Thursday, May 27, 2010


New Atlantis and Banglateche

By Houma Cayenne

Here beside my breathing Bayou Teche
true lifeblood of our Acadian creche
my second sight so easily stretches
oer the realm of the fishermen's catch
and the damage caused by greed and its wretches
I mourn for the view that's meant us
for the floating early grave that's sent us
the oncoming waters of New Atlantis

I see our sea birds' desperate flailing
overwhelmed, hopes frail and lean
and our skimmers' regretful sailing
while retching toxins oer the railing
dreading more each year's new gale e'en
as I ponder night and daily
the meaning of the mighty pirates failing
as mon amis must keep on bailing

To the inland coast of Banglateche
come the lapping waves of New Atlantis
through the heaving booms of helpless mesh
by the isles of decaying detritus
carrying bodies of beings you'd have to guess
tides of mayhem, murder, and mindless mess
witnessed by your humble Cajun Cervantes
tilting seaward like a mantis
raging with a sacred wailing
for a time of great white whaling
a catch of mighty pirates failing
their lies and sad excuses trailing
all the way to their righteous jailing
as mon amis still keep on bailing

New Atlantis and Banglateche
our refuge now becomes the depths
our solid ground eternally wet
yet wonder where to throw our nets
and how we'll throw each jour de fete
Oh Evangeline you dear coquette
we thought we'd somehow save you yet
your marshes and heron, chenier and egret
the sheltering cypress, the saltgrass carpet
the oyster and crab and shrimp we've met
Oh all of life, we are in your debt
as heart to heart and tete to tete
we grieve for the diet of poison you'll get
for your suffering we've more than our share of regret
as the years roll by a la morte de roulette
le bon temps au revoir et allons Banglateche
we pray that somehow we can all start afresh
as out in New Atlantis the pirates keep failing
and mon amis must keep on bailing

Tuesday, May 18, 2010

I'm a Little Teabagger

I'm a little teabagger
short and stout
hear me fly off the handle
hear me whine and pout

When I get all steamed up
hear me shout
"Tip me over
I'm poor-me'd out".* **

*PG-rated ending:
"Tip me over
and whore me out".

**R-rated ending:
"Tip me over
and hush my mouth".

---Traditional

Saturday, May 15, 2010




The #1 Poem In America

I've got the #1 poem in America
and it's brought to you by Prozac and Lyrica
it's got an edgy non sequitur staccata maraca
and it's known to cause ritual hysterica
it's the #1 poem in America
It's botox, bobby sox, shock jocks, and electroshocks
space walks, detox, 9-ml Glocks, and triple locks
DNA building blocks, doomsday clocks, one big black box
it's the #1 poem in America
and it's brought to you by a rollercoaster pharmica
and it may cause or prevent the next Guernica
it's the #1 poem in America

Larry Piltz
Auschtin, Texas


Tuesday, May 4, 2010


The Gulf

"The water was fouled at once,
but they drank it none the less,
a mess of mud and blood"
- Thucydides

Oil on the water
blood on the sands
cruel and unusual
big business plans
eleven souls dying
then countless more
fellow live beings
damn big business whores
crude in their veins
greedy slick hearts
their making a killing
rips lives apart
big oil at the table
pounds on its chest
keeps us addicted
kills all the rest
what becomes of our world
what becomes of our pride
what becomes of our lives
when death comes with the tide

Larry Piltz
Austin, TX
(from Back Bay,
Biloxi, MS)

- Use of the above photo is an act
of conscious civil disobedience in protest
of British Petroleum, et al, malfeasance.

Sunday, May 2, 2010

Who Me
(Ballad of the Hoot Owls)

10:40
Soundlessly
dark has settled
drenched the earth
waking the nocturne
suddenly from on high
an emphatic cry

Voice 1:
I who am here am here who
I am who is here
Is there a you here who
I who am here am here who
I am who is here
Listening for you here who

5:40
Faintest glow
barely preceding
premonition of dawn
stills night's last
suddenly from on high
again an emphatic cry

Voice 1:
I who am here am here who
I am who is here
Is there a you here who
I who am here am here who
I am who is here
Listening for you here who

Voice 2:
I who too am here now am here who
I too am who is here
Is that you here too who
I who too am here now am here who
I too am who is here
Is that you here too who

Voice 1:
I who am here now am glad who
Am happy that you are here too
Am happy there is a you who
Is happy that I am here too who

Voice 2:
I who too am here now am glad who
Am happy there's now a happy you who
Listens at night for my who too
As I listen at night for your who who

Larry Piltz
Indian Cove

Saturday, May 1, 2010



The Wave

Wherever there's a wave, there's a way, and a wave.
Wherever there's a wave, there's a way,
Forever is the day of the wave and the way.
Wherever there's a wave, there's a way.

Life is like a beach, there's a wave, and a way.
When love is within reach, there's a way.
The pain is there to teach us a way of the wave
and that within the wave there's more than one way

When you're on your own, there's a wave, and a way.
If your heart begins to groan, there's a way.
There is kindness you'll be shown by the wave, by the way,
and sharing kindness, if you will, is the way.

As we sail the stars, there's a wave, and a way.
If our Earth becomes like Mars, there's a way.
As we move out of our cars, out of the way of that wave,
we'll no longer be like slaves all our days.

As you live and breathe, there's a wave, and a way.
When your laughter turns to grief, there's a way.
It will cleanse all your beliefs and will show you the way,
the way to laugh and to believe every day.

Wherever there's a wave, there's a way, and a wave.
Wherever there's a wave, there's a way.
Forever is the day of the wave and the way.
Wherever there's a wave, there's a way.

Larry Piltz
Indian Cove

                               Thirteen to Seventeen Spiders S urface water is the background of the photo, meaning the camera is pointin...