Just enough
the end is close
No tears dropped
Forgiveness for some
Other forgot us
We’re not with you
We’re leaving cerebellum
I am not alone
Too late for thinking
Just free me now
Or I will jump
Don’t push me yet
It’s not your turn
I am leaving first
Don’t catch me, stop
Thank you a lot
For helping me, stop
Get out of my thoughts
Enough

what would force a wise septuagenarian to imagine himself
President of the USA?

Could it be
A ghost of war's glory days in the
grand old industrious gay nineties
days of smokestack landmarks of civic pride,
as seen by stevedores loading dry buffalo hides,... nay,

I trow not... war as imagined in a wise septuagenarian,
has no glory, but value, in depleting the other
side, and

rubbing away the bank on that distant shore, make it

seem so much further away...

what would force a wise septuagenarian to imagine himself
herself President of the USA?
see who salutes, nobody salutes
but military minds, tie-wearers.

nope, nothing comes to mind as reasonable,
save
pride

a broken-spirited, old-mind-bound hero-sell-out,
in my opinion,

with a plan to scuttle spaceship earth.

Okeh. We stop that. What next? It gets better.

I don’t believe in color and in the fact that the color of one’s skin defines their identity.
I believe in upbringing and education.
I believe in the fact that people are affected by where they grow up and their family.
Being black doesn’t make me behave in a certain way.
Being black just protects my skin and cells a bit better from UV light.
I never noticed anybody becoming someone else because they became tan.
People wouldn’t assume that somebody with brown eyes would act or think differently solely based on that fact.
What I mean is that people should never stop at the color of one’s skin but rather try to dig a bit more and understand the person,
How they think, what they’re made of.
Some people say that being color blind is not enough, that we need to see color in order to make things right.
I don’t believe so and I can explain.
Not seeing color doesn’t mean being oblivious to people’s problems,
Not seeing color means that the color of one person doesn’t matter,
That it’s not what gives them or cost them value,
That their problems should be tackled with the same strength and endurance, regardless of what they look like,
That the only thing that should matter is the situation that person is in.
Correlations can be found between a lot of different parameters.
Showing a correlation is different from showing a cause-effect link.
We should always try to understand the root of a problem
In order to treat the cause of a disease rather than only the symptoms,
Because treating symptoms will never help us get rid of the illness,
Only make it less painful to live with.
I can be black and like hip hop because I like the rhythm.
I can be black and like hip hop because some lyrics resonate with my experience.
I can be black and like hip hop because I like looking at the girls in the video clips.
In which sentence could I have not substituted black by white, brown, or Asian?
Money can have color but poverty doesn’t.
Countries have colors but values don’t.
People have colors but their identity doesn’t.
I am black, a scientist, curious about the world.
I was born in France, but my parents come from Haiti.
I speak French and English but can only understand creole.
I love Haitian dishes but everything else is far from being dull.
I live in a strange country with a society structure that I like.
There’s no big motto like Freedom, equality and fraternity
But there is “jantelagen”.
I am no better than anyone else.    
There is no reason why my voice should be listened to over another.
I am just sharing my opinion on a matter
That is crucial and that I have thought of.
If you want to know me, don’t just look at me, and think you have it all figured out,
Let’s just have a drink, let’s go out!

once you told me
i get in the way of your happiness

now, wherever my tired legs carry me
your fading shadow follows

my surroundings, nothing but props
drenched in memories, dripping our worst and best moments

if only i could soak up the residue
of the most breathtaking wave i have ever laid eyes on

remembering every deafening surf
i surrender myself to the cold pouring rain

each hard drop aches to wash off
the draining past from my empty face

once you told me
i get in the way of your happiness

but pure happiness
is just a colorless green idea sleeping furiously in our innocent minds

I'm here. You're here. It's a good day.
Nice idea, right?
But it doesn't always work that way.
Sometimes, the skies are gray.
And you don't have the energy
To find words to say.
Some days, people go away
And you can't help but feel betrayed.
But you know what?
We're still here. We still remember.
So it's still a good day.

Defender of the faith in me.
ready, instant in season, out of season -- if

as a farmer kid,
you can make any sense of that. You know,
things grow slow
and ripen too fast to ship to town,

so we wait, having sampled the green stawberry,

we learned that one of patience's first works,
after every winter in life,
is bright, wait for it, solid red strawberries.
Maybe one itty bitty mouse bite,
or wren peck, but that's okeh.

So sweet.
So I wait, defending my faith that life has a very
different way of telling time,

and uses tiny unseeable things to send instructions
when conditions are predictable
for survival of the leaven,

scattered to the heavens, when our puff ***** pop,

with help from wild little boys in my backyard,

which has never had a fence.