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Juhlhaus Mar 15
Let the dead carry the weight of you
when the road is long,
the climb too steep

—worn treads, bare threads—

out of time
in place.

A bereaved mother's touch to guide you,
an empty hand to hold

when you're on the brink
of a faltering jump to the sidewalk
she is right there with you
to lift you
over the deep mud, the oily puddles.

In that dark mirror
let her show you the shattered faces
of the ones taken
without sense or justice

but still here with you,

still here
in a world seen through her eyes
for what it was

and for all it can be.
These words came to me after a visit to the apartment that was the historic home of Emmett and Mamie Till-Mobley on Chicago's South Side.
Philomena Sep 2021
I seek refuge from my womanhood I run into the dark corners of what is feminism and found no solace, equality does not belong to my skin, sisterhood extended out of pity as if any love could erase the past, at times i wonder if i am just a way to ease their shame, if the kindness is a payment to my ancestors whose screams i can still hear as their womanhood is defiled, i often get caught between hate and the truth neither make me feel any better, and both can't be denied ,
Let me set the scene
The sun is shining
Time to fill my day with play
The illuminated field of grass calls to me
Like my soft blankets after a hard weeks work.
Should I take off my shirt?
I don’t want tan lines.
Tan lines?
Tan lines.
What are those?
You know,
When your skin has a line where
“Darker tan skin meets lighter tan skin”
Tan?
Tan.
What is tan.
You know,
You know a darker flesh tone.
Flesh tone?! Oh no,
Here we go.
What is flesh tone?
Flesh?
Tone?
Flesh, our skin.
It comes in all different shades of pinks, oranges, and red.
No there’s different shades of black and white.
No one is white, truly.
You know what I mean!
No! I don’t, I really don’t.
I mean,
There are people who exist with the complexion of fresh fallen snow.
Oh no,
Here we go.
Snow is made of ice which is made of water.
Last time I checked water is blue.
We were talking about you!
Well now we are onto something more important!
You seriously think water is blue?
It’s an optical illusion!
Can’t you see?
You fool.
And your stupid tan lines.
If they bother you so much take your shirt off!
Don’t be more than one shade! You have to make sense!
You have to blend in!
You have to be perfect!
Woah. Wait a minute.
Weren’t we having a nice time in the sun?
Well brain,
I was trying to.
But now I feel like I’m in sin.
The poem meant to talk more about not feeling safe to bathe in the sun due to prying eyes but it became something better.
Sakshi Bhagat May 2021
Dark chocolatey skin bears the flag of red
Coloured, a sin; these feelings are cultivated and bred
So they're brought to toil on white soil
Reminiscing the scent of their native land, the sweet patchouli oil.
As they trudge through barren land, lost hope and ****** soles mark their path
This coloured discrimination instigates fair feelings of wrath
A helplessly agitated mind and yet they stand still
With wistful eyes, devoid of their free will.
At night, they sing to themselves songs of a land far away
As they drift off to a restless sleep, dreaming of being back there someday
Scalding feelings of entitlement and vengeance have taken birth and clouded minds
Working on indigo and cotton fields, on merriment and mirth have been drawn white blinds.
No matter how clean the records, the message is loudly heard
"When looked upon as a blue jay, you can never be a mockingbird"
These words passed down through generations deny them their say
Day to night and night to day but time couldn't change the black man's dismay.
Wanted is colour in life but shunned is coloured life
This clash of colours holds no value, only adding on to people's strife
So while i stand here trying to fathom out the meaning of it all
I hope, someday, realisation will take down this coloured wall.
eyes on my skin
hands on my hair

eyes on my words
hands on my thoughts

eyes on my home
hands on my rights

eyes on my fun
hands on my slog

eyes on my past
hands on my fate

eyes on my womb
hands on my kin
for T.M.C.
--
the ones that teach you,
who lift you up over
their heads
in good faith,
these are their stories.
Michael T Chase Mar 2021
Buzz of electricity.
Snow refrozen in the night air.
Laundry veins cooing.
Trees standing without wind.
Clear sky calling to other life.
A chair of safety and the silver spoon.
What would life be like as a Native or a Black, an Hispanic or Asian?
How much more alone would I feel?
How much more understanding would I need to be?
How much would history paint me?
Would prisons call out for me?
Would ghettos know my name?
Would people condescend?
Lisa Jan 2021
I am you, you are me
There is no difference inside to see
The color of your skin, hair or eyes
Does not represent what’s inside.
Physical traits come from the family tree
They give roots, history and a sense of identity
But inside we have the same blood, the same heart
So when does prejudice begin to take part?
Babies are born without preconception
They feel love and comfort from their caregiver’s affection
Their new eyes are blind to ignorance
They see through a clear lense and don’t see difference
As they develop, society gives them glasses,
Their vision gets clouded by the opinions of the masses
The lenses get darker as they grow
They filter the world to see only colors they know
Differences become obstacles, not celebrated.
Leaders tell them who to respect and who should be hated.
These biased views could remain for a lifetime
And then they’re passed down to the next one in line.
Opinions are essential, shared thoughts educate.
But when they’re bigoted and hateful we cannot tolerate.
Take those blinders off, take a look around.
There’s so much joy in diversity to be found
Don’t let the blindfold give such a narrow view
Don’t be complacent and take what is given to you
Rip off the filter, open your eyes
Find connection, common experience, destroy the lies
Revel in these connections, learn from one another
We’re all trying to get through from one day to the other
See through the skin, the hair, the accent
To the core of the HUMAN BEING with love and respect.
Lotus Jan 2021
BLM
You watch these videos
Of people shouting BLM
Because if your black you are condemned
To them,
Because to them you are not equal
And somehow ****** is legal
But only if your a white cop,
SAY MY NAME
My name is Rayshard Brooks,
I am only 37,
I feel asleep in the cops car,
Resulting in me being restrained and shot because I was believed to be intoxicated,
SAY MY NAME
My Name is Daniel *****,
I am 41,    
I died in 2020,
I died due to strangulation from cops,
They used their body weight to slam me to the ground and strangle me,
SAY MY NAME
I am George Floyd,
I am 46 years old with a child,
A cop sat on my neck for 8 minutes and I died due to strangulation,
I had a kid and a wife,
SAY THEIR NAMES
Their names and lives are more important than your privilege,
SO speak up and speak loud,
Because you are their voice,
You can be the voice of the unheard,
And the misrepresented.
blondespells Dec 2020
Lily Kesha Gump

Sittin' on the curb of Bronx and Main Street

How I wish I could wrap my arms around you

Sweet little lady, lookin’ grown with a picture of her mama’s stare frozen on her face

Wrists slung through the spaces of her thighs, waiting for a daydream

And she sees me as I’m twirling by in my ruby reds and thigh high leather grace



There you go darlin,

She says to me  

Scoring on my indigo smile

She bites men to sleep

With the crevices of her curves

As her voice weakens wicked

she pulls me out of my gloom



There you go darlin,

She says to me

With a time bomb ticking

On my pain pain pain

And the pen is in my hand

Before she even leaves my sight



I love this city

I love these women

I love their shoes

I love their smiles

Cheeky little laughs  



Someone once recommended

When I was dancing under the shades of a neon lamp  

From Homeless to Harvard

by a woman named Liz or Marie

Or maybe I read the title off of a screen
when I walking with Maryanne on north Peachtree street


And I remember


Lily Kesha Gump

How I wish I could wrap my arms around you

And give you the life some white woman

who doesn’t even know you

Thinks you desire.
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