Sunday, July 30, 2006


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Seems to me like our past goes unheard and we forget to listen... remember...

Southern trees bear a strange fruit,
Blood on the leaves and blood at the root,
Black body swinging in the Southern breeze,
Strange fruit hanging from the poplar trees.

Pastoral scene of the gallant South,
The bulging eyes and the twisted mouth,
Scent of magnolia sweet and fresh,
And the sudden smell of burning flesh!

Here is a fruit for the crows to pluck,
For the rain to gather, for the wind to suck,
For the sun to rot, for a tree to drop,
Here is a strange and bitter crop.


Blah Blah Blah said...

Were you listening to Billie Holiday?

How are you doing Anthony

VAR said...

I was watching the movie Lady Sings The Blues over the weekend and those words and that scene from the film fit well with a story that I'm working on right now... And it reminds me of times when I travelled through the south and could see and feel the spirit of what may have happened years ago...