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Prelude to Grapedrink.

Poetry By: Future Compost Heap

About an African-American fellow, his state of being and his everlasting quest to capture the painstakingly elusive Grape-drink

Submitted:Oct 16, 2009    Reads: 189    Comments: 21    Likes: 13   

I have this Grill stuck in my heart

I love you Fried Chicken,

You have to go away

But you're so finger licking good, I want you to stay

I search for my Grapedrink, through dirt, dust and mold

Without my Fried Chicken, I am feeling so old

My negro heart is beating, as I dance on this floor, the Grapedrink eludes me

Oh how I wish it pour, from the skies to my door, but that only happens, in old negro lore

Unless I can find my Grapedrink, my Fried Chicken and all;

I should never again be happy, this man whose named Jamal


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