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    poetry


    dots Submission Name: Trailer Park Exodusdots
    --------------------------------------------------------





    Author: tjsmith5
    ASL Info:    28/m/MS
    Elite Ratio:    5.49 - 109/231/124
    Words: 391
    Class/Type: Poetry/Misc
    Total Views: 883
    Average Vote:    No vote yet.
    Bytes: 2544



    Description:
       Pardon me if this appears multiple times - I am trying to become famaliar with the format of this web page.

    Thank you for taking the time to read this.

    Regards,
    T.J.


    Make the font bigger!! Double Spacing Back to recent posts.

    dotsTrailer Park Exodusdots
    -------------------------------------------


    The Sunday morning sun creeps
    over the pine tree horizon,
    washing away the criminal darkness,
    which had just aided and abetted
    the backwoods engineers and amateur pharmacists

    To reveal,

    A vandalís artistry
    on the wooden fence that
    quarantines the trailer park,
    reading in chrome black,
    ďRedneck Riviera.Ē

    I hand feed fresh Jimmy Dean sausage
    to my basset hound, Wilbur
    as I overhear the widow Leonaís
    early morning broadcast of the first Baptist church of Biloxi.
    Todayís sermon: He that restrains his lips is wise out of Proverbs

    Cause around here you never know who youíre pissing off.

    Wilbur has taught me to rise early
    so I can nap in the afternoon
    and not be woken by
    sheriffís deputiesí nightly heroisms,
    foiling drunken rantings and cock fights.

    We keep to ourselves, Wilbur and I
    in the third trailer from the left,
    the best my electricianís salary can afford.
    Suspicious that my grandfather was an electrician
    and had a home in Baton Rouge, a wife and two kids.

    But Iíve learned to live like an artist,
    to relinquish the devilís grip on my spine
    and relish the early morning quiet,
    afternoon zephyrs in September
    and Jim Croce ballads.

    The poetic oasis saves me.
    Cause out of boredom
    have these mobile home dwellers fallen
    with nothing here to do but a lot of forgetting,
    making unintended whores and vagrants of us all.

    But I keep myself free

    of meth and desperate mothers
    gambling and southern comfort
    and keep my speech yes sir, no sir,
    remembering the preacherís lesson from Proverbs.
    Seems like he can be trusted.

    Though the means by which I leave this place evade me
    Iíll plant dogwoods to shield us from the vandalís artistry,
    cook crawfish etoufee for the widow Leona
    and scent my trailer with honeysuckle candles.
    And if I donít discover the means, maybe theyíll find me.

    So that maybe one Sunday morning
    in the not to distant future
    I can overhear the preacherís sermon from Exodus
    when I depart the trailer-littered grave, arms raised to the sky
    as Wilbur barks in triumph,

    Aaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrooooooooooo!!!!!!




    Submitted on 2006-08-29 16:16:24     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
    Submissions: [ Previous ] [ Next ]

    Rate This Submission

    1: >_<
    2: I dunno...
    3: meh!
    4: Pretty cool
    5: Wow!




    ||| Comments |||
      Any chance you might be from Louisiana?
    | Posted on 2006-08-29 00:00:00 | by annie0888 | [ Reply to This ]
      This is one of the most enjoyable reads I have encountered lately. I must say I learned something about myself also. I found that I read others writing with a predisposition to look for errors. The thing is, as I read your piece I very quickly stopped looking and started enjoying. There are some punctuation issues that you might want to consider at some time to polish this jewel, but like I said, a really great read. Favorite stanza would have to beÖ

    But Iíve learned to live like an artist,
    to relinquish the devilís grip on my spine
    and relish the early morning quiet,
    afternoon zephyrs in September
    and Jim Croce ballads.

    Thanks for sharing. -crutch


    | Posted on 2006-08-31 00:00:00 | by Crutch | [ Reply to This ]
      Honestly,I log on real early or real late so I'm either too tired or just wakin up to read long scripts... But this right here kept me readin from line one till the end.... The detail you involve make it a beautiful write.
    Keep it up...

    Pix
    | Posted on 2006-09-05 00:00:00 | by pixie_007 | [ Reply to This ]
      Tj
    I agree with Crutch
    This is a beautiful and well written write
    I can relate very easily to every word you have said
    I have grown up poor as well in money and I still to this day Always have had a dream of living in a trailer park with my Mother away from the negativity of the world
    I also can very easily understand the meth problem As I was hooked on that stuff for 5 long Years before the Good Lord and the Love of my family rescued me from that life of hell
    I am eagerly awaiting new posts from you
    I am making this one a favorute!!!
    God Bless
    Ron
    | Posted on 2006-09-01 00:00:00 | by Ronswords | [ Reply to This ]
      Haha - thanks for asking. Actually I hail from Necaise, MS. It is a small village approximately 20 minutes from the LA state line. I frequently travel to Slidell for daquiris.

    The poem could be set in different places along the gulf coast - that's what I had imagined, but primarily in MS or in LA.

    But I love the LA culture and to cook cajun food - especially crawfish etoufee!

    Au revoir,
    Le Smith
    | Posted on 2006-08-29 00:00:00 | by tjsmith5 | [ Reply to This ]


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