Thursday, September 25, 2014

When Grunge Hit I Was A Dirty White Boy

Kofi Fosu Forson

It smelled like teen spirit blond white boys with guitars grunge cool smoking Camels
Drinking coffee in cafes doing shots in bars chasing art girls wearing platform shoes
Danced to Dead Can Dance black rooms academic malaria reading American Psycho
Sat in circles listening songs by Freakwater Bill Faukner named after William Faulkner
Poet pajama prince walked around the roundabout Jesus freak Calvin Klein Botticelli
Met a girl he carried inside B C Rich leather case face porcelain delicate china white
Called it Red color that fell slid from atop down the neck over her shoulder's length

I choose my women like I choose my wine I choose my women like I choose my wine
I choose my women like I choose my wine I choose my women like I choose my wine

Cafe Heaven UNICE girls shared cigarettes cappuccino then came along Vickers Gringo
Sitting among dead beats old men Europeans from hell who crept from nearby hostel
Birds hung over high on caffeine sprawled on used sofas clouds of smoke everywhere
Graffiti art on walls bathroom stall cocaine fix pot heads urban hippies youth culture
Preppy high school girls elegant slipped under cover discussing politics sex and drugs
Medication nation Prozac Balzacs rock and roll geniuses looking for Black Rimbaud
African Charlie Chaplin whacked out Willy Wonka playing muse white girls white noise


Everything changed left neighborhood where stick up Spanglish corner bad boys
Ghetto gurus sold cigarettes by pack nurses and doctors went down hill to Bellevue
Run of the mill middle aged white families shopped for groceries Russian barber shops
Where black hoods gossiped bout murder it was here I grew up educated by Sisters
Catholic nuns who cussed into us we stood on stairwells compared knives made nookie
Slept for what seemed thousand years that Easter season outside my window two men
Fighting drawing blood pummeling each other greatest lesson I learned then of mankind

Escaped to The Heights streets lay wide hills bumped upward buildings stood isolated
Dominican men and women walked slowly like camera in a Jim Jarmusch film panning
Young girls hip luscious styling drug dealer boy toys hustling the drive byes gang bangs
Peculiar smell of haze filled walls winter's cold dragged pick pocket thieves seeking shelter
At home I escaped a scissor threat life threat physical threat cultural threat drug threat
Life unlike any I had ever felt hell it was struggle as days passed willed a hammer for survival
In my heart I built fist thick skin grew from the white washing of my soul into a new world

Standing in front of apartment building waiting for super white boy cross the street staring
Staring like hey you nigger boy what you doing out here yeah here this aint your alphabet city
Them uzis and heroin have been flushed down the toilet we live here now we can afford the rent
Was a hot summer's day when a man came up told me I needed a beat down this couldn't be
Chased punk girls on Saint Marks remember well when we used to see Keith Richards at the bars
Walked by a cafe south of Houston could not believe sea of white faces same places I used to sit
We were it passing through the streets now there's a gentler sound no rock and roll to be found

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