Tag Archives: US

140story – Yet Another

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I seem to have a theme running, and sometimes it twinkles.

As always, the site is miniaturestory.org, and it is wonderful. Always.

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NaPoWriMo Day 9 – We/You

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We took ourselves and in our image
created something more.
We took our limits and our flaws
we took our hatred and our love
and created something different
but close enough to home.
We wanted you to fight our battles
we wanted you to be
the things that we could not.
We made you orphans, exiles, rejects
because that was what we were.
We gave you magic, gave you science
gave you everything between.
We gave you names of power
because our words had failed.
We didn’t know how much we needed you
and we know you were never real
— and we still do.

But sometimes
we see past your coloured clothing
we see past your troubled starts
we see past your endless reboots
we see past your every frame
of every page in which
we gave you life.
And sometimes
we look up and hope to see
ourselves in you.

Lady sings the blues

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Black? Can’t you see?
Singer? Listen and you’ll see
Whore? Yes, I did that too
And I drink like four men
You don’t scare me, I’ve played in worse places than this
Southern cowboy bars where they spat on me
A city where a black man was lynched that same day
New Orleans where a fashionable devil
Brought me drug bouquets each night
Chicago I fell for a syphilitic trumpeter
And as I left the club they smashed my teeth
In the rain between one station and the next
Lady sings the blues

Black? Yes, but I’m used to it
Singer? Like a birdcage
Low and high notes, the whole range
I can flutter like those celluloid beauties
And then strike you with a ballad to the heart
You want strange fruit? You want midnight train?
I can sing it drunk
or with a knife in my back
or full of whisky and what else, I’m a saint
And my altar is here, this smoke, this stage
where lady sings the blues

Black? Yes, and beautiful, man
Singer? All I know how to do
Whore? Yeah, I did that too
And I drink like four men
Don’t touch me or I’ll rip that white face off you
Put down your drink, open what little heart you have
Shut up and listen – I sing
as though it was the last time
Shut up, bastards, and kneel
lady sings the blues

And as you go home say it
I heard an angel sing
wings of marble and satin
stench of whisky, sick black whore
Tell everyone my name, don’t forget
I am the ruler of a rag realm
I am the sun voice on the cottonfields
I am the black voice of light
I am the lady who sings the blues
Oh, and one more thing… I’m Billie
Billie Holiday

(Original Italian by Stefano Benni – Lady sings the blues)