Southern trees bear a strange fruit Blood on the leaves and blood at the root Black bodies swingin’ in the Southern breeze Strange fruit hangin’ from the poplar trees
Pastoral scene of the gallant South The bulgin’ eyes and the twisted mouth Scent of magnolias sweet and fresh Then the sudden smell of burnin’ flesh
Here is a fruit for the crows to pluck For the rain to gather For the wind to suck For the sun to rot For the tree to drop Here is a strange and bitter crop
My 2 cents –
I hate the direction American politics have taken lately. I feel like the songs from the past are relevant again. Though the topic was not a good one, Billie Holiday had a gorgeous voice and made the song seem like such a beautiful thing. I am leaning into the older blues and jazz music lately…Because it seems to be relevant again…and that make me sad.
okay it’s Monday night and I am not feeling well. I only got today’s post scheduled yesterday due to a migraine. today I am finding myself fighting with a head cold in subfreezing temps. I will try to get posts up as I am able this week but I don’t want to promise that I will be able . Tuesday is not going to be having a post . I am going to try to get Wednesday and the rest up .
Lost memories seem to weave the idea of grief into daily life, speeding the thoughts through the loom making the blanket of heaviness to weigh on the mind.
Perhaps forgetting is better, a feather instead of stone... the moment left alone when the weight is less on the shoulders than Atlas knows.