How Do People Come Up

Don't Tell Me To Believe. Don't Tell Me To Believe In The Same God Or Laws That Men Believe In Who Commit These Murders. Don't Tell Me To Believe That God Can Bless This Country And That Men Are Judged By Their Peers. Who Among His Peers Judged Him? Was I There? Was The Minister There? Was Harry Williams There? Was Farrell Jarreau? Was My Aunt? Was Vivian? No, His Peers Did Not Judge Him, And I Will Not Believe.

When I'm Sitting In The Church Alone, I Can Hear Singing Of The Old People. I Can Hear Their Singing And I Can Hear Their Praying, And Sometimes I Hum One Of Their Songs.

And That's All We Are Jefferson, All Of Us On This Earth, A Piece Of Drifting Wood. Until We - Each Of Us, Individually- Decide To Become Something Else. I Am Still That Piece Of Drifting Wood, And Those Out There Are No Better. But You Can Be Better.

He Told Us That Most Of Us Would Die Violently, And Those Who Did Not Would Be Brought Down To The Level Of Beasts.

In All My Stories And Novels, No One Ever Escapes Louisiana. Maybe That Is Because My Soul Never Left Louisiana, Although My Body Did Go To California.