Days Down College Road
I’ve wrestled with devil in blue grass.
That college that picks pockets
and helps itself to damsels’ purses
fixed nooses just off seventy-five south,
over Clay-way Bailey.
The viaduct that divides two states
divides thieves from Potter Stewart’s Court House.
I refused to march the underground rail road;
a black man rules the white house.
The dean,
like Mathilda’s Trunchbull,
is as mean as salt on back of barn toad;
she lifted con from condescending.
I relished reflection of her
standing stiff like light pole,
frozen by the return from her calling the school “the company”
They were to give me what I pay for,
but madam flying high on stilettos
was too uppity to climb down and meet me.
Requests made were called controversies,
but to me it was freedom,
and I (pusher of this pen) was on battlefield
with Jamaican fire.
A competent crook cover ass with alibis,
and you should never be seen as obstacles …
If you are ***** and alone walk with caution,
but not so with me;
I should live Luther’s dream,
‘cause I own college road.
It was my journey.
I stood stout,
like Michael,
to cast the devil out.
With Obama fueling *******,
I wonder why Sam is blind
to the now white-collar crime?
I sure hope there are copycats up college road.
Copyright © Earle Brown | Year Posted 2011
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