A Nuyorican I Be

Latin sound, Latín Sound Latin all around and upside down I search for you inside of me a Nuyorican's destiny The beat and rhythm, Is it in my blood? This Salsa is too spicy for me The language too fast The voices too rowdy And they gather, they always gather My father and his brothers, Pulling out the guitarra, maracas, güiro and congas and off they go trying to sound hip Daniel Santo escapes From My uncle's lips Papi songs along to Willie Colon and Mamie waits to do her impression of La Lupe. On Avenue D off the Triboro Bridge stands a prison made of bricks, it's metal stairs leading up to the 16th floor or more, My people walked on green pastures surrounded by multicolored flowers, laughing as they fed their Cows, Chickens, and Pigs now they stare at brick walls and climb up steel mountains they dwell in a box, no Sun, no Moon, no black skies filled with big bright shinning Stars in a stuffy crowded box, they sweat in despair remembering the hopes and dreams that called them there that tall and mighty woman standing on the ocean floor promised them a new life so they sit, work, hope, wait Tears mix with sweat in a stuffy crowded box - not home, just the projects! From my book - "The Big Apple Turns Brown When You Slice It" www.authorhouse.com