Posts tagged “black poetry

America is like holding onto (but knowing you’ll never again fit into) your favorite pair of jeans

This side of the world is actually as bad as it seems

Hate is running rampant throughout America

we’re bursting at the seams

America is holding onto but knowing you’ll never again fit into your favorite pair of jeans

Life is only valued if you were born with specific set of genes

People switched teams

sold out

put their soul on the line

Our idols didn’t become rivals, but monsters, I cant even enjoy Mike’s “remember the time”

The world ended and it didn’t go out with a flashy show

but when the first murder video went viral, and only made SOME people uncomfortable

People argue over if a child’s life is worth a cigarilllo

In my own little corner, in my own uncomfy chair I can’t be all that I can be

Yeah, some people may be living what they think is the America dream

But how can any one be a millionaire or billionaire when Flint’s water still isn’t clean

In my own little corner, in my own uncomfy chair I can’t be all that I can be

I refuse to be a copy, a robot, a sheep with a slave mentality

I’ll be someone important to me, that’s better than striving to be like any celebrity

a woman who’s able to love herself, and love another just like me

I mean, sure, ice caps are melting all around me, and larger grows the sea but maybe one day I’ll finally lead the change I want to see

So when I yell out “momma I made it, turn on your big screen”

It’ll be a hundred thousand people taking a stand, creating peace, passing out prosperity

My prodigy, my mini-mes

The country is really that bad right now

open your eyes

the government is currently shutdown but are you surprised?

Its pretty sad people or working for free

All in the the name of getting funding to build a wall

Sounds a lot like slavery

Look around

Whew chile, the injustice

and from the mouths of rich there isn’t a sound

TSA workers are letting guns past security to planes leaving the ground

Gladys Knight is about to perform the national anthem and let us all down

Things are as scary as they look, If no one else is going to say it I will

Im tapping out the morse code, we need help and this is not a drill

Shout out to the bunker builders from 1999 can I get some of your blueprints before we’re finally out of time

 

(this poem was written by me some time in January 2019)

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Opal

Opal taste like sea salt

Bitter yet satisfying

Opal is nostalgic

it would remind you of springtime

The first day you can wear your toes out

Free Ritas

Opal is a short wait in the nail salon

And the hair salon

The feeling of loving the skin you’re in

If Opal were a game it’d be a puzzle

Not a crossword but a Sudoku

Opal is you

The ultimate mood, ring

The ‘You’ you were when you heard “don’t grow up too fast”

The ‘You’ you were once you figured out why

It’s not easy being Opal

Having to spend each day explaining

Contemplating

If Opal were art it wouldn’t be a Mona Lisa

Opal is an Illmatic album

Perfection before it’s time

If my mood were a color it’d be Opal

You shouldn’t have to describe it but you do anyway

I want a home where every wall is Opal

Every ceiling and every floor

I want to live inside an igloo that isn’t cold

see fireworks that aren’t too bright

and  experience love that never gets old

Opal is a contact lens

for my third eye

A kaleidoscope formed to see through the lies

Black Utopia

You’re going to the black utopia? Can I go too?

Where the sky isn’t a typical blue

but a reddish, orangy, golden-sparkly hue.

Everyone there is just like you.

Selfless, patient, loving, intelligent, enlightening too.

Honey pours from the trees and blessings, not death, comes in threes.

You and I are the same, of course, you’d believe,

there aren’t any status symbols symbolizing or separating us because of what we believe.

There’s only one religion and that’s the belief of a longing love.

Everyone would raise their heads and never bow them again to talk to the “one above.”

We’d float down to heaven, then up to our super earth again, and then, wherever our wings would have us travelin…

Maybe we’d stop pass the old mars or visit the first stars and see everything we generalized into being just “space.”

We’ll spin and twirl and twirl and spin, until finally we pick up the pace.

We’d name everything we touch bc it would be ours to do just so, there be enough to go around no need for fighting never anyone going toe to toe.

I heard of this place called the “black uptopia” I heard it’s a place you’ve been to…

I only have one question for you.

If this place the “black utopia” exists, can I go with you?

Open wound

Open wound

Did you hear? There’s an open wound for sale

A pretty pinkish reddish tomb deep of a wound for sale

A freshly picked scab of a wound; red as a rose newly bloomed for sale

Filled with a precious history, located in a place of mystery, glistening ready for a new owner for new tales kind of wound for sale

A pus-sy, cussy, almost crusty, wound with character for rent

I’ll lend it to you and collect every red cent

A constant reminder of a careless mistake, an oops of sorts, a chance to remember that healing is possible kind of mark that will help others similar relate

A sore, battle wound, a permanent marker

Something I couldn’t really give away for free even if the skin was darker

I have this wound that I would like to donate, I can’t seem to find any takers

I’ve even advertised my precious wound in Sunday’s paper

I guess no one is brave enough to take this wound off of my hands, who am I kidding I put it there in the first place

Why purchase a wound from someone who you can’t even trust to run a full course race

Someone who has never learned the lessons from the wounds, only make them bigger, well, cheaper?

I don’t know the answer but when you find it out let me know, then I’ll know you’re a real keeper

A girl who’s finally free #ForeverHoldYourPiece

Nina Simone said no fear is freedom.

I’m a girl who’s finally feeling free.

I met a fearless God the night when I stared at the sea and saw the stars align with the moon

The moon shined brighter than I had ever seen and sitting on the top of the moon was me.

A little brown girl was smiling big and bright right back at me.

I asked her about life and death-her preference of life or death.

I don’t want to die I told her. I want to be forever young, young forever, loved forever.

I know God is real when I got an answer.

I flew through the heavens and thought for the very first time I was worth more than I thought I was.

Maybe nothing means everything and life is just practice for something else.

Preparation for everything to come, but what if nothing happens?

But she told me death is only a moment of darkness; then it’s all light.

An excerpt from “An Ode to the ‘Good Girl’” available in paperback or kindle (e-book)

The woman in the mirror #SpeakUp

(The woman in the mirror)

I rushed back to get another glimpse of her

The first look was too quick

Rushing, I forgot what it felt like to be free from tricks

Treat or not, I walked back fast

I hurried

Trying to be slick

There you are, girl, growing into a woman

Standing there

Being the change, we all needed to see

An excerpt from “An Ode to the ‘Good Girl’” available in paperback or kindle (e-book)

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