Everything was black and white before you,
But now my world is in a million colors.

The black skies above opened up
and rain began to fall.

The rain drops hit me like
a stab in the back
and an unexpected attack.
I suddenly feel black.

I realize that I was only a shell
that pretended to be well.
I was a grown man in a boy
treating my own life like a toy.

The time has come for me to change.
The old me has gone
and a new me has come.

I was an empty shell with no reason of living.
Now, I'm a man seeking to make my own meaning.

I look up and see a clear sky.
It seems that my darkness has left without saying goodbye.

Top-hatted snowman's
unflinching coal-black eyes guard
his creator's home.

I sit disgustingly high on my throne
Looking down at those who don't share the same pigment
A sliver plate was placed in front of me at birth
On it had everything i’d ever need
Financial stability, a house, clothes
Food, parents, education, safety
My heart pumps nothing but racism through my veins
An artery of cruelty and death

I strongly believe that ‘diversity’ equals white genocide
More of them means
Less attention on me  
Confederate flags litter my house
My car, my clothes
A simple reminder of the good ol’ days
Kicking them, Kidnapping them, Killing them  
My life is now
Being waited on hand and foot
My every move watched
My every need taken care of
My husband
As rich and powerful as he is
Through his fragile and egotistical nature
Shows no mercy to me and my kids
I will never struggle to provide for my family
I started my life on the top of the ladder
For my skin is my privilege

Someone is lying….

If i showed you a mere glimpse of my life
And the world’s nearly unbearable
Weight on me
Would you believe it?
I carry a list of illnesses from A to Z
A suicidal uncle who no longer shares
the same air as me
Colour, race, and religion
Hold no limitations to my pain
The day in ,the day out
Cold, Suffering
I will not be constricted to
the rules set on whites
By whites
I am defined by my actions
I stand before you as I am
I am well read and independant
Fiery and calm
I walk my path with integrity pulling my head high
And shoulders back strong

I am made from my experiences
I am not constrained to my personal history  
I was taught this social cancer
But surely, this can always be forgotten  
For my skin is my privilege
And my privilege is being me

black holes are formed
when a star collapses in upon itself
(NASA, 2017)
black holes are formed
when the brightest blazing flames in the universe,
the most beautiful spheres of luminous gas
(AMNH, 2014)
black holes are
massive magnificent voids
left behind by beauty that once was
(National Geographic, 2015)
black holes do not
belong in your chest
(Hanna, 2018)

In a world full of fascination and beauty,

Identity is nowhere to be found.

I am surrounded by a society so fake,

That a smile, a grin, or a laugh is a hidden ache.

So I hide my face… I’ll make pretend, and be my own friend.

I am just a grey mind in a universe of black and white.

Every time I look up, a spark awakens,

Lighting a flame, a vision to a reality;

That at the end of the day

We are beings, best left off in the consent of silence.

This piece tells a story about a girl who, in her life, is surrounded by the fake society. As she grows up she realizes that she is different from the others, mostly because she, out of all people that she judges, hasn’t found her true identity. But that is just she is in this phase of life. She leaves it at that as she understands that people have their own ways of showing off themselves, no matter how cheesy.

I wrote this piece for a short fashion film for a magazine. What's written is fiction.


Carrying the sparkles of my eye
     They roll down my cheeks ;
Scaring my soul they leave
     With a part of me .

To all those silent brave hearts whose tears roll only in the dark

Black and White your paint pours from your tongue
And my lips could never go past yours
because I drink the colors
that would shatter you
like rain
through the bow

For Him

The crows did hover above life's crumbling
shadow, never one to be swallowed in the mumbling
screams of what kept even death away.
But life hangs like a noose slowly eroding the way.

Tears of black feathers fell, as darkness sailed on
a sea of eclipsing movements. Twilights black swan
collected on life, and then was static as life bled feeding
on the misgivings that fed a misguided needing.

Shallow where the echoes beneath onyx feeding,
as glimmering hope faded and the inevitable pleading.
For but one more collection of endurance fading.
Then silence as clouds descended, how death became degrading.

Jude kyrie Jan 13

The south was dark and dangerous in. 1954
The Klan called in the darkness
as fear hung from the night like spiders webs.

In the woodland by kitty Gains farm
alongside the perfume of corn and wheat
and the staccato chirping of hot august cicadas
stood the hemlock tree scared and black at its base
where its bark would never refresh its color
the hanging tree became the burning tree.

Molly Evans and her husband Abel arrived first.
The ten year old Chevy truck
pulled into the clearing
she held a basket
covered by a clean laundered tea towel.

Abel spread the old wool blanket
as she served his dinner fried chicken and corn.
With two cups of homemade lemonade.
The sun was low and the sky had a fire in it
as if by duty the mosquitos started to bite.

Abel slapped his arm
leaving a crushed insect and a patch of blood.
Damned hitch he shouted
as Molly chastised him
language she churns God is listening.

Soon the field was full of vehicles a caddy a ford woody
trucks cars as big as football fields
nothing newer than 8 years old.
Men were drinking beer
ladies chatted of knitting and quilting
and harvest dancing socials.

It was then that jubels old beat up truck arrived.
In the back a big black man
his hands tied behind his back
kneeling in the truck bed.
one eye closed and bruised
his face beaten bloody.

The crowd fell to silence
yet an excitement filled the air it was palatable.
You could taste the bloodlust
as good as the fried chicken.

the big black man had arms with muscles
. Like a football
he could carry huge sacks of produce all day never tiring.
But no more they would show
what happens to uppity blacks
that lust after white women.

He was accused by Lilly Taylor
of trying to rape her.
it was untrue he spurned her advances
he was married to Lisa his wife
and never ever did anything to her.
It was well known Lilly's husband
Seth drank moonshine until he could not walk
never mind fill his husbandry duties at home.

But lily was white and he was black in 1954
They watched as the truck parked
under the tall stout branches of the hemlock.
The rope hung down
and was measured his toes would tantalizingly
touch the ground as he choked on the noose.
it would keep him alive for minutes

rapist don't get mercy here
they would know what to expect in this county.
The man who put the noose
Over his head was Marty Shue
the local bar owner
and his two assistants
were the the barber and the feed company owner.

Even the pillow cases they wore over their heads
with eye holes burned in them
could not hide their identities.
The barber poured a can of gasoline
over the black man
he begged don't burn my oh god no.

He had given up the hope of life
he was just  terrified of being burnt.
The begging went unheard
as the truck moved away slowly
the man fell from its bed
and dangled in the air
his toes dancing on the floor
gasping and choking for five minute.

then using his lighter
the feed company owner
Lit the black man.
He screeched an unholy sound
as the flames burnt him to death.

Across the hill in the shanty town
where the blacks lived.
the old lady looked at the lighted sky
in the trees

in her eyes a small boy
could see the flaming man
hanging burning dying.

Its your daddy son
he's at peace now let him be.
But the flames burned a memory
in his eyes.
and his mouth was dry tasting of death
and a new taste
that he had never felt before revenge.

The boy was 24
a big man now
his arms strong muscular he stood 6ft 5
And 220 pounds

next to him in the old car
sat another black man slight and almost pretty
he has gay written all over him.
His relationship with Virgil was unknown.
just they were close
they were friends.

They arrived at Marty's bar
in the late afternoon
it was still a filthy relic of the postwar south.
The no niggers served sign
still hung faded and in defiance
to the new laws.

The light colored slight man
rattled the sticking door of the bar.
The three men were watching a wrestling match
on a beat up tv
Drinking beer.

He said to Marty I would like a beer please
You don't Get one in here boy
there's a black bar down the road a ways.
But I want one here he saId softly

Marty short of his usual millimeter of patience
picked up his huge louisville slugger bat
and said when I say go boy you fucking well go.
Hear me.

The feed store owner had a gun
hidden in his coat
the barber a long hunting knife in his belt.
The bat raised above his head
as Marty lurched forward

he tried to stop when he saw the glock
in the black man's hand.
it basted his kneecaps to pieces.
as Marty screeched as he hit the floor.

The feed company owner took the chance
to pull out his weapon a 45
he had had since a boy.
It never reached waist high
as the bullets blow his manhood away
and he cradled writhing on the floor

the barber tried to run for the door
but bullets blasted his feet
as the foot bones crumbled

Virgill came in he had a can of gasoline
drenching the men with it
they screamed don't burn us
why you doin this to us we are good men.

Do you remember August 28 1954
They went quiet
The nigger you hung and burned

Yes I am sorry Marty wept
I was young and stupid.

It was my daddy
said Virgil softly I see him every day.
He talked of the thin membrane that.
Separated the living and the dead

of the places where it was so thin
you could hear the demands of the dead
for forgiveness and love
and the loudest of all for justice.

I hear my daddy in my sleep
in my dreams in my soul.
The gas can was empty.

As he grew a cigarette on Marty
his body ablaze in the whoosh of the fire
then the other two .
The place was engulfed in screams and flames.

They drove slowly
within all speed limits
passing the state lines one by one.

They never found out
who murdered three men in Marty's bar.
They had no underworld connections
and all three were fine upstanding
members of the local church
and well respected
members of the community.
it was a mystery.

The end

History cannot be rewritten
It is what it is
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