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It’s a privilege,
a responsibility, an advantage,

(topped-up by a Y chromosome for some)

which can't be worn lightly.

Let’s not kid ourselves -
despite the painted ceilings
God is not a white man
God doesn't carry chromosomes
or gender-bearing genitalia.

God designed all that for us to enjoy
out of a love of diversity
out of a mischievous plan for procreation
out of a need to be reflected in more than one gender
because one was not strong enough
to bear the full weight of God's image alone.

Being white is a privilege,
a responsibility, an advantage
placed on our shoulders by successive generations
who denied, pushed down, held back and
placed into submission
the rest of God's rich palate
of humankind.

God is not a white man -
No, they agreed upon the olive skin
of a chosen, a select people
and wore that dark complexion with pride.

God is not white.
God is translucent.
Recommend the book 'God is not a white man and other revelations)'
Colorful, it was!
Soon all the colors mixed up,
And turned into black..!
That's how the life goes, right na?? 🙃🙃

Anyway, I'm back again... 🙂🙂
Turquoise you make my heart go blue
Not in a sad way
But in a deep way
You remind me of lengthy walks on a Spring afternoon
The turquoise gutters on a home
The turquoise eyes of a Siamese cat
You are the colour of wisdom
The voice of reason
The smell of a mother's scent
A glass vase displayed in a windowsill
The sun shines through
My favourite shade of blue
sean achilleos
The world is a spicy *** of diverse races
that exhibits colours pleasant on different faces.
Each race revealing features distinct and unique
of varying hair texture but uniform physique.
Oh yes, you know undoubtedly that I am black.
But still my black heritage does not prestige lack
because my black beauty is revealed in the dark.
Oh yes, you all know that I am Caucasian white,
with my magnificent ocean blue eyes for sight.
I am blonde, brunette and red haired with fair skin light.
Oh yes, you know that I am oriental yellow,
having traits distinct that nature itself did bestow.
We look alike but vary from fellow to fellow.
Oh yes, you know I'm middle-eastern or Indian brown.
I adore my skin tanned and hair black as a crown.
I have a pleasant heritage of Asian renown.
A diverse world of many races
there may
   or may not
certain colours
that the human eye
is unable
to see
an insipid
an unpalatable
each said
to be impossible
for our eyes
to process;
if seen
it could appear
in all manner
of forms
but would remain

they say that
butterflies can see
the ultraviolet spectrum
and that
the honey bee
sees in infrared;
and so
it would not
be too absurd
for a person
to dismiss
the "impossible"
to believe
in the possibility
of the as-yet

the only way
to perceive
these "forbidden" hues
is through trickery
and constraint
by forcing the brain
into seeing both
antagonistic colours
without reprieve
until the border
the opposing shades
finally dissolves

there may be
a truth
but it is hidden
somewhere between
the plausible
   yet impalpable
and the proven
   yet proselytised
She stands in the distance,
The smell of a memory on her hands
Old blankets and old incense,
Old meals and tangerine melancholy and wick-fire soot,
The smell of sharp turpentine and paint
Reaching for me, like tentacles floating in the air.

She stands in the distance,
Sunbeams dripping from her fingers
She stands, with a question on her face
And I watch her, and I can only imagine
Time standing still, frozen; my soul immortalized in a single stroke of tantalizing yellow
I am made of paint and light.
My heart goes when it speaks the truth
As the sun rises from the east
And the golden torches all the universe
The way love comes and brings hope.
My heart goes when it speaks the truth
The way wind blows the fragrance flowers
That blossom beautifully
Showed me all colours so we can see,
And we learn that our life is like a rainbow after the rain poured in
So we will together stand to see.
My heart goes when it speaks the truth
After the last day, you leave me
And for now, I will leave you
To see I've loved you,
Don't remember me because my heart always follows the truth
And love always needs to give a peace
On every lip left by a kiss.
Indonesia, 12th March 2022
Arif Aditya Abyan Nugroho
Willow SR Feb 28
i've lived so long
being told that i was pink
but i've come to realize
i've never seen that colour
within myself
I'll be the sea, fatuous and chaotic
You be the sky, melting into marigolds above me
Tasting colours, orchards of hues
Close my eyes and lift up my libation
All my arid poems of sybaritic self pity
Sand on my lips, wind sweeping my hair, seashells in my ears
Salty spray on my eyelashes
You're my sweet clemency, verdure and elusive
I want all of you, your ochre and your chartresue and your auburn melting into each other
I want your contradictions and contraindications and complications and dreary storms
Your bleak Tuesdays, your burnt clouds, your blurry edges
Your unknowable horizons
And your azure, pastel and electric, harsh and soft, misty and empty

Do I need to spell it out, darling
I want to kiss you, isn't it obvious
I wrote this watching the sunrise on the beach.
Storytime: yesterday i had a movie moment
I sat on the pier with wind sweeping me and read Jane Austen staring at the horizon. Then i tried to go for a meditative walk on the beach, but i couldn't stop thinking about all the ***** that could at any moment pinch my toes and i ended up going back home.
I guess the lesson is - dont over exert yourself and your movie moments. Also, watch out for those crustaceous little *******.
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