Hurricane Katrina - Why?

"The Katrina Blues"

Ive been watching the news
Humming and moaning the Katrina Blues
Watching news crews snooze
Trying me, Lying to me
Ignoring human suffering
A man said Im going out of my head, my wife is dead
And you didnt so much as offer him Bufferin
As her hand slipped from his
She told him You cant save me
Just take care of the kids
And I cried with him
I cried for him
I could only touch my TV screen
But I could still feel him
I screamed Hell Yeah
When I heard Kanye rant about the media slant
On how white people were finding food to survive
While black people were looting
And I prayed Lord please dont let them start shooting
Save the babies, feed the children, love and protect the woman
Why would you rape her?
Sisters barely holding on
She didnt offer, so you take her against her will
Whats really real?
Is this the final hour?
AmeriKKKa back up off that claim of being a super power
As I viewed the devastation, I was led into meditation
Could this be Gods will to change the complexion of a Nation
From lily white to whats really right
From haves and have-nots to givers and get-a-lots
In this so-called melting pot
Watching bodies rot
Because schemers, excuse me, because FEMA
Was late with a food and water drop
I believe if there was a way for them to leave
They would have left, now theres nothing left
Im just like them living check to check
Only difference is Im not actually wading in water
Up to my neck
Even with advance warning, Im still mourning
For family, not even blood related
Whos at fault will be debated
Back and forth across the color line
Now this concept is heavy
Could it be the muddy waters of your mind
Broke through your spiritual levee a long time ago?
How else can you explain being so slow to react?
Damn near every so-called refugee on my TV was black
So has it really come down to that?
So you gave weekend warriors marching orders
To come through the French Quarter
To shoot to kill
How about they recoup to heal?
Carry food for meals
New Orleans is below sea level
But I see devils in high places
I saw men, woman and children staring into cameras
With no hope in their faces
Bus after bus taking them to unknown places
Like slaves being taken to new plantations
When theres no more room at the inn
What then?
Just sit and rot on that hot bus
While they discuss this influx of so-called refugees
I believe youd be less likely to procrastinate
If so many people in need
Didnt happen to look just like me
Now its really hit the fan
The levee broke
And all I could say is damn!

Christopher "Poetry Man" Fields

Born on September 11th, his given name is Christopher L. Fields. Tapping into the ambient energy of verbal expression; he assumed his true identity of The Poetry Man.

His style is a hybrid of the Church, the Classroom, and the Corner. Equally comfortable in the basement or the penthouse, he bends words to penetrate and overcome all barriers to effective communication.

A native of Ohio, he now resides in the DC Metropolitan Area; where he addresses contemporary issues with an old soul, and a profound understanding of self that engages the listener to the point of being entranced. In terms of subject matter, he can go from one end of the spectrum to other in the blink of an eye. The Poetry Man does not recite his work; he lives, breathes, and bleeds Poetry. His very soul is manifest each time he delivers the word.

Louis B