Friday, 27 June 2014

How To Love A Black Girl

Black girl is the love story that has just begun,
How do you learn to love black girl when she never learned how to love she?

Reminiscing about how black and blues go hand in hand,
Lost black girl,
White master never taught her how to love she

Only a shell of her former self.
Caress her so she affirms that her 12 years enslavement is no longer hither.

Respect her like you do with your light mother,
Value her like you do with your God, it is in his image she was created.
Black girl is learning how to love she.

You love the sun that makes light girl lighter,
Detesting the moon because it's dimness makes black girl darker.
Words do not do her any justice. 

"Team White and Light Skin, ain't nobody got time for no black bitch"

"Hood rat"

"Nuh uh mama, she be a negative kind of light"
It is black girl that makes other women want to pay for physical features she was already born with.
It is black girl that raised your little white girl, calling her nothing but "The Help"
She who dared to call her own brother "son"
It is black girl that birthed your universe.

You do not know how to love black girl because you are thinking of how to make love to black girl
Thinking of sticking your tongue in her ear yet not allowing her words to go through yours.

Do not play any victim song, percussionist.
Black girl's tears as heavy as the gold around Caucasian girl's neck.

 I bet by now Black girl has learned how to love she

 Behind this color blind stands black girl with her head held high, refusing to besmirch her character for anyone's sake.
Black girl is the beauty in ugly.
Black girl is the revolution that will be live.

Go ahead,

Love black girl,
She too loves she.

Wednesday, 25 June 2014

The Skin I Live In

I have been standing at a top of a point where four walls mocked me.
They made me affirm that I made it seem fine for everyone to be in a relationship but me.


Even the ocean refused to stop kissing the shore.

How do we learn to love other bodies
We learn not to own our bodies.

Four walls mocked me,
yelling "I am not boyfriend material"
It seemed fine for everyone to be in a relationship but me.

The skin I live in is the skin I feel
comfortable enough to wait for you and neglect carbon copies of you that quenched the thirst of my boredom.

See, the struggle is real, and Uhm I ended up losing things I thought I needed, but what is a need when we need not know of real "needs"?

The skin I live in is the skin I feel
nothing more than just being a rib from a man,
a sperm cell of a horny adult,
An Eve without An Adam to seduce and commit sin by exploring the taste of the, forbidden fruit.

The skin I live in is the skin where
beneath it lies blood cells having goosebumps as I create an image of you.
An image I might have placed in my memory locker at the back of my mind and compelled myself to forget the combination

The skin I live in is the skin I
want you to accept,
And, comprehend.

The skin that will await you.

Friday, 6 June 2014

Confessions Of A Nudist

It felt more like walking on ice
And I have never been one to walk away.
Tell me, when you heard me breathe heavily,
did it make you feel like a man?

Sticks and stones yet no walls to build around me.
Hurting people turn cold
Is that why she cried when she saw your name?

In the arms I felt safe,
It would hurt less if it was my decision,
From a distance I thought you knew my intention was simple.

Now, I think I know why she cried when she saw your name,

When will I get my smile back?
Because I guess it will take a while.
I lied to myself and promised that I will never go back,
Traumatizing flashbacks of how it went down last night.
the scent that you left on my body,
 and how your weight was on mine.

Didn't I raise my voice high enough for you?
Only know you love her when you let her go.
You only know you cared when she is hurt and gone.

I know why She cried when she saw your name. . .

You came across as though you wanted to annihilate my body, intimately.
Not knowing that the more you had me on my back the more it hurt, emotionally.
One or two days from now you will find me hating society and loving humanity a little less and you will look at me,
thinking I am ill, mentally.

She cried,
Oh, lord knows she cried

 She cried when she saw your name

Wednesday, 30 April 2014

#NaPoWriMo Day 30 : Adieu To The Man Unknown

Genuine poet
So long to your poems.
She holds not any creed so false
There is no time to rekindle sparks that flew.
No time to sit and wait to see
They still do.

Breaking human hearts is what contains of them
A lonely body awaits thee.
They built a wall to protect their love, and gentle kisses,
Wasted blood and sweat if you ask me of that now, is it not?

 'Tis not.
 It shall never be.
 Betwixt them lies beings that care too much to turn what goes asunder.

Sometimes, we need not be humane
Shall they relight their candles once more?
Whether of joy or pain where we find ourselves in between.

The time shall pass away.
It will.
It must.
Should it really?

Even as a pair, we,
betwixt our kisses and talk,
As she would pause to look at a light in your eyes and only ever by you
Lost my way

 "Adieu To you" thought I.
Genuine poet
Whose poems I shall hear no longer.

The Mortal That Made My Shadow Dance.

So, today marks a day of the beginning of your existence, so be attentive mortal as I spread much love to you more today than yesterday but less than I will love you tomorrow
I know not of how things of this sort go,
But in a nutshell,
'Tis true that I may be hard hearted though Thou remains loved by I as I by Thee.
It is on your wrist that the charm lies on today but I smile because I guess I am the lucky one for I indulge in the gift which is you
My big eyed mate.
I got you doe.
I celebrate the human that had me at hello.
I celebrate the human responsible for my dancing shadow.
I celebrate whom I long to converse with, face to face.
I celebrate whose arse I shall whoop in a rap battle soon.
I celebrate the one who tightened my lips to suppress a smile for any other being.
Today, lover,
I celebrate you.

Tuesday, 29 April 2014

#NaPoWriMo Day 29 : Twenty Little Holes In The Wall

Prompt : Twenty Little Poetry Projects

I slept like a drowning blue whale.
My comforter whispered to itself, rumors of my nakedness floating within the mattress.
I taste sea salt where blood smelled spring sweet as I see the dryness of dust.
My eyes look at the way nausea feels And now I shall envision I self as a nude Robert Allen Zimmerman in an equatorial rain forest.
Actually, I envisioned myself as Janis Joplin.
My hands twitched in day light.
Tallyho, I remain on the bed with a head filled with Tomfoolery.
Is it possible for pain to eliminate other pain? •_•..
This room, a prison without walls, it chokes me in the shallow water before I get too deep are the words that replay in my mind.
The threads of my carpet are my vital force.
And I sit here in this room trapped, free of danger, delicate like flowers on a grave.
I tried to escape from my thoughts and allow my soul to think for my brain.
Dre is not coping as her heart screams it's valve out. I will break free and roam redemptive.
Being chased by ice cold thoughts.
I tend to remember to forget who I am.
Je veux vivre dans l'instant, vivre ma vie facile et aéré l'esprit en paix.
The ceiling stares right back into my eyes and begins to smirk at my blueprint escape.
 Break loose and run free like a nude Bob Dylan.

Monday, 28 April 2014

#NaPoWriMo Day 28 : Based On A True Story, or Not.

Prompt : News Article
Ancient Herculaneum

The lost works of ancient Greek and Latin literature. In the Renaissance,
The Ancient Herculaneum became.

Mosaic scrolls in monastic libraries.
A chic resort town on the Bay of Naples.

Scrolls, scrolls
The first one took around four years to unroll.
To unlock the scrolls of Herculaneum led to them turning asunder.

Under normal light the charred paper looks "a shiny black"
The ink so dull black and somewhat iridescence
Moving the fragments to catch the light in different ways,
some few letters can be made out.
Some pieces, the eye can make out nothing.

Black lines on a pale grey background,
Black dust of the scroll powdering.
Orphan fragments make a text
Black dust on the table
Letters began to jump out of the ancient papyrus.
Black ink
black paper

Blinded by the real readings the lost dialogues of Aristotle?
Not quite. What further scrolls remain there still?
 More in the Villa waiting to be discovered…
Soon we shall be able to re-read the ancient scrolls.