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Äŧül Dec 2017
They are so hard to contain,
How each one was produced,
In each of the kidney beans,
Not the pulses I talk about,
Kidney beans in a man.

Should be enough experienced,
Exceeding her expectations I will be,
Xeroxing people will be my love,
Y**et they will fail each and every time.
My HP Poem #1685
©Atul Kaushal
ZsaKaiyah Aug 2017
I am colored
I became colored
It's exclusively a colored town

White people
Rode through the town
Never lived there

Gallery seat
Enjoy the show
I liked it

I belonged to them
A little colored girl
In my heart
As well as in the mirror

I am not tragically colored
I do not mind
At all

Reminding me
I am the grand daughter
Of slaves

Suffered a sea change
It fails to register
Depression with me

Slavery is the price
I paid for civilization
The choice
Was not with me

The world
To be won
Nothing to be lost

I feel most colored
When I am thrown against
A sharp white background

Sometimes
I feel discriminated against
It doesn't make me angry

He has only heard
What I have felt
Little nothing
We have in common

He is far away
I see him but
Dimly across the ocean
Continents that have fallen
Between us

Dance wildly
Inside myself
My face
Is painted red and yellow
My body
Is painted blue

Certain times
I have no race
I am me
I belong
To no race
Nor time
I am the eternal feminine

Pour out the contents
There is discovered
A jumble of small things
Priceless and worthless
A bit of colored glass
More or less

— The End —