My
Hood
Two towers mark the hour
above a pair of golden steeples
The taste bittersweet at times down right sour
As I look down and my eyes devour
The scene below which is my peoples
Some profiling
Others just surviving
For a few it's a dam shame and sure enough a pity
But still, Energy grooves
As brown bodies move
To the pulsating rhythm of the city
As Souls collide
And coincide with the echo of the drums in the distance
Beats laid down and passed around
Tell us it is time to dance
Kinky heads
Shaken mahogany dreads
Young children of tupelo honey brown
Freckle faced Afros
Smiling as the breezes blow
the scents of champa from golden gate all the way downtown
Native tribes
Melt with African vibes
Creating a love supreme
Latina percussion
And harmonies rushin'
Through the veins
of an American dream
© 1995
Alexx Thompson
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