Being white is a responsibility,
a privilege,
an advantage,
topped up by a y chromosome
for some,
and this can not be worn lightly.

Don't kid yourselves:
despite the painted ceilings
God is not white.
Yet being white
is a still responsibility.

And guys
God doesn't carry chromosomes
or gender defining genitalia.
God designed all that
for us to enjoy
out of His love of diversity
out of His mischievous plan
for procreational play,
out of His need to be reflected in the image of 2 genders
because one was not diverse enough
and Adam could not bear God's full image alone.

As I was saying,
being white is a responsibility -
placed on our shoulders
by each generation that
denied
pushed down
held back and
placed into submission
the rest of God's rich palate
of humankind colour.

God is not white.
No, he chose the olive skin
of His chosen, His select people
and wore than dark complexion
with pride.

God is not white.
He is translucent.

Being white is a responsibility
of our own making -
so let us bear it responsibly.

Every step is the canvas beneath our feet,
                                            when we pause,
                               we look back.
Seeing the picture
that hasn't fully been concluded.

And again we brush our feet on the earth,
                             hoping to finish that day
with either an enjoyable colour of our motions
                             or a master piece of remembering,
that will hang in our minds for a lifetime.

I remember the morning being bitter,
harsh wind bruising my forearms,
skin prickled and rough.
I had cruelty within me until I saw you
and my body shifted in time,
dimensions warping
around my self,
the fabric of space
weaving around my body.

Insulation.
Steel beams tremble under the weight
of you. Eyes, effervescent light
making the shadow beneath me
midnight grasping the earth,
pulling it into an embrace.
My heart jitters at the scent, the memory.
I cannot forget the sun in my eyes
blinding me, the sound of the ocean
seeing the city for the first time.
Now there are waves rushing against
the window panes, sand piling
at the front door.
You got what you came for
yet you never want to leave.
I think I can still breathe you
if I remember the line, the rhyme,
the way you held mine as your own.

Something.
Something about my history haunts you.
I will be heard.
You will feel heat you never knew,
have black spots in your vision
for the rest of your life,
the shape of my fingers tattooed
on your shoulder.
Hearts will blister, birds will sing,
I will fall in love over and over
again
again
again
until I have used up
every atom, every cell
blooming in a dark corner.
They can believe that happiness
is a dying song
but it screams

its way from beneath the earth,
explodes, blossoming and blossoming
into colours that don't exist,
feeling you never touched before.
It quakes and shatters and convulses
in the dark
but tells those who are lost
the way home,
tracks my hands to guide the marks
of my paint on the page.
Language, rhythm,
trace my body
and love me to the grave,
keep me in my place,
whisper to me
who I should love, who I should worship.

You. Always, only you.
Old eyes, you feel past lives
crooning, cocooning your arms
and breathing in your scent.
You know how to find light,
you know how to make my eyes blur,
to make me adore the world I see in prisms,
shifting angles. I love to an extent
no one will ever understand.
I love to an extent
that I am apart from the world.
I feel the joy of the planet,
fell in love with sight and transparency
long ago. Colour sighs
for she is weary, lost to war
and dust, but I will never forget
when she danced in the air,
illuminated particles, infinitely suspending them,
freezing them in time.
I remember how she laughed
when she stained your face yellow,
creeped into your eyes,
golden hours
spent on nothing at all.
I remember morning warmth
drenching my limbs in beauty,
breathing softly
to the whisper
of your heartbeat.

Pools of ink drench white paper.
Darkness covering a world of light.

Your piercing red body shone through a bleak world.
And as you approached me I turned blue.

You were the only colour in a world full of white.
Every time it rained you never got stained in black.

The ink never touched you.
Never filthied you.

You always stayed vibrant.
That perfect scarlet red.

You finally approached me.
A pastel blue boy.

Your smooth, tender hands all over my body.
Marking me in lilac bites.

The dull world outside shunned us.
Because we were different.

But I find comfort in your coloured arms.
Because when I'm with you, I'm no longer blue.

When you touch me, I explode with colour.
I become a lilac man.

when i look at myself in the mirror
i see something blue, something dead-eyed.
she looks at me and sees something more,
something brighter, worth loving

i look at her and i think of the ocean
eternally beautiful, endless depth
sometimes i think i'll drown but
she keeps me afloat, makes me swim

we could spend hours talking
or not speak for a whole day;
no matter the number of words exchanged
not a minute goes by that she isn't on my brain

being with her feels like promise,
like an apology from life
it says, "here, this is your happiness"
i know i don't deserve her but i'll never take her heart for granted

it's been five months
but i already have our one year marked on my calendar
and i can count the days passed
by the number of smiles she gives me

emotion was never my thing
'til an angel dressed in humanity showed me
what feeling could be like,
what love could be like without pain

the clouds are mostly grey in england,
the sky muted by dreary weather
but these days i find myself looking at the flowers instead
and she is sunshine lighting my every step

you're enthralling, the way you captivate me
less than half a year but already
you've changed so many things
you are my most extraordinary experience

you're the constellations in my night sky
and the petals blooming brightly in a once barren garden
you make me see more; you're the pastels lightening my art
there's a spark in me and now i know warmth

if you could only see yourself the way i see you,
life is no longer just grey and blue
i need you to know that i love you
thank you for bringing colour to my world

i have always loved the flowers and the birds,
loved the sunlight and the clouds that drift by
i have always loved the way the leaves move
in a breeze and that soft whispering sound they make
yet the tiredness that begun a while ago
remains like a veil over my skin
grey and cold
and as I watch the petals and the twigs that sway
outside the window
there is only a creeping sorrow where there should be joy.

i see my life hung out to dry
my memories slowly falling to the ground
my mind losing all colour
leaving behind a shell of the person i once was
slowly i shrink