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‘Treme’ Season 2 Teaser Is All Poetic

By / 04.18.11

Here’s the extended version of the newest teaser for Season 2 of HBO’s “Treme.” It features New Orleans resident Gian Smith reciting a portion of his poem “O Beautiful Storm” while the camera cuts to scenes in the coming season (which premieres this Sunday). Leave it to the stubbornly intellectual David Simon to advertise his show with a poem. “So, Mr. Simon, shall we highlight some of the dramatic tension and action in the coming season?” “No no no, I’ve hired this local troupe of mimes to act out the bureaucratic red tape in the aftermath of Katrina. It may not get us more viewers, but at least it’s honest.”

Full text of “O Beautiful Storm” below. Despite my joking, it’s actually pretty badass. You know, for a poem. (Not quite as badass as a tattoo of Byron’s “The Destruction of Sennacherib,” but what is?)

This comes via a profile on Smith in the Times-Picayune:

“O Beautiful Storm,”

By Gian Smith

I got the Rain in my veins…

The flood water in my blood makes my heart beat harder.

I’ve got the scent of the death and decay in the wind

Sinking into my nose and under my skin.

She’s the music in my ears, and the mold in my soul.

Move with her like bellies to congo drums

Write a sonnet to her, serenade her, recite her a poem.

Bump her like sissy bounce or mellow into her like Marsalis.

Let her weave through your brain like a song has moved you

And you can stop the flow…

But don’t let her go.

Last night, on my knees I scrubbed and scrapped

Katrina from the tiles of a house that would one day

Belong to my kids who’d have no idea there was a remain

Underneath the sofa, I had purposefully not wiped away.

Cause while Hugo and Andrew talked a good game

In the end all they did was ride the Gulf to the lake

And kick up a few waves and make a few trees shake

But Katrina had foresight and long term goals.

Bear her like ungratifying child labor of a stillborn

Answer to her, embrace her. Make passionate, steamy love to her til you moan.

Let her consume you on holidays and special events

Not meant to be spent alone.

Do what you must, but don’t let her go.

She’s Death’s greatest stage

She’s the 11th plague

She’s five men dead in a truck from a murderous rampage.

There is no fury like her rage hell bent.

The apocalypse heaven sent.

A city’s extinction level event.

She’s men’s residence changing homes,

Chickens coming home to roost again.

She’s man exalting science as defense

From God, being overthrown

She’s the perfect combination of wind, neglect

And Amir’s criminals in City Halls and black robes

Whose Congressional bills pass at levees expense,

Whose gavel smacks smash homes and crack domes.

Beat her to let her know you care.

Hate her on the streets in front of your friends for show.

Love her behind closed doors at home.

She’s a summer rain, a gentle breeze blown,

And an infamous name that our hearts now own.

O’ beautiful storm, I won’t let you go.


TAGSdavid simonHBOTreme

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