THE MYSTERIOUS DEEP
THE MYSTERIOUS DEEP
Ricardo Antonio Garcia
Roots in the bayou mysteriously twine
with a woman of an earthly design
cracking a whip on the horses
traveling on a road in New Orleans.
Pheasants of God we are
uprooting from the lair of wealth
for the deceptions pass
oversees the doom beneath its wake.
Mulatto woman, stitching yarn
she loves me with the purest intent of heart
sacrificing her hours
with her toiling hands of sweat equity.
Resting against her bosom
the night never slept as deeply as I
always at thirst for her.
She moves as the wooden wheels turn
impacting the sudden rocks
and trolleys her glorious swaying body
enduring the ride to a Cajon abyss.
Fish in the river we shall eat
and mosquitoes buzzing
we’ll chase away with our sifting hands.
Her perfect charms- crested, in my eyes
she’s such a glorious woman.
Fiddles and banjos fill the air
fingers curl her hair
separated from the cries of the big city
her maiden face is pure and divine.
The journeys bending road
counted the hours before we made love
and the minutes in the day
THE MYSTERIOUS DEEP (continued)
Ricardo Antonio Garcia
never led us astray.
Cajun Momma.. you ‘re fine as can be
pollinating the South Wind
with our heroic thirst
we are almost living the dream.
Into the river the baited hook …
will lead us far into the mysterious deep …
Ricardo Antonio Garcia
Roots in the bayou mysteriously twine
with a woman of an earthly design
cracking a whip on the horses
traveling on a road in New Orleans.
Pheasants of God we are
uprooting from the lair of wealth
for the deceptions pass
oversees the doom beneath its wake.
Mulatto woman, stitching yarn
she loves me with the purest intent of heart
sacrificing her hours
with her toiling hands of sweat equity.
Resting against her bosom
the night never slept as deeply as I
always at thirst for her.
She moves as the wooden wheels turn
impacting the sudden rocks
and trolleys her glorious swaying body
enduring the ride to a Cajon abyss.
Fish in the river we shall eat
and mosquitoes buzzing
we’ll chase away with our sifting hands.
Her perfect charms- crested, in my eyes
she’s such a glorious woman.
Fiddles and banjos fill the air
fingers curl her hair
separated from the cries of the big city
her maiden face is pure and divine.
The journeys bending road
counted the hours before we made love
and the minutes in the day
THE MYSTERIOUS DEEP (continued)
Ricardo Antonio Garcia
never led us astray.
Cajun Momma.. you ‘re fine as can be
pollinating the South Wind
with our heroic thirst
we are almost living the dream.
Into the river the baited hook …
will lead us far into the mysterious deep …
