Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Kaitlyn H Mar 2021
Growing pains…not the ones that hurt because you grew 3 cm tall and everyone at thanksgiving noticed. No, the ones that hurt because your nephew is 17 now and “the system” no longer see him as a kid but as a ****, a beast old enough to take bullets from the back but can’t envision him as the next Obama or the next Mansa Musa. Can’t seem to accept my blackness, **** they barely accept the jews. Growing pains…not the ones that got my hips spreading and my ******* developing. No, the ones that allow you to be thankful somehow, that your daddy was a rolling stone and taught you the ways of the play book, so you could be ready to read through any ******* men feed you. Like, “I know you scared but don’t be baby cause I got something to ease you.” Ruining your fairytale of loyalty, fidelity and men. Growing up to only find out you have daddy issues.
Growing pains, when you realize your narrow-minded perspective as a child gave you false hope as an adult. Thinking I wanted to be like my parents when I grow up. I just had an epiphany, I’m just like them, and that’s what ****** up. Living to metamorphosize into a greater being not just to break this generational curse but to live up to my expectations rather than finding out what’s worse.
Growing pains, digging up the emotional trauma. Discovering my triggers and healing from the past that no longer serves me. Having to navigate my own way to the destination. So, you birthed me, gave me beatings, personally prepped my platter of mental disarray. But I don’t blame you, mama. I forgive you…because you only taught me what you knew. And you taught me what not to be and from that I only grew like a mushroom that flourishes even through **** and still possess a magical hue.
Growing pains, realizing the elephant in the room was louder than any silence I have ever heard. For years, accepting everyone’s lies that turned into words that turned into truth that turned into hurt. Shaping me, molding me like clay, into a prisoner of their society. A prisoner who had to break free. A prisoner held captive for wanting to be an individual. What some would consider a pariah but really just a lost soul looking for a reason to breathe. Making use of this breathing container encapsulating the forsaken child within. Hidden in brown skin. Waiting to feel the liberation.
Never thought a therapist would be an essential part of my living. Never thought in a stranger I would ever find healing. Never expected my mental to be depressed or my feelings to be addressed, I’m just holding on to what’s left like a hoarder I’m obsessed but living that life I won’t progress so here it is…. I…. confess.
Sparks fly, and people die;
A cycle that tends to repeat

Bullets fly, across the sky;
People mourn and cry for love lost;
Grieving for their future days
That would never come,
That has paid the cost.

The cost of what may you ask?
The cost of being black.

Sparks are shot into the sky;
Blood is shot into the sky;
Sweat is shot into the sky,
Tears are shot into the sky,

For being of color,
An eye for an eye?

No? / Then I wonder why?

Why nothing is done until
A fatal outcome?
Why peaceful protests urge uproar,
While unarmed men lay pinned
In the street...
Beneath someone’s knee,
Unable to breathe?

Tell me.
Tell me what the answer is,
To stop the violence,
But most importantly,
To feel safe in my skin
With my melanin.

I love humanity, but this is a message
That needs to be known;
In hopes for all to be seen equally;
Not to feel estranged,
Or be a victim of prejudice,
Or alone.
Black lives matter. I wrote this when the protests and riots in Minneapolis, Minnesota, and the world started. This poem is only the start of what I have to say and is certainly not the end. This is the first iteration of this piece, and I will not be responding to any hateful messages on this. It's all about love. It's all about understanding. That said, let us spread love. Let us understand in finality that hate doesn't solve a thing. This is only a fraction of the pain it causes, especially for those of color, which I understand firsthand. I will continue to hope for peace, and for an everlasting love that will bring forth the mutual and equal freedom for all that we have yet to reach. Keeping that hope alive.
Max Ese Anderson Jun 2020
A Poem Of Lamentations
By Max Ese Anderson

They try to rewrite 400 years of history
Their glory is a product of our suffering
They want us to pray, and not to worry
We did that, but they never say sorry
Rather, it keeps getting more gory
With knees on our throats, provoking our fury

I can't breathe, I need to change this story

Stop distorting humanity
Racism is nothing but vanity
An ugly blend of ignorance and stupidity
It shall always breed strife in our community
The solution is justice and equity
And respect for every man's individuality

I must breathe, as designed by the Almighty

You've killed one George too many
Replacing part of democracy with tyranny
You're renowned for this intolerable infamy
You need to return the statue of Liberty
You act off tangent with her tenets of equality
Yes, I want to breathe, today and for eternity
I need guarantee, for me and my progeny

....(c) Max Ese Anderson 02/06/2020
Her Songs May 2020
It took years
It took years for me to love the color of my skin
To love the hair that grows out of my head
It took years to stop wanting to bleach my skin
To stop wanting to straighten my hair
It took years
To stop wanting to be anything but black
To stop wishing that I was never born.
But somehow, I still achieved it.  
Even in the face of people that are hell-bent on hating us every single day.

I should be doing homework but I can’t focus
It seems like all this work will be for nothing anyway
Like our deathbed is only a day away
I should be studying for finals but I can’t absorb any information
Instead, I am sitting by the door waiting for my dad to come downstairs
Just so I can tell him goodbye and pray that he comes home

I should be planning my future
But instead, I can only focus on the next few hours
Waiting and waiting and waiting
For my dad AND mom to walk through that **** front door.  

Hoping that my brother got home safe as well.  

All because of the color of my skin.
Austin James Jan 2020
They say the way through is the way out.
They don't want us to weigh in--just to stay out.
A closed mouth is a silent shout,
But the people can't hear us when we shut our mouths.
If you speak up it's too loud,
Too black and too proud.
Just a shade too dark.

But there's a remedy for that,
Another bullet in a black back.
Souls turned desolate
Another bully lackin' black tact
Black man--white cop.
Gun cocked
pop, pop
Two shots
No thoughts
Un-armed, life lost
Cheeks turn
Hate costs.
Just a shade to dark.

Red handed as the blood spills.
Black bodies turned to buzz kills.
If the people don't acquit 'em you know the judge will.
And you try to tell me times ain't what they was still?
Just another ni**a in a white world.
They tryin' to wipe our history--white whirl.
Dismantling families killing off the "villain".
An infection to them "white folk" and them bullets penicillin.
Mass incarceration and gentrification too,
The wounds from the hatred have pierced us to the roots.
They try to call us thugs and force us from the roost,
But all lives will matter when the black ones finally do.

I guess we're just a shade too dark.
man tells me
man is you
man is that argument
man is that saying
man is that bias

MAN my fists,
ending you
that argument
your stupid sayings
that bias


I'm coming for you man.
The word, "Man," in it's oldest sense means, "Thought."
sadgirl Oct 2017
your skin
is not my skin
and it never will be

but your skin
stretched tight,
under creased jeans

and half-eaten seams
breaking to the beat
of the *****-tonk music

is enough to give me faith
there is some good
in this world,

we took our boats out
onto the shore,
beached them

in seconds after the lake
decided she didn't
agree with the politics behind

every love like ours,
you drowned
and i stayed afloat

but how will you swim
to me,
when the sky

is filled with
nothing but

when everything
is unapologetically
Based on the landmark civil rights case.
travelin north on rumblin boxcar trains
soft iron rails confess syncopated pains
slow rhythmic rush of spinning paddlewheels
full immersion baptism in Big Muddy swales
feint clip clop thoughts of ol Bess fade fast
hum a hue of delta blues to hard times past
I lift a quiet prayer to my Lord’s willowy ear
to quell the ugly whispers of yonder city fears

Jacob Lawrence
Panel 23
Migration Series

Duke Ellington:
Daybreak Express

a snippit from a long essay The Path of Totality Part 2, "The Fire Next Time"
Hang on, hold on...
...we get the fiddle out,

Now the old Ban-jo...
here comes it now,
clap tune with us...

America went in the can when Hollywood then brought-in,
The good feelings sneakin' 'round as Old Times never for-got-ten.
HOORAY! HOORAY! America, still Dixie!

Real T.V. got your goat as poli-ticks snake your vote,
I guess that's how, guess what's now, -rock that boat!
LOOK AWAY! LOOK AWAY! T.V. keepin' Dixie!

Take a knee you N-F-L, NBA you go to Hell!
Still not same, as Me 'n Me, with money, life is swell!
HOORAY! HOORAY! America, still Dixie!

Demo-cracy was thrown a hand, when Dixieland lost it's stand,
Oh live and die for T.V.

Keep your eyes down now, -boy don't look around...
...Our way, -T.V. -is Dixie!

HOORAY! HOORAY! America, still Dixie!
HOORAY! HOORAY! America, still Dixie!

Gotten out? The Great Gar-den? Then we shot your Mar-tin.
And ole Jay Z we'll mow him down, every time he hits our town,
oh you'll see, catch a grave, as God T.V. keep y'all a slave!
Not the same, as Me n' Me, in spite of all your New money!
HOORAY! HOORAY! America, still Dixie!
HOORAY! HOORAY! America, still Dixie!

HOORAY! HOORAY! America, still Dixie!
HOORAY! HOORAY! America, still Dixie!
Remake of the Dixie tune for modern times. It must have been hilarious to see people dancing and clapping to this tune as it appears to be made in jest to mock racists.
Next page