“Glory to Yazoo City”

Glory to Yazoo City
the raging fights in open streets
the police
try to stop them
before it is to late

Glory to the trees
grown tall
to high leaves
to the ground that is covered
with green

Glory to children
playing outside the house
by grandaddies house
their throwing and running
causing commotion
and their parents get
mad when you say
Get off my grass.

Glory to the elders,
the nice-elders
the mean-elders
the church-goers
the story-tellers,
the passer on of all things

What’s good nigha
get over here and get on yo knees,
mane you better ride out with that.

Glory to cooks
who learned from their mothers
the beignets, the boudin,
pizza, hot winds, coka cola,
the breadsticks with marinara sauce.

Glory to shame
the robbing and stealing
and breaking and stealing
what a shame how they play their games.
Glory to tornadoes
to stories and lives,
and hungry eyes
to floods and trees
taking lives.

With hearts racing to the
beats, give disgrace and dishonor
most low prasise
to rap
to the tap played in cars
to rap heard from the tub, from rooms,
ten-year-old alarms

Glory be to the blues
from a southern woman’s heart.

Glory to the cold,
freezing in the breezes
to cold night with aire you
can feel

Glory to the heater,
to keep us ward
childhoods under covers, under
heaters

Give all the glory to the
littleset places
the messiest children
the stolen cars
the way the fights end up
the lovers cheating on eachother
you you say it outloud.

Yazoo City

By : Decora Brown