It may not be in the news....

because it's the FORGOTTEN city...

But some of us can never forget

HENRY ROLLINS UNCUT: NEW ORLEANS
November 7th @ 10:30 E/P

Three years after the destruction of Hurricane Katrina, Henry Rollins ventures to New Orleans to examine the city's current condition first hand. Avoiding the tourist center, Henry is overwhelmed by the lack of progress being made in the surrounding areas. In his search for answers, Henry instead discovers a fresh slate of devastating problems that now threatens this community post-Katrina. Even as tourism approaches pre-storm levels, tens of thousands of residents find themselves dealing with the depression of a city still living with the wreckage of the levee's breach and now being victimized by a surge in violent crime.

Dressing Room, Sheffield October 08

The words of Bessie Smith

I love the old Blues players of yesteryear. They were wonderful storytellers with their songs of heartache, woe, secrets and pain so when I think of The Death Chair Confessions, I hear the voice of Bessie singing in my head.
It's a shame there is no footage of her singing this song but Dinah Washington sang it many years later. It doesn't have the same dark and gritty, soulful sound that was the great Bessie Smith but still.... here is Send Me To The 'Lectric Chair

Once in a while...

Unexpected and out of the blue, something happens that completely blows me away and this is one of those times.
I opened my inbox to find something very special waiting for me... a poem.
Written in response to The Death Chair Confessions. I know that the feedback has been very positive to this project so far and it's made a lot of people think but I never expected this... I really am at a loss for words so instead I'll post the words of another:

It’s just you and I in this eerie silence,
sick curiosity, slight resent.
Dare I move a little closer to you,
or sit staring with contempt.
Your posture strong yet arrogant,
and leather chains to bind.
A crown without the thorns you bare,
to place on a delirious mind.
What secrets do you hold within,
tales of evil, sorrow, regret.
Of many man who confessed their sin,
and in turn paid their debt.
How many prayed to heavens high,
forgiveness, pleas and song.
And how many prayed their innocence,
when the verdict served them wrong.
But I will not place myself upon your lap,
when you search for stories new.
For my closet bares no skeletons,
so neither friend nor foe are you.

-M.Hardy