Its summertime a repost, nothing changed so why write some thing new

Whew
In the summertime
When the weather is fine
Ya right
You knew it was coming
The summer scream
Well here it is
I knew it was summer
When I was awakened by the sound
Of those damn flip-flops
Shuffling down the street
Singing
Brazil Brazil
What do I have to complain about?
Lets see
I am a black guy living amongst
Non blacks
Exotic right
A dream
The food
The smells
The music
Yea right
The food
Look my father could cook some ribs
I like vinegar and hot sauce on my ribs
Salt and lemon aint getting it for me
The smells
Hundreds of illegals
Huffing and puffing down the various streets
Smelling of the trenches
Of tar, and grass
And of every job that we high and mighty Americans
Won't take
Smelling of boo's
Of loneliness
Pay 30 bucks
And the cab company will
Drop you off a prostitute
 From South America
Home and loneliness
And exploitation

No
It aunt what you think
It's not that snippy little sting tune
That goes some thing like………………
You drink coffee
I drink tea my dear
I'm an Englishman
In New York
It's a dirty brown Mexican
Song
 From Newark
The heat
I feel like tattoo
 From fantasy island
Most days
On a beach
In a hot suit
Staring up at the sky
And shouting out our
The plane the plane
No the summer sucks
The smells
Lets see
In Jamaica
When you over looked Kingston
You could see the smoke
 From the fragrant jerk pits
The reefer and the music
Here
The smoke
Someone house is on fire
The smell…well
It's all of the damn dumpsters
Filled with rotten fish
Old wine
And some times a missing cracks head
Summer in the city
My ass
Then I flee
To broad st
The dividing line
Between this old world
You play two
You play tic tack
On my shoe

Portugal
Pork chops
Brazilians
And ekkies
Damn
And the dark
Continent
Jamaica, Africa, India
The south
It's all there
I was there at last
The homeland
Dare I kiss the ground?
Hell no………..
Anyway
I found the Negroes
My first thought
Is that?
I am at a carnival
The bright colors
The sights the music
Yea right
My first image
Was Of a group of black woman
Bitch-en
About their hair getting wet
It just rained
And you know
What humidity
Bitchen about
Men and feet
And shoes and prices
And just about every thing else
The heat brings it all out
Yup
The poor who
Can't take the heat of there
Cramped hot dwellings
Refuge my ass
Vendors
Selling 5-dollar Bootleg cd
Assault you
Carts selling food
On sticks
Muslims
Walking all around
Ok black folks
Mostly Muslims
Dressed up
To the nines in those head gears
Then there are my people
Black thugs
Puerto Rican thugs
And ghetto mommies
Pretty
Girls
Until they open their mouths
And then hell comes out
Poverty comes out
Loss and babies
Come out
I quicken my step
Ok ill stop
Then I get the first real glimpse
Of black youth
There they are
Ok they are all little john now
Black rockers
That did some jail time
Johnny cash
Meets kiss
Low hanging jeans
No shirts
And there we go
Asses hanging out all over the place
Butts, boxers and belts
Sweat in the ass cracks
I run I rock I roll
Bumping
Into crack heads
Pretending
To be normal for a good shop lifting day
But every one see's their disguise
I am doing a series of drawings on
This new Fashion
On belts and butts
What are these young men thinking?
Fresh out of jail
Or soon to be in jail
They parade around showing parts of
Their bodies
That are better left covered
Hell my generation
Knew the deal
Eldrige cleaver knew the right parts
To show
When he lost his mind and designed
Those pants that featured
A male private parts
Hell
Did I tell you I saw?
These actual pants
At Danny Simmons house
Just the other day
He actually owns the original part
I kneeled before them
To the horror of those around me
Ok back to the ranch
Codpieces
Never mind
Back to broad st
Young woman
Chubby girls
Thongs
And hair do's
Nails and glory
I rock I run
Into the muslum section
Newark has a very large muslum section
Yes I say muslum not Muslim
Its safe
Its weird
and they got some good incense
And oil
Ok I start my move
To return to sender
I cross back over
The mason-Dixon line
And return to the old world
Where I am greeted
By several hairy brazilin
Men
Wearing flip-flops
Beer bellies jingling and jangling
Speaking in those high pitched voices
 From hell
I run covering my eyes so as not
To hear the dreaded sound of flip-flops
I pass the sweatshop woman
South American, Ecuador, Uruguay,
Coming out of the factories
Looking sad and tired
and not so free

On past the Old Portuguese men swinging wine
 From straw covered bottles
In the shade of a garage or two
I knock down a crack heads cart running
I should say panting
Trying to reach my front door
Before a crack head
That calls me his uncle
Hits me up for a quarter
I put the key in the lock
Close my front door and feel safe
 From summer
For just a minute
Ya hot fun in the summertime
My favorite song of the summer
Is
Sunshine blue skies
Please go away
……………………………….
I just wish it would rain…………………