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It’s the mirror you don’t look into,
the one without the morals,
emotions, doubts and fears.

How much wisdom do you gain
in confronting your older self,
tailing it thru a city of statues
and bridges, fighting with it
in the catacombs amidst
an audience of smiling skulls?

You have trained to be the good soldier,
one that doesn’t doubt the orders given,
tuned your mind to see the world
as targets and you as the weapon,

happiest when flat on your belly
and ready to pull the trigger,
letting the bullet be the arbiter
that makes sense of the world,
knowing at your martial core
your country deserves
the perfect version of you.

You don’t close your eyes
as you watch the bullet’s flight,
follow the darkness you must walk thru,
knowing sleep is where the ghosts are,
and the blink where the pain resides.

You think of your father
and his raised hands,
how your creator
tries to **** you
when you turn
and develop a conscious.

You don’t doubt
you are better than that.
“I love you son.
Don’t let yourself down,”
you imagine the bullet howling.
Or is it the far away man
in your gun sight?

You see yourself dying
to be in a relationship,
a husband, father,
all the things he got
and you will never get to be.

As the bullet nears its target,
all those things knock you
back in the gun’s recoil and
you know that he deserves to die.
I'm sick of being the good guy,
With intentions that you may like.
I'm tired of being supportive,
Because sometimes you really aren't right.
I'm afraid if I open the cage,
The lid won't close quite as tight.
If I let this world see my rage,
They will see me in a different light.

I've wrote about my father before,
It's been a war that I've fought since ten
But I was sick of seeing a devil play victim,
So I wrote him one last letter
And deleted him out of my life again.
I can curse in times when I'm ******,
It's real ******* nice to be free. I promise,
the next person who thinks I'm looking for privilege,
When I talk of my allergies.
Will get uppercut so many times they will only look up to see,
I'm a survivor, not a victim
So kindly shove off if you'd please.

People love to be supportive,
They read one thing I wrote,
You should get published,
All these people would love it,
Would you buy a copy? Well, no.
But imagine who would!
You might make fortune and fame.
That's funny, I will save my money,
But I love the dreamy game
I should tell, I know who would buy it,
Even if I don't publish, my mother still loves me the same.
She dances with her best dress on even when everyone is standing still,
She speaks her mind even when everyone tells her to be quite,
She has a dream even when everyone is looking for a man,
And that doesn’t make her less of a woman.
He cries when he is broken,
He shows his feelings even when everyone is acting tough,
He has a dream even when everyone is looking for a woman,
And that doesn’t make him less of a man.
They sing even when they don’t know the words,
They laugh even when life gets hard,
They love even when the world is full of hate,
Because that doesn’t make them less of a human.
The greatest moment
Of my life
Is when I saw
His beautiful face
After two years
After trials
And tribulations
The strength I need
To live
To love
To care
To give
To be me
The greatest moment
Of my life
Is when I saw
His beautiful face
Thank you, God.
You are near.
moments of visioning a great man
She paused
on the edge
of the kerb,

unaware
he saw her
standing there
in all her beauty,

dressed in jeans
and top
and fair hair
******* behind.

She looked both ways
as traffic passed
in a continued flow.

But he didn't
want her to go;

he wanted her
to remain
for his eyes to feast,
for his mind to dream,
for his joy
of seeing beauty
in a world of dross
and ugliness.

She moved
backward and forward
on her feet,
onto toes
and back on heels
and toes again.

He sipped his coffee
and gazed at her
from the window
of the cafe.

But then
she moved off
and across the road
as the traffic paused,
and she was gone
from sight,

but he had
the captured memory
to replay at night.
My dark skin became my enemy at one point

It became my enemy, because I thought a man could never love a dark skin yet ******* up individual like me

And

Most of the men I liked were attracted to women of the lighter complexion or opposite end of the color spectrum

But I failed to realize that

My dark skin was rich with radiance,

Beauty,

Strength,

And power

My dark skin failed to crack as I’m growing older

Failed to blemish to too much sun

Even failed to whelp up after childhood whippings

My dark skin hasn’t lost its touch

My faith just diminished

Because of worldly views

The Bible warned me of

I was young and dumb

Yet still truly blessed by the color of my skin
Working on loving my skin daily
Skin is so deeply rooted with scars of my ancestors

Smooth as a newly paved road yet deeply flawed by life

Patiently awaiting the touch that makes it OK to be touched

Covered by sheets of cloth so the beauty won’t be visible

Washed daily and lotion up yet eyes still wonder

Questions of ‘What do you feel like’ or ‘****, why are you so soft’?

While the skin is so deeply rooted with scars of my ancestors,

My skin still lacks the will to withstand temptation, lust, and premarital *******

Vowing the will of celibacy,

I see him and he gives me strength to be as strong as he

I would say ‘Thank you’,

But he just makes my skin tremble for his owns.
I've been insecure about my skin, because most days it becomes hard to love in this world. My Skin is beautiful.
The slightest tilt of your head

Showcases the different pigments

Of your skin.

From the caramelized brown

To the Hershey's Dark Chocolate

And rose colored pink of your lips

If I could draw you

It wouldn't be so hard

But my hands weren't formed to be a drawer but a poet

From the caramelized brown

To the Hershey's Dark Chocolate

And rose colored pink of your lips

Let my words keep you calm

While I try my best to

Reciprocate the same words

As my own.

"The things I would do to you..."

The different shades of brown

Keeps me in a trance

Unknowingly loving every

Part of it

Your pigment becomes my escape route

From the caramelized brown

To the Hershey's Dark Chocolate

And rose colored pink of your lips

Your pigment is you

Is us
black couple equals black love
My Black Black Man
The Walls of your Mind
Beckon only a Unique kind
The Love of a full Woman
An illusioned witness to
the Truth behind You
and your fettered prime, can
Be more black, more diaspora than
thee. Educated with sight
Yet conflicted by societal rite
And a King in every Troubled Stage
Unable to Fight
Can or cannot Love right?
My Black black man.
Two Cities, bitter enemies;
Two Cities, truest foes

The First was from eternity,
The Other from the shadow

The First descended from the sky,
The Other from the ground

The First had but a King on high,
The Other Creation crowned

Both Cities do contain the whole
But One contains it all

Both Cities do contain the whole
But One contains it all…

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