Earle Brown Poet Narrative

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.

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