All history is Black history,
wrapped in the shadows of time,
obscured by secret purpose and motive.
The Mother of mankind is as black as night itself,
the rich earth as dark as the space between stars.
History IS Black, and a month barely begins
to scratch its near-inscrutable surface.

I'm done it's over
No more no less
I'm done with this touture, distress
Stomach so nauseous
My mind so vicious
I can't do much more
It really won't be long before
I'm out that door
Or is that a metaphor
I really dont care anymore
My life's a *****
Lending my heart
My life my part
And nothing but pain
Nothing remains
My core is all gone
No strength to take on
This world
My head spins it's twirled
I'm weak a dieing clover
I'm done its over

Inside me was beleif
But was destroyed my mischief
I'm all gone from this life
Would I take it with a knife
To my throat
Maybe if I drowned I might float
Who cares anymore
I'm down on the floor
No more helping hands
All I can see is empty lands
Hurt so hard
A fat piece of lard
A waste of space
A complete disgrace
To the whole human race
Time to find a new place
Who am I, what am I
A monster meant to die?
So hurt inside
I tried to hide
But is death the key
Maybe then I can be free

Mischa Barton
Was given a headstart
On Dolly Parton
In a sackrace


And Won.

Run, rat, run.
Though you don’t know where to
or what from.

Live, love,
fly, die.
A cyclical life we all live by.

Disorientedly
caught in the streams
of others’ hopes and dreams.

I am a person of colour

Whose simple presence can cause outrage
they use their tongues as swords
and slay me with slurs
Whilst there are others who pretend to be my ally
but I can see their disgust in their eyes
their uneasiness in their smile

I am a person of colour

Whose beautiful traditional garments are cherry-picked
and woven into a disgusting replica
brandished on “Designer labels”
and mocked as exotic

I am a person of colour

Whose skin is secretly envied by them
they exhaust their expenses on tanning salons
and “bronzing” creams
Yet simultaneously they spit on my “darkness”
and promote their products with the so-called beauty of “lightness”

I am a person of colour**

I shall not hide my anger at their ignorance
I shall wear my skin with pride
Because being a person of colour
No matter what I do or how I conform
They will never be satisfied

Black power!

I stopped hiding from my roots, I do not let my natural tightly coiled strands become chemically manipulated into bone straightness. I'm no longer hiding from my roots.
My natural hair will represent this

I went on an interview today for a position as a dental assistant, checked out the office on the website right after and then
oh no
The staff is all white, what if I don't get hired because of...

Black Power!

I stopped hiding from my roots; the sun is not my enemy. I no longer veil from its rays because the fear of getting "blacker." Look at that skin; love its rich deep melanin. Follow my movement; I'm no longer hiding from my roots.
My black skin will prove this

The other night I went out with a couple of new friends,
to be more precise they were homemade Alantians.
Born and raised in Atlanta!
It was a nice warm night, and at the end of it they wanted to take some pics to post up on their instagrams. But guys wait; let’s get into the light, I don’t want to appear all dark next to you light brights. You are all mixed which makes you effortlessly good lookin'
snap
Ugh I hate it I'm to black, don’t post that.

I stopped hiding from my roots, I rock my tightly coiled natural strands.
I'm not ashamed of who I am, Look at my skin and its deep rich melanin  
Walking with my fist raised up in the air to represent what I on a daily contradict.

Black Power!

Forgive me, I'm new to this. When I was growing up the things that embodied our black nation was never accepted.

Black power! I'm ready to follow this radical movement.

you've left me breathless.
no, seriously,
you almost killed me once.

it happened about a year ago,
i was on my bed
and it was hot.
the kinda hot
that also makes it
difficult to breathe.
and i thought of you
and one thing led to another...
anyways,
i had tied a belt around my neck
to make it
as if you were really present
there in the hot hot room.
and the experience was A+
until i was almost there
at the finish line
and i couldn't get the belt off
and i rolled around on the bed
desperate for a way outta that mess.
i fell off the bed
onto those dusty floors i never sweep.
the belt buckle cracked.
so did my back but it was fine,
a bit sore though.
and then the race was finished
and the teammates
had shot outta the pen to celebrate.
and i'd run out of tissues.
i was crying.
it had been a terrifying thing
but for the second time in my short life
i'd felt like i loved someone.
of course
that wasn't true.
but it was a nice feeling.
one i'll never forget.
so thank you for all that.
(i bought a new belt later on
that week if you were wondering).