I caught a case and they erased my face

Doin time for a crime that first happened in my mind

Couldn’t shake the feeling I needed to make a livin

Didn’t have time to think about the outcome was only looking for some income

Trying to put some money in my pocket

But instead got my finger stuck in the socket

Shocked and daze

Moving in a haze

Somebody call a doctor


I caught a case now I have no face

I’m just another dodo

Coming from the ghetto

With no other place to go

Tina Turner I need a hero

I need to find a way home

From this long hard road I’m on

My name I have one


But I caught a case and they erased my face

Here in this place I’m just another inmate

Eating out of a steel plate

Trying hard to keep my mind straight

Can some one call a doctor please?

I caught a case

Tel’em it’s me 009818

I caught a case

 By Louise Cutler   ©2011

Blk Pride

Posted: February 20, 2014 in Poetry, Uncategorized

Screams of the Blkman Screams of the Blkman

Artwork by Louise Cutler © 2014 Click to enlarge

Black Pride

Black Pride has gone and died

What remains is a shell

once our leaders fell

Black pride has chosen to hide

behind a mask of shame

trying to adopt a new name

Black pride has fallen aside

Because of hate of self

dumping past triumphs upon a shelf

Black pride has gone and died

leaving those who sacrificed

with a legacy of lunacy, accepted poverty and depravity

Black pride has chosen to hide

Too afraid to remember that

once, there was a rising, of those that were strong

those that were not afraid to stand up and say it loud

“I am black and I am proud”!

This was the mantra of the day

To be Young gifted and black was heard across the land

The marches and protest for freedom

bound a people together with a common goal

but once the leaders were taken, we fell back into the old

Hands out, in full surrender to the system that has bound us,

Becoming willing participates in our own demise.

Blk pride has gone and died

Satisfied with the crumbs that fall from the governmental table

even though our men are well able

to work and earn a living and be free

We chose a life of poverty and enslavement to a system

Allowing ourselves to become trust fund bums of the state

and food stamp junkies

like rats in a maze awaiting the next graze

Black pride you no longer have to hide

Stand up and provide for your family’s with pride

Your sons and daughter are in need of you

No longer are you just the master’s breeder

Stand and be your family’s leader, provider, and example

Black pride you must decide

Whether to lead or to follow

to be filled or be hollow

whether your children will sell drugs as beggers on the street

and end up imprisoned for lack of what you have to teach

Black pride don’t let our children fall to the side

like waste in the street with no food to eat

being a mockery because of poverty

By Louise Cutler ©2014

Click link below for updates to “The Screams of Blkman” Exhibition

Screams Of the blkman

Image  —  Posted: February 10, 2014 in Uncategorized

Scream of a blkman

Posted: February 10, 2014 in Poetry
Tags: , , ,


Screams of a blk man


Scream blk man scream

Scream until they have heard everything

Scream for your justice

Scream for your rights

Scream until you have climbed the highest heights

Scream for your daughters

Scream for your sons

Scream against poverty until there is none

Scream in the midst of challenges

Scream in the midst of pain

Scream for your children for they have much to gain

Hold your tongue for nothing

But hold your head with pride

Hold your ground with dignity until you have reached the other side


Scream blk man scream

Scream until they have heard everything.

Scream through the darkness

Scream through the rain

Scream when you feel you have no one else to blame

Scream when you are happy

Scream when you are hurt

Scream for the right to show your self worth

Scream for your homes

Scream for your schools

Scream against any unjustifiable rules

Scream through your prison cells

Where you are left to rot

Scream out your loudest yell

Cry out within the night


Scream blk man scream

Scream until they have heard everything.

Scream against charges that leave you no hope

Scream against the young man in your neighborhood selling dope

Scream for all the children that have fall by the way

Through the cracks of our street where there is no room for them to play  

Scream for your family

Scream through your fears

Scream alone in the shadow where no one else can hear


Scream blk man scream

For your journey is long

Scream blk man scream

Til you find your way home.

By louise Cutler © 2010



The Bagel

The boy’s laundry was overflowing in their hamper; there were dishes still in the sink and the house looked as if it had blown up the night before. Things were everywhere, but I had to get to the store. My grocery list was not long it merely said bagels.

I always kept bagels about the house on account of a certain little person, Andrew. Andrew loved bagels. He preferred then to any other food. They were easy for him to manage. He knew exactly where to find them at all times and he could get them all by himself without anyone’s help. This made him feel like a big boy.  However I didn’t discover until late last night that we were out, which meant, NO BAGELS FOR THE MORNING! The last time this happened Andrew decided to throw a protest right there in the kitchen. His army of stuffed animals and robots lined the floor surrounding the refrigerator as a notice of complaint. Some held misspelled signs that read, unfir trement of sx yer old. Other signs read, how r we to fed o slf. You could hear Andrew calling out to his troops, “Hold the line, or she will try to feed us something else”; a morning to remember.

We did, however, make it through that morning. I would say after about an hour or so both sides reached an agreement, that is, once one side got too hungry to continue on.  They both found that toast, turkey-bacon and an apple were a pretty OK substitute. Seeing his older brother eating a very good helping of cereal and milk did help negotiation. I was, however, warned never to let this happen again or I could face some sort of coat mar-shield.

So upon finding that there were no bagels in the house I would have to go out early the next morning before Andrew and the others awakened and get some. Not for fear of a revolt. No. I rather enjoyed encouraging my younger son’s independence. I could see it more and more with his growing desire to be like his big brother. I found that his bagel breakfast was the one thing he could almost do completely by himself. Unless he wanted it cut in half and toasted.

Bagels were his meal of choice. The boys got at least two meals of choice during the week and one or two on the weekends, depending on who was making breakfast, Mom or Dad. But then again bagels could also be eaten as an after school snack, a before meal treat, an on the go bit, or just to have something to eat while reading. As you can see bagels are big around our house.

Had I known we were out I could have picked some up earlier, maybe. Now it’s too late. Well it really wouldn’t have mattered if I had stopped to get them while I was out. The bagels we like are usually gone by 12:00 pm anyway; what a bother.

You see, it’s not that I don’t like going to the store for bagels, it’s just I have to go so early for them. Here’s the thing. The cinnamon raisin bagels we prefer are only at one grocery store in town, and they only make a certain amount each day, five, so if you’re not there first, them you are out of luck. That is, until the next day. They only make five a day. FIVE. CAN YOU BELIEVE THAT! So if they put them out at 5:00 in the morning and someone came in at 5:01 and took all five. That was it for the day.  GONE. No more for the day. Can you imagine rushing to the store after dropping off the kids at school, get to the store, and they’re, gone or maybe they’d be just one. Ahhhhh! Yes this has happened to me so many times before. I would arrive at the store right after drop off, while it’s still early, make my way to the bread section to secure the bagels before shopping for other items on my list. It’s not even passed 9:00, a.m. and they would be gone. Sometimes all but one would be left, but most of the time none.  I would stand there and think, hey, what about the rest of us. THE WORLD NEEDS MORE THEN FIVE BAGELS! What are they trying to start, a bagel frenzy?  Who were these people that put a limit on bagels for the day. Would this send the price of bagels up with such a limited supply? Will people start auctioning them on eBay or selling them on Craig’s list? Extreme . . . I know. Well at this point I was convinced that there is at least one other person in town that was set on beating me to those bagels every morning, or at least every other morning. Why I was sure of it. I often stood at the empty cinnamon and raisin section wondering what that underhanded, bagel stealing, disobliging person looked like. And how could I find him/her. Was there a bagel lover’s website where bagel lover’s could share their love of bagels? Maybe a cable network station “For The Love Of Bagels,” that was all about bagels and the people who love them, where they let you call in, a bagel blog for bagel bloggers or maybe a bagel support group here in town where bagel loving people meet and share their tragic bagel stories . . . I don’t know I’m just reaching.

At this point I was desperate. WHO WAS THIS OTHER PERSON THAT SOMEHOW OFTEN BEAT ME TO THE BAGELS? It’s wasn’t like the store was down the street from my house and I could just go there anytime I wanted.  No. The best time for me to go was right after drop off.  This way I could stop there on my way back home. It was in my direct path, my route. Drop off the kids, stop at the store, pick up bagels and other needed items, and back home, done, the perfect morning.

Well today I was determined to get those bagels. I would get to the store first. I’ll just go before drop off. All I have to do is get up before anyone is awake in the house, even my husband. I would need to be back before he left for work. I could make it to the store just as they were putting the bagels out for the morning, take four, and courteously leave one behind for the next person, unlike some people. Why, I could possibly get back without anyone knowing I had left or that we were ever out of bagels?  Hmmm. All I had to do now was get up. It’s 4:00, A.M.. If I get up now I would for sure get the bagels first. They are probable just pulling them out of the oven. Hmmm. No one in the house would be awake for at least another two hours. Now, if I just got up?

By Louise Cutler © 2011 All Right Reserved

The Council 2 

The Council oil on canvas by Louise Cutler

I am not quite sure, what it was, all I know is one night while preparing for sleep I was caught off guard by a faint sound. This sound was somewhat familiar yet I couldn’t place it. However it wasn’t until I noticed a faint aroma creeping up though the sheeting fabric that I begin to become suspicious. It trailed up through the bedding as if on an assault mission, traveling through an intricate maze, following the patterns of folds and creases with precision. As it moved closer I began to detect its familiar characteristic, this was definitely something I had encountered before. As I glanced over at my husband my suspicions were confirmed for upon his face he wore a most exultant grin.

By Louise Cutler © 2011 All Right Reserved

Thursday Aug 29th, I witnessed a travesty of justice, a farce if you will, boys having to wear pink shirts in support of a cause most of them have no clue as to what they are supporting, or care about at this point, even if they were told. So my question is how are they supporting?

They’re not, it’s a sham, someone has discovered the breast cancer cash cow and now they are milking it. Wearing a pink shirt is not a show of support for breast cancer, especially if you are wearing it out of duty or guilt. It mocks the cause. Pink Breast Cancer Awareness shirts are here to make women aware of breast cancer. Boys do not have breast, and guess what, they are aware of it. How many parents are talking to their 9,10,11, or12, year old sons about breast cancer? Most haven’t even talked to their daughters.

My sons’ first encounter with the pink shirt demon was in grade school. They were told they had to wear them for a school event in support of breast cancer awareness. At this point neither of my boys were aware of what cancer was. The school did not supply any further understanding of this cause to the children that wore the shirts. FARCE. My boys chose not to, some classmates told them they were not being team players. I personally do not want my children blindly following anything without questioning the motives behind it. If my children do not wish to wear pink they shouldn’t have to. Boys have rights, just as girls. It seems the scales of our society has become out of balance in the last few years with the whole over-the-top women’s equality. Not only do we want to be equal, we want to prove we are better. So in the process of proving we’re better we have resolved to victimize our boys. And the fathers instead of defending their son’s right have decided to take a back seat.

I am writing this because yet again the UGLY PINK BEAST CANCER MALE DEVOURING SHIRT DEMON has reared her head. This time on my son’s sports team. Really, is there no end to this PINK shirt insanity! My son was to wear a PINK shirt in support of breast cancer awareness for a full month. Wouldn’t it have been better to donate this money to fund research? Trust me, this is how some women with breast cancer feel. They are tiered of everyone making money off their illness in the name of support. Besides, what exactly does forcing a group of boys to wear PINK shirt prove. That society can make boys wear PINK? What’s next a tutu? BOYS SPORTS TEAMS SHOULD NOT HAVE TO ENDURE SUCH LUNACY.

So I have decided unless there is a universal prostate cancer awareness brown jock strap day where girls have to wear brown jock straps over their shorts my sons will not be wearing PINK shirt in support of beast cancer awareness. It’s ridiculous to make boys wear PINK, unless they want to. And I am tired of people saying real men wear PINK. Real men wear whatever they want. I am happy to say my son went to practice today and didn’t have to wear a pink shirt.

Side note I am very much aware of male breast cancer.