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
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