I Come From

I come from clear blue skies and scorching sunlight.
I come from tea colored brittle patchy grass marked with white lines.
From sweat soaked pale white and red numbered jerseys.
From faces flowing sour rivers and lungs gasping for summers dry air pursued by screeching whistles.

I am from Downy fresh Friday night jerseys and gleaming stripped pants.
I come from grotesque lockers and funky charm underarms.
I am from pot-bellied stomachs bulging out of uniform and butt cracks showing.
I come from tightly held hands, bowed heads and reverent Our Father prayers.

I come from wide open doors, luminous lights, diamond dew grass, fresh air and cool breezes.
I am from thunderous charges of sparkling silver and crimson.
I am from the deafening shrill of breaking paper and screaming.
I come from rumbling drums, trumpets, ringing cowbells and chanting bleachers.

I come from the echo of helmets banging against walls, flying pads, and harshly yelled profane sentence fragments.
I am from veins popping, red eyes, bloody shirts, and fallen shoulders.
I come from wet salty tears and throbbing chests aches.
I am from complete silence and long dark solemn rides back home on squealing axles.


I come from rivaled clashes of crimson and gold.
I come from noisy pep rallies and decorated school corridors
I am from the aroma of hickory barbeque and sausages
I am from sweaty palms, churning stomachs, clinched fists and anticipated redemption.

I come from the sweet ticking down of rusty black scoreboards.
I am from high-pitched cheering voices and falling goal posts.
I am from stinging high fives, rib-gripping hugs, and ear piercing cries of joy.
I am from waterfalls of Gatorade and ice along with confetti falling rain.

I come from the sayings, We still believe and Winners never ever quit.
I come from a deep passion for brown and white-laced leather ball.
I am from an annual hometown tradition.
I am from brotherly love, shiny trophies, and heartfelt goodbyes.
I come from good times gone past and from even greater memories.



Street Dreams

Have your ears heard,
Nothing comes to a dreamer but a dream.
Without a sugar cone
Theres only dirty
Pecans, pralines, and cream
Without a holder,
Only lonely dreams
And so it seems
Nothing comes to dreamer,
But a dream!



Ghetto!!!

Ghetto is when you wanted change for a dollar and I gave you just you asked for,
One hundred pennies.
It is when my last month phone bill
Was a ten dollar calling card.
It is when my yard got nappy and needed to be mowed
And I just lit the yard on fire
It is when I was hungry
Didnt have enough to eat.
Had hamburger buns, but no hamburger meat.
Ketchup no Mustard
Collards no Greens.
Listened on the radio to Black and no Street
Call me ghetto
Cause thats just what I am
Just so you know
Ghetto could be, green eggs and ham
And Oooh whats that smell in the kitchen
Caviar and green candied yams?
See you know ghetto as sunny with no delight
Youre very wrong but that too is alright
You can go to Baskin Robins
For forty different flavors of ice cream
Ill be smart simply using Kool-Aid and ice cubes
Concocting ghetto cream
You keep on staring through your telescope at all of heavens stars
Ill be watching TNT, all those ghetto superstars
Please keep on going to sleep
And borrowing sandmans dreams
Cause Ill be having visions and great ideas.
Guess What?
Theyre Ghetto Dreams!