I heard there was a secret metric foot
that David knew was favoured by the Lord,
and when he penned the psalms he'd often put
this pattern the Almighty best adored
amongst the endless praise and imprecations;
unstressed, plus stressed, suffuses through his pages,
though hidden by the English of translations;
pentameters still echo down the ages.
The spondee's spurned, and has been from the start;
an anapaest's anathema, and grim.
Though trochees may be near the Maker's heart,
you'll never hear a dactyl in a hymn.
There's only one the Lord thinks worth a ****:
the sacred, the unchangeable iamb.

you could say the problem was
race; half white half japanese
you could say the problem was
passion; which never aligned
you could say the problem was
distance; a desert too vast to cross
but i say the problem was
love; because i loved you more
than i loved myself.

it's not your skin that makes you beautiful,

Although your skin is beautiful,

But rather your entire frame of mind

Even if you rewind back time

To when you were shackled, still you shined

Shined while chanting, still I rise





You are not a woman of color, or a girl with black skin

More accurately, you are an ebony goddess

A symbol of strength to be admired,

A symbol of *** to be desired

the way your hips sway with grace

Even if your natural hair doesn't touch your waist



No longer are you a caged bird that sings,

But rather a hawk that soars proudly or a songbird that sings loudly

Just hold my words true and never doubt me



Too often society says your skin is too dark,

They don't use you in Maybelle ads and I can tell it hurts your heart

Like everyone fears the darkest nights yet praises summers day

Remember my ebony goddess,

The night sky looks the most beautiful, when it's a sky full of rain



You are beautiful, and you are black

It doesn't matter if your skin is as dark as the night sky,

Or as light as the caramel you buy

Be comfortable in your own skin,

Because your own skin is beautiful