Oil is the Salt in the Wound of The Gulf

By Houma Cayenne

We have saltwater in our veins

and when it pours it biblically rains

God knows we've had our losses and gains

had lots of Abels and our share of Cains

but we're open and we're warm

and we let our love be our charm

and believe in the power of first do no harm

we believe in the power of first do no harm

There's a Gulf within

and a Gulf out there

there's the Gulf my friend

and a Gulf of care

a Gulf between

what we say and do

the silent Gulf we don't mean

between me and you

the Gulf between

suffering and ease

a wide Gulf that's bridged

like the old Rigolets

Is ours a Gulf of childhood innocence

or a Gulf of lost dream penitence

or a Gulf of ambiguity

to suffer in perpetuity

A mullet slaps the waves

in the land of the wet and the brave

in a land that cannot be paved

in a land that can still be saved

A black water snake is sunning

and a shrimper's engine's gunning

as the tides just keep on running

watch us run on kindness and cunning

in a land where nothing is wanting

Along a backwater mirror glass

a nursery for life from its source to the pass

where fresh and salt make fertile mishmash

the rare conditions for life in a clash

runs a rabbit through the cordgrass

with the hope this day won't be its last

as osprey circles the marsh

with an appetite that's harsh

but the rabbit is hungrier still

for life with her genius stubborn will

and today there'll be no kill

but for neither will time be standing still

and tomorrow will have its fill

from the rarest cougar to clouds of krill

for all with lung and sifting gill

with claw and longing and vital quill

in this land without a rock or hill

digesting petroleum's poison pill

because of a violently negligent spill

Oil is the salt in the wound of the ocean

the salt in the womb of The Gulf in motion

the Womb of Creation not some vague notion

The Gulf a womb of sacred devotion

pierced in its side its bleeding quotient

oil is the salt in the wound of the ocean

the salt in the womb of The Gulf in motion

- Transcribed by L. A. Piltz

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