Poetry and Prose from the Center for Writers
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* WINNER, POETRY *
Where I’m From
by MARCUS BROWN
Black fists raised, while singing Marvin Gaye
A mother’s fat lips talk as her wide hips sway
Smoking ribs on the grill for this beautiful day
As my grandpa listens to what Marvin has to say
But around the corner Tupac blares from a speaker
“Dear Mama” is drowned out by the loud smell of reefer
And the ghetto slang being sang from the streets
Seemingly in rhythm with the bang of the beats
Is like music to the ears, taking me back to my early years
When attraction for a girl could bring her to tears
As I pushed her down and called her a name
Just to kiss her scar when I realized her pain
Chain fences, good neighbors, with the mug of a killer
Became beautiful in my sight as I aged and got bigger
As my white peers pressured me, “thugs” lectured me
Saw potential in a young black kid, and protected me
I feel more love in the ghetto than I feel in the suburbs
More beauty in the women than a flock of singing birds
And Black Panthers of the past can still be heard
If you would only take a moment to listen to their words
On the corners and sidewalks that people call the street life
Where brothas ease their souls to the hum of the street lights
And the sweet smell of sess on weekends and weeknights
Constantly remind me of who I should try to be like
Even though their eyes were red, I listened when they said,
“You can go to college young blood or be like us instead.”
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