by Lyricly Stout

Created on: February 04, 2007   Last Updated: May 14, 2007

New Orleans

I love beats

New Orleans city streets

the pulse of a city alive with heat hunger and history

it's no mystery to me why so many flock to a city that never sleeps

where poetry is still deep

thirty feet below the sea

a southern sanctuary for creativity

where free spirited minds can grow despite the negative flow

where abnormal is normal and informal is formal on most occasions

a laid back concentration of Cajuns,

Creoles and various strong souls that maintain, nurture and glow

in the belly of oppression

where education is extinct

but each day reveals a lesson

a city that keeps you guessing

founded upon the crescent captive souls hold possession

common questions lead to common vision

again our spirit has risen

relentlessly reaching radical heights

I love NO city night flights bright lights Mic fights

and tight hole in the wall spots

that time forgot

using my pen to jot jolts of inspiration

racing thoughts

caught by the rush of horns

pricking my mind like thorns

keeping me out til dawn then out til dawn then on and on

endlessly inciting these writings and analogies

while sitting amongst the oak trees riding a cool breeze from the Mississippi

avoiding the shifty who try to shaft me

in shadowed alleys

where criminals with lost dreams rally

been from Cali to Brooklyn

got connections but I'm hooked in

to New Orleans

where the winds and the grace of God decided to plant my pod

apparently music blossoms inherently here

and years of rhythm reappear

elevating through innovation

exposing imitations

we've remained patient

but now defend our crown getting down with the sound of the South

making Cash Money

with No Limit

by using our mouth

we bank on God's gift

watch the tide shift

caught in the riff some will be

I blow when God wills

me spirit fills me

levees broken open spillways

my waves carry the slave's struggle

no longer muffled by this sportsman's paradise

reducing rights

but we continue to fight for this land adrift upon water

that ought to be ours

and hours of jazz from the past bring forth our worthiness

of course they bury this metropolis

leaving the populace

doubting our power

but in the final hour of their reign we're doing our own thing

going against the grain with hurricane winds to bend their brains

and on trains, monorails, street cars, and bars on Bourbon

we'll reminisce of the beast serving his version of the law

speaking about how peace we are

in our unique nation

I love NO city celebration

whether be young or aging we cook for all occasions

lacing our meals with skill spice and fire

an acquired taste for an acclimated

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