With bloodshot eyes and placards
We're on the streets for our sisters' plight
Marching ,chanting and praying
For our brothers that lost their lives.

We refuse to accept your lies
We continue fight for the truth and life
And some of you say it's our sister's fault
She walked right into this chaos
If she didn't, it would have saved us
The stress and rumors that are before us.

Same thing you said about our daughters
Who are still trying to write letters
Who are in classes and taught alphabeta.
They should have known this would happen
They should have known that this uncle
Would penetrate after he opens.

I wonder how unfeeling you are
How you sit back and encourage justice to wither.
I tried to accept that you would later
See reason with the victim's father
Or mother or sister or friend because we're meant to help each other.

Remember that girl you held and plundered is indeed someone's daughter.

A wild fire in her heart
Lightening in her eyes
Yet there's a gag over her mouth
And her arms are bound
Her legs in quick sand
Her steps uncertain and light




Dressed in black silk
And the most expensive perfume
Ginika bleeds
From her ears, nostrils and the corner of her lips.


Skin like honey and smooth like egg shell
Yet marked with traces of the heart's wound.
Upturned lips tinged with the colour of pain .
Paraded like the finest of masquerades.
Head held high but the whole world on her shoulders.
     Her picture on the magazine doesn't stop the whispers.

i want to travel the world one color at a time

...see the color of the first sunrise
...sip black tea on London rain
...linger at the heart of the Big Apple
...gaze at the pink skies of California
...cliff dive into the Aegean blue sea
...marvel at the green grass of the African safari
...get lost in the land with the whitest snow
...witness the sunset in Rio
...travel in space and walk the gray surface of the moon

but i’d rather pull all the shades and wander the great indoors
where the color of comfort is...

my unmade bed

In the midst of terror and madness
The only joy comes from sadness
Masked behind a facade
Joy is surface value, conscience made
Plastic made, like cigarette smoke, it quickly fades
Are you reading into it
Bellow laughs and smiles, one might assume you're innocent
But the truth is, noone is innocent, even when you're an infant
Infact even babies **** insects
I'm from a place where it feels like its ****** to show love to your blood, you'll turn into a reject if you dont eject the "the white man mind".

I don’t know what we are trying to say Native America…
White man and the Indian?
Fight for your right,
Fight for your white.
Apache -
Underlined in black "indian" ink Africa!

The struggles I had to face is something she wont go through!
No! Never! Not while I live , and definitely not under my watch.
THE CRY OF AN AFRICAN MOTHER

My daughter is a lawyer in the making.
She's intelligent, a doctor figure.
THE HOPE OF AN AFRICAN FATHER

Study hard baby
You'll take care of your sibling someday
and build us a better home.
THE PRAYER OF AN AFRICAN PARENT
................................................................­.................................................................­.....................................
Your good intent overshadowed by your failures and inabilities.
Genuine goodwill expressed in a confusing web of past decisions
Your way out shackles me to a prison wall painted in your dreams and wishes

I open my eyes to two options,
the wall of desolation and
the gateway of disrespect and ungratefulness .

I'd love to stay in these chains
enjoy the discomfort of your comfort.
but i cant!
I have a life to live
a destiny to realize

I cant live your dream
all the night you had to cry at nature's unfair gift of failure
could have turned to smiles and pride.
With the weapon of childbirth
You were assured a sweet revenge on nature

but the truth is...
all you have is an opportunity to be you
I'd love to be the doctor you long for.
**** to be a lawyer just to satisfy your thirst

but....
What difference would it make
I get to be the doctor.... not you
I wear the wig ...... not you
You'd still be a slave to nature
and me, a prisoner to the horror of your past.

I cant live your dream
tho i dream of living the future you've planned for me,
all i wake up to is a pillow, a ***** sheet and REALITY!

I choose the gateway of disrespect
carrying along the tag of an ungrateful son
battling nature to the realization of my dreams
while staring at the Right to a wig and a stethoscope on the wall.

Hanging between those crafty wooden frame
is your key to vengeance
to me,
the crown of a wasted years chasing after your dream.

Sorry mom --- Sorry dad
I cant live your dream.

At hand, we die to the white man.
Call it like it is.
See it from my eye.
“I don’t see color”
You don’t see color!!!
What madness do you speak?
The fact that you don’t see color
Means you don’t see me!
Because I am a person of color,
(I AM A BLACK MAN!)
You’ve gotta see my color to see me.

You would rather make sure your dog eats
While my dawg got's to hustle and tussle for bone and scrap.
You would rather help stray dog
Than help a dawg gone astray.
A black life is a human life.

At hand, we die to our own.
Call it like I see it.
A lot of my brothers and sisters
See me from a dove’s eye view,
Killed by my own hands.
Brothers and sisters
Yet we **** each other like
Slave and oppressor.

The oppressor has become,
Me, who undermines my brother because
He don’t got the qualifications like the Caucasian.
Me who undermines my sister so much so
She now finds love in selling her love.
Help a n** out!!!

Land of the free,
For the skin that’s never been slaved.
Bring back the land
That was rightfully mine.
Do manners only apply when I'm wrong?
Gimme my land, freedom, rights and dreams
And ill give you your car back?
As a father I did what I had to for my kids.

Africa, your mother, cries
Day in and day out.
Her own children die
Not only at the hands of the free, but also at the hands of her children.
Sacrificed, a lot, to keep her children fed,
She’s been a mother to the world,
Its time we, her children, look after our mother and
Each other.

Ba ba black man
wandering the flaming sun/

Why do you choose to smear the night?
is it that you're too sour for truth and light? /

What’s your guilt?  
why running from the sanctuary your ancestors built? /

Traveler beneath my country’s fire-rain
off to the backyard and heave my pain/

If you deem freedom to be tons of dollar
come swing ***** of dust into the eyes of your mother/

Life of a dark traveler isn’t a small joke
so don’t you find my words a suffocating smoke/