Street Lights

Born of a woman who was already colored,

And feeling alone,

She was raised in a single parent household,

An old paradigm in their family,

Men dropping in and out,

She birthed a baby now…

And with him,

She recreates the colored images that plays when he closes his eyes to get some rest.

One night he stood outside,

In the middle of the crosswalk,

Staring at the traffic light change colors,

The ruby light is so vibrant at night,

It lights up the tar,

In a kinky kind of way,

A real color man can see afar off,

Wondering if his people ever admired its beauty,

Actuality defines the world like a traffic light,

It was a thought,

Now it lives,

Love keeps you up at night, Like a dream deferred, Running through a field of wisteria, The purple lingers awhile in the mind, As the grass turns into pavement, Busy sidewalks in the city,

Trying to find his own way, He lost sight of his mother’s home for awhile,

Meeting strangers along the way, While searching for fuel to start a fire, And thread to crochet a hat, Making it through all weather conditions, And possible evictions, Despite his intrusive thoughts, The years quickly add on,

Gray hair begins to appear, Stress upsets the belly.

One night he stood outside,

In the middle of the crosswalk,

Staring at the traffic light change colors,

The ruby light is so vibrant at night,

It lights up the tar,

In a kinky kind of way,

A real color man can see afar off,

Wondering if his people ever admired its beauty,

Actuality defines the world like a traffic light,

It was a thought,

Now it lives,

Under this street light,

He is looking for something to leave behind,

That lingers his last name, Boosts his children’s ego..Within the world, His imagination is broken,

But back at home near his family, He is the smartest, Knows how to survive there, Nothing but hugs and kisses, People wishing him well with sincerity…

Under this street light,

Trying to make sense of this image, From this moment in time, With a different belief, Than reality simply tells. Just an image of a colored man, Admiring a traffic light, Wanting to be like another colored man, Who has left something behind, That makes people wonder, Who was his mother?

Under this street light,

As he recreates the colored images that plays, when he closes his eyes to get some rest.

These poor man hymns carry more truth in their worn-out melodies than a rich man will ever know,

These poor man hymns rise from the dust and linger longer than gold-plated prayers ever will,

These poor man hymns carry more truth in their worn-out melodies than a rich man will ever know,

These poor man hymns rise from the dust and linger longer than gold-plated prayers ever will,

Listen to this southern classic,

When days feel long,

MAN, go home and rest your soul,

There you’ll find who you are,

And who you don’t want to be.

Just believe in yourself, encourage yourself [Repeat 6x]