read an older poem of mine and wanted to write a song inspired by it.
July 11, 2021.

hillfolk blues

Iím canning my rage
like my granny canned peppers and green beans
Iíve got picklin salt in my wounds
and Iím hoping I get better with age

Iím breaking off like crumbing mountain tops
So many layers, so much to say
I carry coal and slate over my back
and Iím crushing under the weight

Hillfolk blues
Iím tossing and stuffin my shoes
Slicker than water and bulletproof

Hillfolk blues
I pay respect to death and pull out of the way
because it comes in threes
and even if the bible claims that they canít kill the spirit,
Iíd like to keep the pink on my face

I saw a butterfly in the dark, just the other day
The omen is cooking on a cast iron pan
and if the good lordís willing and the creek donít rise
Iíll wake up tomorrow morning living out of pure spite

Iím canning my sorrow cause I feel weak
Saving my tears for a later time
My nerves have been shot and the darkness is covering me
The mine roof has fell in and my lungs are in agony

Poetry by aidan haskel
Read 119 times
Written on 2021-07-11 at 08:26

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Powerful and alive. As always.

josephus The PoetBay support member heart!
Great writing, Aidan!

Jamsbo Rockda The PoetBay support member heart!
I like this! Great imagery in metaphors.