the city has always set with the steam--
God's veil...underneath filled with a sultry, creole mystique....
Spoken stories of days almost unfamiliar...
Buildings that lust to touch the skies, jealous of their off-spring that blend and stand next to them...
Their faces--creased with family history and weathered by countless tears...
Eyes filled with a fire; burning fiercely from their Mid-nights, Amaretto dusks, Laizze- days...and expecting dawns...
Land pillaged, purchased, walked, crawled, bled, and now these streets sweat from the cauldron below...
The Creator shines his graces from above to chase away the disdain and shadows--though, so close to the fires below...
Santoria, Voodoo and Catholic whisperers utter secrets to things unseen tying to get a glimpse of a better life than the one which exists now...
Chasing away their D'Evils with juice, shooting Patron and a distant brother...
Riding on the rims to reach the skies, with tires wider than an age he may never see...
A price that steep and can't afford the cost...
Lost in the Rhythm & Blues...
the great and meager have listened to their stomachs, followed with their ears, and walked their eyes along her fine, full Ave's...
Curiosity leads them down sticky, moist streets...
Lights and heat, inviting them down into the crevices...inside her...And thrive from those same Johns...
Familiar, their moves unrehearsed, reaching for riches unknown above them...
Quenching their thirst with her particular poison...
Writhing to the beat within her walls-they implore my maturity...
The bust...or purr of my bugle...the breath of my tone and my thick...sultry Boom...
But what attracts them is always the allure--my make up...
A slight twinkle within the gloom of the shade....
Surviving by the mystique...
Johns pumping to my beats and speaking of the Legends or Myths or getting lost in my eyes--though blind...
I know you'heard about me...
Experience.....My Big Easy...
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