Mr. Africa Poetry Lounge!

Old Stomp Grounds

I break out.
I break out to get down
in old stomp grounds
to see my peoples,
back in the day peoples
used to be family
but now long ago friends
that I get with
to reminisce.

I crack open the cast mold
of who I am
to enter into and remember
back in the day
who I was
and how far I have come.
My life now,
is a sanitized life
of proper speech,
proper etiquette
and proper ways of being.
In my drive home through
clean streets,
I pass expensive SUVs,
view manicured lawns
and fixed up homes
where people never seem to be.

When I get back to my old stomp grounds within the gritty city
my pulse thumps
bringing life and peace back into me.
Brown skinned peoples
are cooked in different shades,
beautiful brown eyes, full lip mouths,
wide body hips,...afros, fades,...
bobbing heads, swaying
to hip hop and bass beats.

Flavor is in the air
everywhere, all around,
filled with a cacophony of sounds;
beeps, horns, yells and shout outs.
Streets are littered,
with flying colors of debris.
People clustered close
yet I feel a sense of calm,
a sense of peace in this rhythmic ruckus -
sounds and sights of life bro.

Written by AlaKing


Mr. Africa Poetry Lounge