Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Sharde' Fultz Feb 2017
HIStory So White  
I'm so sick and tired of hearing about HIStory and its butchery.
It's like every time I go online I'm clicking on what reveals another lie.
Another untold fact.
Another white-washed tale.
Another brother or sister's story to which they said, "What the hell, it's just another *****. Who they go'n tell?"
But that's not what they teach us "******" today
Or the rest of the world
And they smile in our face like its all okay.
History so white, man.
HIS story SO white!
But it simply doesn't add up when we all know this nation was built off the Black man's  plight.
By virtue of the blood sweat and tears we poured into this land we took what we were given and molded it into minds of business and healing and growth.
But HIStory wouldn't let you know.
They saw our creativity and ingenuity and either claimed it as their own
Or conveniently failed to mention us for so long
Not giving credit where it's due until you and your whole family's dead and gone
It's 2017 and we still don't know what REALLY went on.
So no, I can't trust this place.
Not with me and my people.
This U.S.of A. That's supposed to be breaking race
Boundaries
But it seems to me we take a step forward and two steps back
Why are our prisons filled to the rim with Blacks?
I wanna trust you, America. I really do.
But you aren't giving me much to work with.
I know there are worse places to be.
Honestly.
But I don't always feel like THIS place is for me.
Like, its not always also MY land of the free.
28 days of hollow black reverence doesn't do me much of a service
Besides a reminder of how much you deserted US and OUR histories.
Cause HIStory SO white.
I wanted to write something in honor of black history month.
Sienna Luna Jan 2017
The first of any month

is strange like

the peeling of a

hard boiled egg

where the sharp shards

if shell get all

stuck up

in cold fingernails

and the rubbery white

sphere of molded egg

jiggles and slips

plopping hard

on the white tiled floor

but it never breaks

just keeps it's shape

staying whole and

rolling off past the kitchen

and onto the warm

living room rug

where it stays

stuck and melting

becoming one with

the ruby red color

like a round white eye

glaring up at the world

unable to blink.
Aliya N Raissa Dec 2016
I never loved September
Ever

It was always an ugly month for me
Somehow it's full of bad luck
And unpleasant things happened
There's no joy in that month

Summer ended
Relationships tore apart
Days full of bore
And silence is everywhere the air is

I hate it

Maybe i was cursed
Maybe the month hates me
So does the weather, the skies
And the leaves that fall from tree

Although, one thing did love me
A man from September
You know who you are
You know its about you

You know i was cursed
And yet you love me too
Darrel Weeks Oct 2016
Of beauty is the Spring
It's vivid colours born from the rich earth
Its nature is a tale of rebirth
There is a hint of heaven in its hands
Look at its vilified pleasure
Never by her own design
Spring is the only prayer offered by god as love

Clouds gather cotton candy
Where we walk a carpet of yellow blue and red
Now the pleasure is within the bud
Gathering the fruit it will burst it's coat
Feed the world with its offering
Gone is the darkest of days
There is no longer a need to hide in the shadows

The empty time that moves autumn to spring
Is a fading memory always
Often the distractions have no meaning
The careful child like hue
Is a walk along a cherry tree path
Where the congregation of angels stand
A celebration of the wild and the new

Mother nature weeps tears of laughter
As she offers what was hidden
To the days of the warming breeze
Will the flowers replace her heart
You have to build the wall to see the light when cracks appear
Spring nature seasons rebirth love
River Scott Aug 2016
It's been
1 month
730 hours
43800 minutes

Since I left
Since I walked away
Since I realized, that you,
were not what I wanted
that you didn't treat me
the way you should

I realized, happy
shouldn't be fleeting
shouldn't be just you and I
shouldn't be, just here and there

Now I'm alone
And I'm not sure that's any better.
Why can't I just let it go.
PoetheticSoul Apr 2016
Growing up she was taught the earth was sweet, and that
People were kind. As she grew older she found the deceptive
Ones were the people she trusted the most. the earth became
The only thing that could be relied upon. the fruit that grew from
The soil, couldn’t be any more bittersweet just like the life she
Was given.

All she ever knew was to give love freely, but that others would
Take it away like it meant nothing. chances would be given,
Excuses would be accepted. crying became a normal habit
Just the same as with eating and breathing. words spoken
Couldn’t heal the pain the pain that was hidden deep
Beneath the scares she bore.

Time passed, years slowly ticked by and her heart was in the same
Drought that would happen every summer in her town.
The reasons she believed in life and love became clear to
Her as she discovered her true self worth. The rotten berries
Were tossed into the garbage, just as her heart was by the
Ones who claimed to love her. She no longer hid the scars upon
Her but left them uncovered and open, proud that she
Became the person she needed to be for her own sake.

The struggles in life gave her lessons she needed,
The lies taught her to tread carefully in paths of those who
Claimed to be the sunrise and sunset in her skies.
The bad had turned to good, and the once good had turned into bad.
The memories she had would never be taken from her heart,
But it was time for a better start.
This piece is written about people in life who are toxic for you but, you still believe and give them every vital part of you in the process. You give and give until nothing can come out anymore. This piece is for anyone who has been abandoned or betrayed by a loved one (doesn't have to be a romantic form of love). Sometimes we have to act like a plant, let the rotten fruit fall away, and have a growth of a fresh fruit to become what we are meant to be.
PoetheticSoul Apr 2016
Perfection is a disease that most everyone is suffering from.

We all strive for it, some die because of it, and some make it an obsession.
PoetheticSoul Apr 2016
YOU
The thing is that I love you too much, so much I cannot even gather the strength or boldness to admit my deepest, most pure, sincere feeling for the person I call a dear “friend”.  I find myself dreaming of you continuously, it is maddening how much I think about you. Do you care? I’m certain you have never thought of me. You have no idea how much I wish to be in your space, overtaking every inch of room like oxygen that you are breathing in.  I long to be the bed sheets that cling to your iced mocha stained skin, caressing you each night as you fall asleep. I would be greeting you with warmth each morning, with comfort and a sense of peace. If I could I would be your favorite playlist, each song feeding your mood and emotion. I would give everything to be like the shoes that are perfectly snug on your feet helping to guide your steps where only peace would lead.  Whenever you work, I only hope to be the pen in your hands carefully sketching words or pictures down on paper, so that you do not forget. I will be the skies that bring you sunshine and raindrops upon your clothed skin. I desire to be the shade from a cloud over your head as you walk; everyday making an impact in your atmosphere. The stars in the sky would not dare be compared to the beauty of the entirety of you. The way you laugh like you are ashamed to be heard, the serious look of concentration etched upon your face like an astounding piece of art held in one of the most prestigious museums. Your smile could put me into my grave at any moment. Nothing compares to you, nothing replaces you, and nothing I could want but you.
lil j Apr 2016
tell me about all the time you spent rearranging the furniture afraid of the silence being more comfortable than your duvet
Sam Mar 2016
it is not new news that dreams do come true
only when the moon is as blue as the skies clear hue

but, i think, this month; maybe it is due
Next page