Beware Of Those Old, Red, Dirt Roads

In the deep red clays of Georgia
once bled by Confederate pride
and mixed together with some Union blood
In a vast scarlet blood tide.

Lie Brothers who fought against brothers 
and Fathers who fought against sons
claiming over twenty-five thousand dead 
before the sorrow all was done.

And that the red clay got much redder
Mingled with their salted tears
preserved deeply in the soil
long past one hundred years.

They say these fallen men still walk
down roads that have been cleared
through the edges of their battlefields
where their sad spirits appear.

I know this because I’ve seen them
in the wee hours of the night
On the red dirt roads I’ve traversed
It’s a  haunting, terrible sight…

As my spinning, tire’s noise disturbs
their long and weary sleeps
setting scarlet dust devils rising
from their cold bones moldering deep

In a civilized world unlike their own
callously encroaching  on
hallowed places where brave men, unknown
once were here and then were gone

Often I find myself just praying
that my truck will not break down
or a tire  suddenly blow out
where their souls still walk around

Stuck amongst their vast battalions
Cause ya see I was born a Yankee
and they just might not take kindly
to my heritage….they’d be angry

That I’m riding down the back roads
to deliver my next loads
eighteen wheels crushing their bloodlines
from their war so long ago.

I’m quite sure that I might vanish
If my truck should fail on me
and I’d become their prisoner
trapped with them  eternally.

Like a spy most likely I’d be tried
for the wars not ove.... in their minds
as thier enemy they’d not fancy me
and all the State Troopers would find
 
Is my empty tractor-trailer
broken down, my cab door open
parked haphazardly, on a  red dirt road 
another mystery with no closing.

They say the South will rise again
and on certain nights they do
so you best avoid those red dirt roads
lest the Rebels get you too!

Cause I do believe the ravishing
of sacred battlefields
can stir up sorrows worse than death
not meant to be revealed

In scarlet red dust devils
that raise the ghosts of men
who think their war must still be fought
as their south rises again.

And you can’t convince a spirit
that you meant no harm when you
left tonnage ruts right across their graves
you will become one of them too.

Even freeway often run askew
across the battlefields they knew,
don’t disturb their graves 
or you’ll pay their dues.
as a gray ghost wailing
as a gray ghost wailing 
their endless blues. 
their endless blues
endless blues.


Vocals & Lyrics by Matthew F. Blowers III
Art~Whimsically Yours Studio ©-2020
Stellar music  composed and played by- 
Re-Evolution Café Orchestra-©-2020
Iamge from History's pages @pixybay.com

" Beware Of Those Red, Dirt Roads. "-by-Re-Evolution Cafe Orchestra & M. F. Blowers III

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The Hollow-Days Of Addiction.
(A Christmas message for all )

Christmas has come back again
For the third year in a row
And we haven't seen 
our precious son
Ever since he had to go
To jail then off to rehab
Then violating 
two probation's
the court ordered no contact
So we've had no conversations
Cause he'd abused 
his Mom so much
Leaving her soul terrified
and came after me so angrily
Every time that he got high
we both tried in 
every way we could
But then we had to say goodbye....


Christmas on drugs and alcohol 
Was never a good mix
Hanukkah plus cruel addictions
Just brings candle sadly lit
Santa Claus and faith in God
Are not enough to bring a fix
Only he can save himself
No one else can heal his needs
That have made both our hearts bleed
while he spends his hollow days
Struggling to find ways to succeed.


He'll spend another Christmas
In sober living all alone
Far away from both his parents
Knowing that he can't come home
And it cuts us deeply to the bone
Cause our tough love is no fun
But drugs and alcohol have stolen
Our most precious son
Until he proves that he is cured
and his addictions are all done.

So if you too are like our son
Suffering the same afflictions
I hope this poem moves you to flee
Back to the true life 
you've been missing
Because those who 
love you can't survive
Living with the endless friction
Of your lies and thefts 
And thier hopes left swept
Underneath your opposition
Your loved ones all must separate
themselves from your positions
Of your loving highs even as they cry
Over your tragic conditions
Leaving you alone 
while they sit at home
Praying for you and each one wishing
That you will give all that you've lost
Some serious recognition
Before you end up lying 
Under a marble inscription
that leaves them all 
Without your love
Another victim of addiction
so many others just like you 
Have faced Death's Benedictions....



By- Matthew F.Blowers III-(C)-2022
at Art-Whimsically Yours Studio
This poem is dedicated to ny son,
my only child who has been 
through his fault alone absent from
my wife and I for 3 years 
without contact

Re-Evolution Cafe' Orchestra is an multimedia, sound and art project, featuring sonic canvasses and videos for your perusing: "eclectic musings" and "musical disambiguation", sometimes with lyrical commentary, sometimes not even a mere word. Near an unassailable flow, memory re-asserts its musicality.

Life forms commanded by code and intuition.
All code can be hacked!
Re-invent your paradigms.
Hack into your code.
Re-define who you are.
This is a yoga, 
this is you... 
Re-Evolution Cafe' Orchestra.
Always open to collaborations:

Hey, I'm Sophie and I Create music in my spare time! I would like to think that they are half-Decent but tell me what you think :)

Perfect Peace!
Perfect harmony!
Perfect love!