My blood tells me a different story to my soul.
My passport has a stamp I cannot recognize,
An accent invades my tongue that I cannot pinpoint-
I am from many worlds
And I sing the songs of many souls.
My scattered roots find a way to your lonely tree,
And in my own confusion
I become the master of empathy.
You're so called 'difficult' name rolls off my tongue
And I'll have you convinced that we are kin.
Is no barrier on the grounds
of those who know no bounds
Every time you rhyme
everything sounds the same
but when I rap exact
I find it a bit inane
so you'll find in my lines
that the sound has changed
inside your mind I'm spreading a taint
with a sound so new you get inundated
with thoughts so ******* that yours get faded.
Rap is a game and this is how I play it
chew the brain food
this the way I cater
pursue the obtuse
so I form my cadence
eschew the assumed
treat the invaders
like they’re your neighbours
accommodate new thoughts
until they sound the same as
Can be interpreted to be about tolerance, for the rhymes that don't perfectly conform, and draws parallels to tolerating new cultures to create "a new sound" or in other words, live harmoniously. Also Slant eyes is a slant rhyme with slant rhymes, which the poem is full of. I'm sorry I'm quite cheesy and naive.
white hands are magnetically attracted to my tresses
the way they bounce when i'm running to the bus stop
how it curls from the top to the bottom.
when i tell people what i am
they nod and say,
"no wonder you have that hair."
i wake up in the morning conscious of my existence
the whiteness of my father's father is not present in my skin
but it is there in the way i talk on the phone,
"ain't" and "finna" tucked neatly into the corners of my teeth.
when my boss sees me for the first time in person,
they will part their mouth slightly and say,
"you're so unique."
the latinos at school are lighter than me
their hair is straighter than mine
and their spanish is much more polished.
when they heard my first grammar mistake
they frowned and said,
"oh great, another ******* coconut."
i will die an oxymoron, a paradox
a cultural clusterfuck who doesn't know what a border is.
i will die undefined, unknown, as a variable in a math problem
written by the hands of a white man
who thought everything could be solved
if it was done his way.
poem about being mixed race... yeah?
To my local chippy - they're Korean-
to order a Kitkat deepfried in batter.
Odds of survival beat Macky Dee's
cold pasteurised faecal matter.
is a # ... read : abstract
to place limits ... read : abstract
on infinity ... read : object
To count the colors in a rainbow,
Or to catch a rainbow,
Or to describe a rainbow,
You forfeit perfect vision.
Diagnosis : become knocked off of your feet
Look at a drop of water Up Close In the Sunlight
Refract light when you feel full
Growing up in an Asian household
Dating out of my race was something my parents would scold
Bringing home a white man made my parents question what honor would I uphold
Despite all the criticism, I gave them a sight to behold
One by one I see the disapproval on their face
When I bring someone home that is not of my race
All I hear is murmurs and whispers of how I am a disgrace
But I muted all the muttering because with him everything was in place
— The End —