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).

my mother has blue eyes
but I'm still a ******
my mother has blonde hair
but I'm still a ******
my daddy is black as night
but I'm still a *******
my daddy has ***** curls
but I'm still a *******

I call this hash tag the struggle
because to be biracial is nothing
more
because to be biracial is nothing
less
than a struggle
to find who I am
to find who I should be
to find who I'm supposed to be

i really wish they were the same person
i really wish you understood hash tag the struggle
but you don't
and you won't

so stop telling me about my
good hair
and stop telling about my high
yellow skin
and stop telling me my parents have the fever
and stop staring at me when I
walk in
and stop trying to guess which parent is black
and stop trying to guess which parent is spanish

No

I'm not Spanish.

No

I don't speak Spanish.

No

You CANNOT touch my hair

Yes, my nose is in the air
Of course I think I'm the ****
Because I live my life trying to be better than women who are dark skinned ...with something I was born with
...out of my control
Of course I try to flaunt my plush lips around the white girls who get botox
who then become the have nots because I've stolen all the brothas hearts from the city and the boondocks

See you don't even know me
but you think these are my goals

see I call this hash tag the struggle because nobody understands the trouble in being whole
when you're given two halves
that don't match to patch up one soul
and you're born into a ****** up mess still expected to know

and they tell you to ignore them all
be yourself
race should not define you
but I can't even fill out two ******* boxes on a standardized test
because you are only allowed to check ONE to describe you

hash tag
**TheStruggle

A man walks home from his job
Part-time at two different places
To feed his child and give shelter
With his child's mother in place
This man would live life daily as
Best as he could like any other
Marijuana smoke helps dull pain
And heartache from another
Job and opportunity lost, cause
Of simple mistakes avoidable
Had he been more responsible
As the day draws to a close
Celebrations begin for a year
A year of renewal and promises
To improve, to provide, to guide
In his eyes he sees the fiery day
Give in to an unforgiving night

Fearful of taking an innocent life or
Having his life taken in an instant
He put faith in a train to plot
A direct course for the party
Returning home in the morning
To his little daughter and lover
Perhaps too much fun was had
A little much drink in plastic cup
Fights broke out in the live night
Of which friends of him were apart
Involving him in old hood beef
Fists met flesh but not bullet
For skin hadn't been torn by metal
Leaving human crimson along
The roadside beltway or floor
This was a rivalry among men
Whom lived without abandon
And strived for a daily dime

Men of the law would intervene
As is requisite of such actions
But reactions are destructive
Conducive to leaving lines
And plenty body bag designs
All aligned with ***** tiles
The tile that his stomach lies
As the kneecaps dig into him
Of a grown man with a life, wife,
And child in the womb of her
Similar to the man beneath him
But he reaches towards his belt
As his brother struggles below
Black like the early morning
Consuming the two of them
The fruits are veiled in this station
Fruits of deep seeded hate and
Inaction in the face of atrocities:
Glaring and gazing steadily

The shot rang out...

One. Light. Shines.
As. The. Bullet. Flies.
And. Burns. Flesh.

YOU SHOT ME!

... Echoes in the distance

Internal organs are dying
Breathes are more labored
His daughter and lover
Would find 7 hours later
That they would be left
In the distance that took him
An imperfect man slain
In an imperfect world.