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Atlantis II Revisited.

Updated on December 30, 2009


Atlantis II Revisited


They sit in the squalor

of New Orlean's undoing,
long after the squalls

of Katrina set free,
the souls of so many

from this stark ghostly ruin,
only holes in rooftops

note a few escapees.

A Waterlogged stench

permeates these fine quarters,
not French, but a caging place

where blues were sung,
as the sea levels rose,

and their air space grew shorter,
in the attics and crawlspaces

where victims clung.

Now they stand as a

testament to nature's fury,
deathly traps for many

small dreams as tiny tots drowned
in the arms of their moms

with no place left to scurry,
noses pressed to the ceilings,

with a gurgling sound.

Imagine the horror of

an attic descending,
several inches each

minute till a bubble of air,
left a few gasps of hope,

till there was no pretending,
so you swallowed death whole,

and were no longer there.

All over New Orleans

I viewed devastation,
saw the spray painted marks

and the dates for the dead
while the shells of their homes

still await re-creation,
I propose we leave some

as a warning instead.

Don't rely on the higher ups

to come and save you,
only God has that power,

man's imperfect at best,
And a hurricane's power

is nothing to brave through,
many tried and then failed....

laid forever to rest.






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