Always Coming Home
why is it every time
i think of the south
i can taste...
cornbread, beans,
fried chicken,
hell, everything fried!
barbeque, good whiskey,
southern baptist revivals,
dark eyed girls moaning,
fresh turned earth on the plow,
oak split by the axe,
squirrels, rabbits, and frogs...
and yes, the hanging tree,
the buses partitioned by hate,
the factories sucking life's blood,
now shut down and haunted.
the milk cows gone dry,
and doors that are now locked.
the meth lab taste of plastic,
hillbilly heroin by the pill.
graveyards desecrated,
the lakes and rivers poisoned....
that long walk across mississippi,
and old cars up on blocks.
trailer parks rusting down,
old depots, and empty tracks
sundown over the mountains,
and spirits in the night....
her prodigal son,
always coming home!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Dark Southern Skies
faded sign falling down
from an abandoned mill
mailboxes full of
unopened bills
houses with no curtains
old cars up on blocks
all the stores are empty
all the doors are locked
dark southern skies
no one's home anymore
no one hears the cry
no one sweeps the floor
man without work
his woman turns away
dark southern skies
and there's no one left to pray...
empty crib gathers dust
a Bible by the bed
workboots in the corner
with this ring i thee wed
pictures on the wall
dont answer in the night
and empty still looks empty
in the morning light
dark southern skies
no one's home anymore
no one hears the cry
no one sweeps the floor
man without work
his woman turns away
dark southern skies
there's no one left to pray....
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Southern Gul
Hmm...
Yeah, show you right
Come on
Shing a ling shing, shing a ling shong
Shing a ling shing, shing a ling shong
Shing a ling shing, shing a ling shong
Twing twing dign ding dong
I'm from the South
I'm a Southern Girl
Home of the burning church
Don't know much about the world
Home of the pocket stones
Home of the booty songs
Home of the fingerwave that lasts
All night long
Home of the On & On
Home of the dominoes
Home of the two piece and a pepper
Home of the teeth is gold
Home of the Never Miss
Home of the platinum hits
I'm a Southern Girl
(Southern Girl)
Countryfied
Everything I eat is fried
Got a Southern drawl
I'm so country, y'all
Well that's way down South
Yeah it's way down low
Check my Southern-fried style
And my Southern flow
(Southern Girl)
Countryfied
I like my Tofu fried
Got about a hundred friends
That ain't caught on the trends
Don't know about the Internet
Don't know about the radio
Don't know about the television
All I know is 'bout my flow
My kin folks snet me out
To make money for the house
Hooked up with my boy, Rahzel
I sure hope the record sell
(Southern Girl)
Southern Girl, and I'll rock your world
Fly as a bumble bee (Buzz)
Can't nobody f*** with me
I'm a Southern Girl
From way down South
Got a dirty way
'Cause I got a dirty mouth, dirty South
(Southern Girl)
Twing da ling, dang da dang, tiki tiki
(Southern Girl)
Twing da ding ding da dong
Sounding like a
(Southern Girl)
Twing a ding ding a ding ding ding
(Southern Girl)
Ding a ding ding a dong
Big D, Lil' A, Double L.A.
Big D, Lil' A, Double L.A.
Big D, Lil' A, Double L.A.S
Mmm...mmm...mmm...
Dey ding a ding ding ding ding
Ding a ding ding ding
Ding a ding ding ding
song performed by by Erykah Badu
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dont Quote Me On That
Its all eggs bacon beans and a fried slice.
Did you see the one, yeah yeah,
The one they wrote in the paper just the other day,
Well, well would you believe it,
Well what I said, they took it all the wrong way.
Now youve gotta be careful, bout what you say,
Cos theyve got a bad habit
Were you reading in between the lines?
Or is that what I said? , now I just cant remember
They seem to have a very good memory though
But as far as Im concerned, as as far as Im concerned
You don;t have to be black white, chinese or anything really
Just enjoy, shut up, listen and dance...
Its all eggs bacon beans and a fried slice
Dont quote me on that, dont quote me on that
Dont quote me on that, please dont quote me
Dont quote me on that
Dont quote me on that
Hey hey, you know something, I said I liked that guy,
But thats not what I read in the paper
I dont have anything against them,
Its just eggs bacon and a fried slice
Dont quote me on that dont quote me on that
Dont quote me on that please dont quote me
Dont quoe me on that
Dont quote me on that.
You know, now we get worried about what we say
We shouldnt be that way
You know, I dont care who comes,
Cos as far as Im concerned,
Its, eggs bacon beans and a fried slice
Dont quote me on that
Dontr quote me on that
Please dont quote me
Mama mama, you know Im still friends with mickey
They say I shouldnt like him anymore, because Im all white,
Well hes allright by me
Dont quote me on that
Please dont quote me
Dont quote me on that
Dont quote me on that
Now what I do, I bring all my old friends along to see the show
And if you have the wrong ideas well,
Its all eggs bacon beans and a fried slice
Dont quote me on that oh no
(dont quote me on that)
Please dont quote me
(dont quote me on that)
I never said that
(dont quote me on that)
Thats not what I meant
(dont quote me on that)
Well I suppose you could take it that way
(dont quote me on that)
But thats not what I meant to say
(dont quote me on that)
Wont you give me another chance
(dont quote me on that)
Please please
Dont quote me on that....
Id like to say thank you to pete, peter tosh
And all the other people who come and they believe in us for the fun and the music
Cos all Ive got to say to you press now is
Its all bacon beans and a fried slice
Eggs bacon beans and a fried slive
Go to maggies caff
132 liverpool road
Just down the road, just round the corner
Only theres not much corner
Its just chairs and tables and theyve even got a space invaders machine...
A cup of tea, thats fine for me,
Cos its all eggs bacon beans and a fried slive
Are you sure you turned that tape recorder off?
Are you sure? ,
Are you sure?
song performed by by Madness
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Chicken & chips
Chicken & chips
Often brought by fast food addicts
Who love the finger licking taste
Fried fatty food
Unhealthy but cheap
Eaten for hunger's sake
Shop owners
Laughing all the way to the bank
At the expense
Of junk food loving customers
Who just want to fill their belly
With a cheap box of fried chicken & chips.
poem by Sinclair Azubuike
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Wild Eyed Southern Boys
Its a hot night at the juke joint
And the bands pumpin rhythm and blues
Gonna spill a little rock and roll blood tonight
Gonna make some front page news
And the ladies hate the violence
Still they never seem to look away
Cause they love those
Wild eyed southern boys
Wild eyed boys
Wild eyed southern boys
Its a southern point of honor
You got a get right in on the action
You can hear the outlaws holler
Fight for the lady in black
And she's just one in a million
But she's all I need tonight
Cause she loves those
Wild eyed southern boys
Wild eyed boys
Wild eyed southern boys
Wild eyed boys
Oohhh yeah
Wild eyed boys
A man of wealth and power
Is out on the dance hall floor
He got a champagne Eldorado parked outside the door
And he's looking for a honky tonk angel
But he don't stand a chance in hell
Cause he ain't no wild eyed southern boy
Wild eyed boy
Wild eyed southern boy
Wild eyed
Wild eyed southern boy
Wild eyed southern boys
Wild eyed boy
Wild eyed southern boy
Wild eyed boy
Wild eyed boy
Wild eyed southern boys
Wild eyed boys
song performed by by 38 Special
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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From Hillbilly Heaven, To Honky Tonk Hell
(michael huffman/woody mullis/mike geiger)
On a hillside in hazzard
Sets a new double-wide
Gods little acre
Your paradise
A poor boy found heaven
With a good country girl
He had all he wanted
She was his whole world
But working the coal mine
Can wear a man down
He started spending
Too much time in town
He found temptation
Fell under its spell
And hillbilly heaven
Went to honky tonk hell
From hillbilly heaven
To honky tonk hell
From a warm home fire burning
To a cold, cheap motel
And an angel is crying
cause her good man fell
From hillbilly heaven
To honky tonk hell
Somewhere in hazzard
On a dark, dead-end street
Where whiskey and heartache
And old memories meet
He looks for salvation
In a bottle each night
And just goes on livin
Though hes lost his life
Now theres a job in the coal mine
That needs to be filled
And a heartache in hazzard
That wont ever heal
He had it all
Now its all for sale
And hillbilly heavens
Gone to honky tonk hell
From hillbilly heaven
To honky tonk hell
From a warm home fire burning
To a cold, cheap motel
And an angel is crying
cause her good man fell
From hillbilly heaven
To honky tonk hell
Hes gone from hillbilly heaven
To honky tonk hell
song performed by by Kenny Chesney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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“Old Miss” (A Travelers Impression)
Stepping off a late flight to Memphis,
we made our way through the stony-silence
of a nearly empty terminal…a far cry from
other big city airports (“I like it here already! ”)
Met by family at the security gate and after baggage claim
we soon were driving south. Our final destination,
Saltillo, Mississippi, a small town near Tupelo,
birthplace of Elvis Presley.
The darkness of night prevented us from seeing
the landscape, this would have to wait until tomorrow.
We awakend to the cooing of mourning doves and our
adventure in the “Deep South” was about to unfold.
The next few days were a plethora of people and events;
It was late May with daytime temperatures in the mid eighties.
It cooled down nicely after sunset. The humidity
was comfortable, nothing like expected.
The people;
A gumbo of friendly black & white folk that seem to live
harmoniously with each other, unlike the racism of 50 years ago.
I never tired of hearing people speak their wonderful southern drawl.
There was a sense of permanence, especially among the African
Americans, a noble race, made unique over hundreds
of years and generations of mixed blood.
The land;
What struck me most about the landscape was the endless sea of green
of many verieties of leafy and conifer trees, concealing vast fields planted with cotton and soybeans.
A ribbon road known as the “Natchez Trace” a two-lane highway that snakes through a seemingly endless countryside.
A unique place of beauty, meticulously maintained
by the State of Mississippi.
Elvis;
After a workout at an excellent gym built and maintained by a local
hospital, we were off to visit the house where Elvis was born
and the museum and chapel that honor him,
Delivered by a mid-wife in a tiny two room house, Elvis Aaron Presley was born
January 8,1935 to Vernon & Gladys Presley. Sadly, Elvis’s twin brother was still born.
Vernon was a sharecropper living in a house built with with own hands and a loan from his landlord. The house had no running water or indoor toilet. They heated and cooked with a kitchen woodstove and stored their perishable food in an icebox. All the family slept in the same bed or on floor mats.
After finding fame and fortune, Elvis once said,
“No amount of money will help me forget, growing up poor”
The hardware store still stands where Elvis bought his first guitar.
Alas, “The King has left the room”
“Old Miss” is part of the Bible Belt, as evidenced by the abundance of churches. It seemed like there was a church on every corner…Southern Baptist, Methodist and Church of Christ being the most dominate.
Southern cooking;
Grits, fried okra, fried catfish, gulf prawns, fried pickles and Barbecued pork/beef, chicken fried steak, fried green tomatoes and sweet potato pie are standard fare…with key emphisis on “Fried”.
In the final analysis, Northern Mississippi still lives the innocense of the late 50’s but has all the accouterments of the 21st century…a pleasant and friendly place to live, raise children and worship God.
ROTMS
poem by Ray Lucero
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Willow tree by the lake
Willow tree by the lake standing tall since the day one
Home for birds and squirrels, place of fun
Breeze will come and play with her branches
Whistle at them before they move on
Any time, at mid day, at night or at the crack of dawn
Humming bird feeder and bird house hanging all over the tree
They swing back and forth and hang free
All summer it is a fun house as the birds come and go
Rabbits will hop around on the ground below.
Ducks will sit idle or sleep under her shade
Squirrels will carry food up the trunk, not afraid
During winter when nature sleeps no life around
Willow tree will shelter the birds, the squirrels
and even the worms under it's ground.
Many yrs ago I planted the tree, saw it grow day by day
Sat under it, wrote poems, it made me happy and gay
I know one day my time will be up and I will be gone
But my willow tree will still be here, singing with the wind at each dawn.
poem by Syed Karim
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That Bears Our Name
i can only taste scars tonight,
ashes, and blood turned to wine.
that old tree, cut and fallen,
the sound of wings long absent.
the web is empty,
and even the wind doesnt reply.
the garden mourns its time of passing,
and the plow is left alone.
sometimes we wake up homeless,
hungry without needing to eat.
to find that we are orphaned,
by the very heart that bears our name!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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I like refried beans. That's why I wanna try fried beans, because maybe they're just as good and we're just wasting time. You don't have to fry them again after all.
quote by Mitch Hedberg
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Church Street, Pretoria
Right down the street the traffic lights are green
and a couple of homeless men stand around a fire
in a half drum and ambulances and police cars scream
while they past rows and rows of flats for hire
and a couple of kids stand smoking at the stream
and this is reality, the heart of the city.
On the sidewalk pedestrians walk in crowds of men,
women and some children, some booted up to the knee
others with mini skirts short enough to condemn them
and my city stays lovely to me.
People queue for fried chicken, fish
and chips at shops and cafés and the smells fill my nose
and tomatoes and onions, lamb and steak are fried with a hiss
and in the traffic an angry speed-cop tries to retain his pose
when a minibus taxi almost runs him over, gives him a fright
at a flickering traffic light
and cars stream by into the coming night.
poem by Gert Strydom
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To Kill
I want to come out
I wanna tell the world who I am
starting with you
how I felt all these years
trapped in a dark box
trying to hide who I am
who I was born to be
a killer
I feel the powerful need
the need
to kill
I feel the darkness put it’s blindfold
over my hungry eyes to confuse myself
from what’s right and wrong
I’m staving to kill
to see the fear in your helpless eyes
to hear you plead beg and
your screams of pain while I begin to cut you open
feel the power of having control over your life
to kill
ooo... the satisfaction of taking a life
I might even get off as you slowly die
of corse that would have to be after
I ate some of your own flesh as you watch
I think honey barbeque sauce what about you
do you like honey barbeque? ? ?
I’m getting horney just thinking about killing someone
the only thing that would make it better is making someone else rape you
as I watch
I think that guy tied up in the corner will do just fine
don’t you? ? ?
O look he’s waking up
just in time
I then notice that the ropes that are now imbedded in your wrists and ankles are coved in blood
It’s dripping onto the bed
I quickly grab my glass and your sweet blood
fills the glass fast
I remove the gag and try to let you drink it but
you just continue to choke on it
and since you shouldn’t waste a good thing
I decide to drink it
I’ll get off and cut you some more
now I have two victims
o well it’s just more meet to add to my barbeque
that I will start to prepare while your still alive
the ribs will be so tender
that it will melt in my mouth
to kill
ahh... yes... scream this dose hurt
o don’t worry it’s sanitized I make sure I take good care
of all my victims
yes I think this chunk of your leg will be
just fine for the taste test
don’t you
would you like a piece when it’s done
no? ? ?
Ya I wouldn’t want eat me either
I think you’ll taste much better then I would
no longer will I be sick of not killing
I will never hold myself back from not killing
to kill
KILL KILL KILL
the taste of victory
I’m guessing you’ll taste just like chicken
to slowly take a life
for them to live
no more
to kill
mmmm.... I think that your almost done
are you sure you don’t want a piece
and they say that I’m sane
P.S.
This is just a joke NOT FOR REAL! DONT TAKE IT TO HEART! ! !
poem by Mrs. Cynosure
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Apache Rose Peacock
Sittin' on a sack of beans
Sittin' down in New Orleans
You wouldn't believe what I've seen
Sitting on that sack of beans
Lunatics on pogo sticks
Another southern fried freak on a crucifix
Hicks don't mix with politics
People on the street just kickin' to the licks
Yes my favorite place to be
Is not a land called Honah Lee (MI.)
Mentally or physically
I wanna be in New Orleans
Oh good brother just when I thought
That I had seen it all
My eyes popped out
song performed by by Red Hot Chili Peppers from Blood Sugar Sex Magik
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Wilma's Welcome
He sat the table, fresh kid,
waiting for his dinner,
pushing back the war
now so far away.
His big brother smiled
glad to see him safe,
when she walked in,
carrying a steaming plate
of the best fried chicken
either had ever seen.
The aroma awoke in his memory
soft Ohio nights,
God's righteous thunder rumbling
gentle rains cooling the hot August sky,
when Mom carried in our dinner,
fried chicken and mashed potatoes,
safety and love.
And looking at his brother's new wife,
he smiled and at last said,
'welcome to the family! '
poem by Steven Federle
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Swimming in Rivers of Blood
Locked away,
In solitary.
Padded walls,
Closing in.
My mind,
Is fried.
Dark intentions,
Burn me.
Like venom,
They kill.
The only reason I'm here,
Is because I was swimming.
Swimming in rivers of blood.
The blood wasn't mine,
It was my enemy's.
I'm not the murderer.
He killed himself.
I found him in the floor,
And said a prayer for him.
I prayed for his soul,
To find salvation.
But then they arrived,
Flooding the house.
Like black smoke,
They filled the house.
They pushed out the air,
And suffocated me.
They locked me away,
For no reason at all.
And so now,
My mind is corrupted.
poem by Andrew Long
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I Thank You For The Little Things
thank you my love for the little things
though how little how can i forget?
the way you remind me to comb my hair
when i begin to forget in so doing
to point to me where my glasses are
my pen which is just hanging in my collar
the taste of the fried chicken that i have almost forgotten
thank for those little conversations
on the lazy afternoon
thank you for the glass of cold lemonade
when my throat begins to sore
thank you for the notes
of a day's reminder on top of my bed
when i have overslept
thank you for being with me
for all these years
thank you my love
for sticking with me
when i have none anymore
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Too Many Lies
too many lies,
desecrate the ground.
the footprints of fallen angels,
covered by the dust of hate.
spoon fed history turned bitter,
the sound of children's voices lost.
even the old juke joints,
deserted and vacant.
handmade guitars,
strings made of human flesh.
the howl of an angry wind,
pierces cardboard shelters.
cars abandoned on the side of the road,
fresh turned earth, no hands to plant.
passion's legs wrapped around,
the bodies now hollow.
young girls fall like rain,
forgotten by time.
to be madly in love,
and pant with desire...
all echoes and rust!
when bibles become weapons,
and the cost is too high.
dead poets whisper,
neath the old hanging tree.
flags flown at half mast,
and the factories are closed.
and you just cant remember
your grandfather's face!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Like It This Time
when the world is so silent
because everyone is fast asleep.
when the night is dark
when all the lights on the street
are turned off
when no one walks his way
back home
because everyone is finally
at home
i like it this time when the wind
stops when the leaves find
no disturbance
when the paths and roads are
finally vacant from feet and cars
and buses
when every car is parked in the garage
when the child sleeps
in her mothers arms sucking her nipple
when the father is beside mother's
body
when sisters hug each other in bed
i like it this time
when the world finally is rested
for i am now awakened from
my sleep
i like it this time when i begin
to write
when what i hear is this
computer machine is buzzing
fanning (sighing)
like my long trip
in the plane.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Same In The End
Down in mississippi where the sun beats down from the sky
They give it up but they never ask why
Daddy was a rolling, rolling stone he rolled away one day
And he never came home
It aint hard to understand this aint hitlers master plan
What it takes to be a man in my mind and in my brain
I roll it over like a steamin freight train
It aint hard to ascertain
You only see what you want to believe
When you light in the back with those tricks up your sleeve
That dont mean I cant hang
But the day that I die will be the day I shut my mouth
And put down my guitar
Sunday morning hold church down at the bar
Get down on my knees and start to pray
Pray my itchy rash will go away
Back up yall it aint me
Kentucky fried chicken is all that I see
Its a hellified way to start your day
If I make you cry all night
Me and daddy are gonna have a fist fight
It aint personal it aint me
I only hear what you told me to be
Im a backward ass hillbilly
Im dick butkiss
You know I lie
I get me an Im a thief in the dark
Im a rain machine Im a triple rectified ass s.o.b
Rec-tite(tm) on my ass
And it makes me itch
I can see for miles and miles and miles
My broken heart makes me smile
In my mind in my brain I go back and go completely insane
It aint personal
It aint me
If I make you cry I might be your daddy at the end of the night
Take a loadfrom my big gun
You only see what you want to believe
When you creep from the back
You got tricks up my sleeve
24/7 the devils my best friend
Makes no difference its all the same in the end
song performed by by Sublime
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Im A Southern Man
Tony joe white
Send me a pan of corn bread with some turnip greens on the side
And if you really want to mess with my head give me anything southern fried
Give me some faded blue jeans and a pair of old cowboy boots
And Im gonna tell you where I come from tell you somethin about my roots
Im a southern man, Im a southern man,
Im a southern man, (spoken) Im a southern man
Send me a woman to love me with a lot of meat on her bones
Theres something about a big lady I just cant leave em alone
Id like to take her down to the river go skinny dippin in the night
Aint nothin like being with my lady and makin love in the pale moon light
Cause Im a southern man, a hah ah Im a southern man, Im a southern
Man, southern man, Im a southern man
Give me that soulful music it sure makes me feel so nice
So I can do the alligator and get it on every saturday night
Give me that southern comfort, give me annie greensprings wine
Take me on down to the bayou and Ill sure have a real good time
Im a southern man repeated many times to end
song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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