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Carrina Hendricks  Mar 2015
how can we be one complete person but different depending on the situation?
well middle school told me i cant, but not directly
they gave me a word
please, tell me who i am
please, tell me when I'm not being me
"A man has as many social selves as there are individuals who recognize him"
William James
last time i checked everyone in this room recognizes me, so recognize
all the social selves I have to offer
the first time someone called me fake
7th grade, a girl told me i was fake
because I had cornrows in my hair
"you're white" she said
"white girls can't wear their hair like that, stop being fake"
but my aunt is black and told me my hair is pretty like that
and I loved my cornrows, and I didn't know cornrows were black
I knew cornrows were hair, hair a part of me
a part I loved
it never crossed my mind that I was stealing from
black men and women with my white scalp, with my white hair
her black hands gentle on my head as she braided
"braided to the scalp" she said
you tell me my cornrows make me fake but they were the realest thing about me
I didn't have to wash my hair for a whole week, I stared into the mirror
admiring the beauty on my head
the hair style I am thankful for because it showed me what pretty looked like
it showed me melting ***
it showed me black hands, white scalp, work together
it showed me black hand, white hand, work together
it showed me human
and you tell me that's fake
what about human is fake?
my cornrows weren't fake, they were as real as the breath in your lungs
as real as the blood in your veins
as real as the white hands of my grandma
perfectly sculpting the hair on the black scalp of my aunt
"you're fake", shouldn't be for me, because nothing about me
is fake
especially my cornrows
Dark n Beautiful Sep 2015
I try to remember the kind of September
When life was slow and oh so mellow*
I try to remember the kind of September
When I wore my navy blue skirt
with white bottom down top,
with glistening extension cornrows
so tight like dreadlocks.

I try to remember the kind of September
When I was young and carefree and no responsibilities
Now it’s September those after school activities.
Oh shiver me timbers to all the bus drivers
Welcome to another school year with tears
Justine Louisy Jul 2020
Mummy used to buy me hair grease,
for my hair was a seismic wave of crease.
The scalp crying sweat,
the tantrums were the onset.

Wide tooth comb have mercy on the nots,
nests of lies and cheeky clots.
The flurries of dandruff deposit,
the skeletons in the closet.

Mummy brought out the blue magic,
the long strands thirsty to become ethic.
Such a wave of moisture,
like the silkiness of an oyster.

A perfect layer of braided Cornrows,
blended amongst the tropical mangoes.

Mummy says to me you’re a woman now,
be prepared and ready to plough,
the knotty hairs of your little ones.

Go and buy the same hair grease,
to ensure their naughty traits mature into peace.

Justine Louisy

Copyright ©Justine Louisy 2016
All Rights Reserved
So... I’ve mentioned about braids but now let’s talk about the preparation of Afro hair and the goodness of hair grease (metaphorically speaking 😁😅) enjoy!!
Kay-Ann  May 2014
Kay-Ann May 2014
Sometimes I feel uncomfortable in my own skin
It's like this chocolate shell is slowly killing me from within
Sometimes I think about taking up that cream and bleaching my skin
But it's only gonna lighten my complexion while the light inside me is still dim
Sometimes I wonder why I get left behind just because I'm not light
I mean we're from the same race, aren't we supposed to unite?
sometimes I think something is wrong with me because I'm not light
I guess the lighter girls at school feel sorry for me which is why they act so contrite
People pick up the book entitled me and they see a dark-skinned girl who is free
And they just put it down because they can't bother to read
But I don't want someone who worries about the knots in my hair and the cornrows
I want someone who's not afraid to run their fingers in the knots of my soul
So why can't you love me for my big lips and round brown eyes
And my wide hips and shapely thighs
Why cant you see that I'm beautiful, I'm confused
Don't you know that I reflect you in all my hues
Brown, caramel, black and all that's in between
We're all just the same if you know what I mean.
the boyfriend you had while I loved you.
can I lend you 20 for some acid?
no. not even as you glint your eyes at me, no.
with your family,
mentally ill sister and young parents
who don’t know how to deal with your
flickered drug habit
what you don’t get enough of
and what you get too much of
yours are defining
cutting shirts into movements
your least favorite feature,
you always wished for my small peaks
but you have to learn the beauty of your own.
Blunt wraps;
you used an elementary school photo
of a black girl,
her cornrows burnt away that morning
your name has always been a knife to me,
for the first month I knew you
I stumbled on the Polish of your mother’s maiden name.
I got a call every morning and every night from you,
so when I found out you didn’t love  me
those hours we spent
backing out the night sky
fell seamlessly away into phone bills.
your shaggy carpet
and ***** underwear
and peanut butter sandwiches
we were crescents together
I told you stories about the time I **** my pants
and you told me stories about how you peed behind the couch
and we were safe
under the lemon light of your room
you are that to me,
not a tease but the sound of a wine glass in a sharp nailed hand
coy and subtle and pursed lips
we are ex-never lovers
and ex-sweaty hand holders

you left me with your shards of light,
heavy sweaters and lip stains,
poetry books and fliers,
condoms and socks,
a bike lock and nail polish
you ripped the hair out of my brushes
to keep in jars in your room,
sharp and golden
tinted green at the bottoms,
flat on your head.
you live across town
and I spent days with you
listening to your iPod
stripped and full of Chinese food,
legs curled and stuck together
the only thing between us
was a blue light from a cell phone
we have seen each other
husk and chicken skin,
only socks and earrings
or when I showered in front of you
***** hair rustling
you asked me why I fell in love with you.
you read my first love poem to you and you cried at your desk
and I blushed and knew that you never loved me
I performed it that same day
and waited for you to hear me
but you didn’t come
and I don’t think you wanted to anyway.
sometimes i think
i still love you,
that dripping seed i felt for you
is hidden behind calling you crazy.
calling you ***** haired,
calling you nicotine-addicted
it smells like Abby,
my cheeks rush and you must’ve been there
because it is just you in this room
you do it every time I am with you,
and I am guilty for the both of us
when I tried it for the first time
my fingers shook
and you bit your fingernail and laughed
and now I have a lipstain I think looks awful on me
and I am still guilty for the both of us
you have an eye on your hip bone,
a quick decision that you will probably regret in a year
but I love it for now
the first time i got drunk was with you,
***** lemonade,
basement slurs
and it was disgusting
and I loved you
you threw up in the Salernos parking lot
on the corner of Fillmore and Home,
and in the back of Cal’s car
you lost your virginity to David
and you said it was just *** to both of you
and I didn’t believe you
and you fell in love with him
and cried when it really was just ***
Jeanie  Sep 2017
90% it's benign
Jeanie Sep 2017
Lumpy, bumpy, feeling rather jumpy.

Nodule? Cyst? What have I missed?
Kindness pouring from soothing eyes - ladies in purple who have seen it all, beckoning sirens though to the hall.
Consultant - God, Guru, Man, Father, Lover, Philanderer, Tooth Fairy, Assassin
He checks like a 15 year old boy, passionless, conscientious, circling
Is this ok?

Lump - Yes. Bump - Yes. Am I  going to jump? - Yes

Off to see the coolest man in the hospital - the Ultrasound guy

But first back to sit in cornrows with the ladies who coyly all dressed like me.

Russian roulette - someone will be upset.

Mamm-o-gram - scans your ***** like ham.

Kindness of the operator who's careers advisor could never have predicted this.

And then up and off to be seen by James Dean
James Dean with a wand and gel and a screen
And a squint then a glint  - it might just be ok....?

90% its benign - oh mine the benign, fine, tine-y lump

But we had better double check.... with this massive needle
Please Mrs D please don't wheedle

Eyes shut tight anaesthetic mirroring a it still there?

Then back to see my crew
Of ladies old and not so, a sea of tight smiles and frightened eyes
90% it's benign
90% it's benign
90% it's benign
Doll Spaghetti Aug 2015
feeling it
cornrows blasted by tulmoultous dust storms engulfing the plains
gunshot wounds to the hand
a teenager and his dad's cockfight
building split by the demolition team

can't really put it into words

my enveloping ambitions kick the family chair away from this hanged man's goal

i'll change

and finally I will be strong
winter sakuras Apr 2017
Her hair, was two, silky, raven black cornrows
flowing down her slender back,
in her eyes, you could find
two whole blue corn moons, and a grinning bob cat of stars
twinkling in the blanket of night sky,
a trembling reflection on the sleepy, shimmering lake,
her skin was copper and
cinnamon flavored, rich and aglow with delicate paint markings
perfect, round droplets of blue and red ink,
a flora, fauna princess with
a crown of blossoming flowers garnishing her jeweled head,
and the majestic, flowing cloak
of a rampant bear wrapped around her shoulders,
her cool, adventurous feet, would walk to the ends of the earth
leaving a trail of lightly treading,
small footprints among the larger ones,
for she cupped up handfuls of the rich, dark soil,
at the shine of a cherry, red sun,
sang with all the voices
of the mountains,
painted with
all the colors of the wind,
and never thought to ask for more,
she threw herself over his worn, rugged self
and asked for his life to be spared,
blinking down crystalline tears, swiveling in a fresh, pure,
soft, innocence that brought mankind to bay,
and then she reached up
and harvested her ripe fruits,
to nourish his kind.
Pocahontas, "laughing and joyous one,"
Matoaka, "flower between two streams,"

You were the beautiful, laughing flower between the two, different, gushing streams of life.
Blue jean hitchhikers , sweet cornrows
Wild Plum groves off Roseberry Road
Knee high grassland , matted trails home
to dusty , dog day Farms* ...
Copyright August 20 , 2016 by Randolph L Wilson * All Rights Reserved
It's like you threw a curve in me
Never understood how love songs could make me blush as if they were written for me personally
Thank you for making me feel like I'm the prettiest girl in the world
Until I met you
Smirking at my screen
No matter what I have on he thinks I'm beautiful
Reminding me of all the times you just ignored my glasses, bonnet, cornrows, and even how you met me with swollen eyelids and no voice
Make me scream I'm all yours
Holding back because I don't know how to feel
Alone in a room, but all these notes are warming me like
the last snowflake on the first day of spring

Sounds of Love

— The End —