Janx spirits

Look at the skies here 

They glow some dull crimson colour 

almost like rusty blood 

almost 

it's the methane in the lights 

that lights up the sky in that way 

from all the warehouses and docks and street lights 

down here 

never really is quite like night 

pull up closer to the fire 

it'll keep you warm 

don't be so shamefaced 

you're on skid row, no where left to fall 

heh heh 

you've hit rock bottom man 

no where to go from here but up 

well or six feet under I guess 

in a potters field 

a numbered stone for your marker 

covered in weeds and easily forgotten 

trampled and sat upon by teenage kids 

drinkin' and smokin' some crack 

then goin' back to their white bred upper class 

big homes 

I remember long summer nights 

in Alabama 

sittin' with my granddad sittin' by the fire 

roastin' marshmallows, spittin' that backy 

into that roaring blaze, listening to it crackle

speakin' of listenin'

you've never heard such a racket 

all the crickets all the nightbirds 

wailin' up a storm 

and the night animals, like coons and bobcats 

breakin' branches just outside the ring of light 

that fire gave us 

and the lonesome call of the coyote's howl at night 

and that lonesome call of the coyote's howl at night 

--it echoed, even in those woods 

there's stars and celebrities here with us 

some men that thought they were successful 

in doin' all that stuff that they did 

reached the top, pinnacle of the pile 

it came all topplin' down 

now they sit across from me 

cardboard box for a home 

bottle of cheap gin for their comfort 

not me 

I came from nothin' 

now I got nothin' 

nothin' really ever changed does it? 

Alabama to Jersey, small journey really 

it took about 60 years of my life 

now I sit here, now I sit here 

starin' blankly at your cameras 

doin' your interview for you 

tellin' you what it's like to be homeless 

so an unknown benefactor to me can reach into his deep pockets 

toss a few coins my way 

and I buy myself another bottle of them old spirits 

that old janx spirits 

that old janx spirits 

what my ma used to sing 

when she took a swig from the jug 

when we sat out on that old wooden porch 

fannin' the mosquitoes away 

late evening summer sun 

talkin' and singin' and drinkin' 

after the days work was through 

what did I do? 

What do you do? 

You film your documentary 

look at each of us, talk to each of us 

then cut and feature only the saddest and most efficient parts 

make sure you get a close up of my rottin' teeth 

milky white of my cataracts 

What did I do? 

We were farmers 

until I decided I'd come to the city 

make my own way 

I'd made my own way 

straight down to the gutter 

straight down to the pits 

now I'm tired 

goin' to go to sleep 

when I wake up I'll still be here 

when I sleep 

I'll dream of tobacco sheds dryin' in the heat 

and mosquitoes and granddad and ma and janx spirits 

and black skies 

where you can see the stars

--william paris