So if you think the feud is forever over, and no more,
Remember we McCoys are as ignorant as we are poor.
We will be feud’n and fight’n, until we are sore
Or we chase that other family, for squabbles we adore.
Carmena was born in Bolivia
but left that place at seventeen,
after three years of waiting for the chance
to live out an American dream.
When her folks finally got their green cards
they moved up into old Santa Fe,
Carmena finished out her high school years
picking up on all American ways.
She’d known some English before she had come,
but her vocab expanded real quick,
immersed in the tongue every day
her accent softened and became less thick.
This helped a lot in her father’s new shop,
he bought a gas station in a franchise,
Carmena waited on all walks of life,
and the experience opened her eyes.
She’d chat with truckers and travelers
from all over the fifty great states,
lefty Californians, southern good-ol’ boys,
northern Yankees and Texans hauling steaks.
Mid-westerners who were so crazy nice,
New Yorkers who always sounded pissed off,
good-natured rednecks looking for more beer,
even some Yoopers with their funny talk.
Learned more of her new home on that roadside
then she did in any public school,
what would divide and what would unite,
but the one thing that really stuck her as cool
was that Americans, the better ones,
made everything subservient to choice.
Culture and skin, ethnicity and faith,
you had the freedom to ignore and avoid.
These facts struck her as how things should be,
had not every person a claim to these rights?
Here force of law was meant to make free
people to be the driving force in their lives.
And best of all, she heard all sides of things,
good for thought, both the grease and gourmet,
when seven years passed, and she took that oath,
she became American in so many ways.
But then something happened she didn’t expect,
it came about in an election year,
talking with her friend Sue about the vote
she was greeted with anger and fear.
Carmena was confused,"Why the harsh look?
I was just sharing the thoughts on my mind.
I believe in gun rights, and low taxes,
My father’s shop has been having a time—”
Sue interrupted,”Do you hate yourself?!
Don’t you know that you’re a Hispanic?
You’re betraying your own kind, voting this way,
colored people should vote Democratic!”
Carmena was stunned, struggled to reply,
“But I see nothing good in their beliefs.”
Sue just fumed,”You’re a damn race-traitor,
or brain-washed by fascist enemies!”
CONCLUDES IN PART II
Could never live in a city,
nothing about it feels right,
so cramped, crowded, and quite dirty,
hard angles always in sight.
The stress I see in the faces,
pricey closets for a home,
everything near someone else’s,
no land they can call their own.
Moving like rats in a subway,
nothing but concrete to walk,
all this to live where ‘things happen,’
at least that’s how many talk.
So few of them will have children,
the cost most just can’t afford,
and most went there for the fast life,
gives nothing but demands more.
The morals always declining,
any in they’ll tolerate,
cling to it amidst the chaos,
and die still claiming it’s great.
The crimes of degraded people,
city hall doing nothing,
don’t care to arrest criminals
when they need them all voting.
It hollows out the whole city,
great buildings rotting away,
the people not getting better,
the whole place endlessly fades.
And yet they say we should live there,
believe they top all the rest,
better than all of those ‘rednecks,’
see other folk as much less.
No, I can’t live in a city,
the whole place is insane,
no job, museum, or night club
can be worth that kind of pain.