Painted realize Real lies Contoured my jawline Choked out fragmented, underchewed bites of asinine rhymes Forcing my way back up mucked in stomach enzymes Didnt anyone ever tell you to take your time? Take smaller bites? Or like women with strong personalities you bit off more than you could chew? Drank far less tea than you once thought to brew Did your mother ever blame herself when you couldnt finish your plate, Or were you forced to sit there until its contents were scraped Like the walls of my brain? Digging my nails so deep into my hair i siphoned a drain Relinquishing my lungs from the broth of my distain Now that's where she really sealed my fate; Letting you up from your dinner place before you cleaned your nightly plate And so forth you learned what you wanted to take Was alright with the woman who slaved hours of her day away For the perfect texture, Temperature, Taste testing testamur SO WHY NOT ME? No man will ever know all the baby hairs ive tamed, Couches ive rearranged, Backs of earrings I've misplaced, Shaved my legs, Beat my face, Smeared a fragrance down the nape n pinned my curls back only to let them fall with the grace you couldn't show. Setting the dinner table, to which I was prone, Pouring tea for two until I realized I was drinking alone.
i think i often represent the butterfly i so often speak of frail and weak in every step- my plain brown wings are just like the papery disgusting skin i want so badly to break out of, revealing my clearwinged beauty. but i've adapted to this form- i've changed. who cares for being disgusting- better to simply scare away the predators with my big nose and buggy eyes. who cares for being unloved- i do, for solitide is survival in this concrete jungle. but i know better. i am no graceful, gentle butterfly. satyrs are still lovely, despite being different, and i am not lovely. i know that these white wings cannot and will not be silenced. the beating drum behind me says otherwise. i am not butterfly. i am a falcon, and i do not dare hide behind a mask of a face. no-
i fight and claw my way out of it.
this is really more of a vent than a poem, but i still feel something important in it. i hope you enjoy.
It smells of coldness masked by futile central heating And there is the stereotypical worn out carpet that way too many feet have scuffed along Oh and the carpet is red Of course And the china is bestrewn along narrow ledges because obviously that is the safest place to keep them But it was probably china from charity shops that had lived in many a house similar to this very one And the stairs are warped from countless feet lumbering (or in some cases waddling) up them Don't forget that any possible space on a window ledge or wooden beam is prime positioning for the four year old granddaughters artwork Or some tribal totem pole that was bought from a souvenir shop in that zoo And there are dog hairs everywhere But who doesn't love dogs?
You know racism. Stereotypes. But doesn't it ****. When you realize. That in the situation. It actually fits them. I thought it wasn't supposed to. I thought it wasn't true. But then again. Why would they make them? If it didn't happen? Judging others. Said to be a dumb fence. But when it's true. Does that mean it's an offense? People of another race. Are usually rude to me. I am white. Also Puertorican. But who would think I was? And who they was. Isn't that unfair. That they were what is thought as bad as a swear. What can you do? When bad stereotypes and actions. Just keeps passing down. It makes me frown. Makes me feel like. Being open-minded. Is just a clown. I don't like it when it's true. It makes those people who say it is. Not just a rue. I am not going to be like them of course. But it is annoying. When it's as true as the source.
Being black Being LGBTQ Being muslim Just being me Or you just being you
We’re all supposed to be on the same team At least in my head But some people are close minded And want to see some of our teammates dead
Here’s something Jermine Hodge, a young black man said “I’m just like you a human red blood Emotions a moving figure Why should you treat me Like I’m about to pull the trigger?”
Over the centuries blacks have been discriminated Because of the color of their skin Causing a whole population of HUMANS to become sadder But at the end of the day we all bleed the same color So why should what’s on the outside even matter?
Being black, that automatically means you deal drugs And all the homies you hangout with, they’re just a bunch of thugs Who play with guns and are thieves Who gets chicks knocked up with their baby and then just leaves
Black people are the ones who walk around with sagging pants The ones who get bullied by the police over “suspected suspicion” and not remaining a “proper stance”
If they walk around in the wrong neighborhood it gives that scared white woman a good reason to dial But really it’s just a good opportunity to flash the blue lights and racially profile.
People say brown kids were born to end war between the two races But people who are racist at heart, won’t stop their cruel ways just because they see more brown faces
I don’t experience racism? That’s what they think But I’ve gotten called the N word ‘cause My skin isn’t like milk, it’s kinda like a mixed drink
And being ***? Nope “that’s a sin” God forbid us to love who WE wanted but little did he know love always wins
If you’re a man in love with a man, You’re obsessed with fashion and have a high pitched voice You see? We didn’t ask you we just insisted without giving any other choice.
And you’re a ******* if you have tattoos, piercings and short hair And act like you have nothing to lose If you are in love with the same gender you don’t love god! Imagine what it’s like to be in his shoes!
You can’t judge someone because of who they identify as or who they love If it’s not affecting your life, it’s not something you should be concerned of
Now, Muslims. I guess they’re all terrorists huh? But I guess we judge an entire nation of people Based off of a few unfortunate attacks and call out the whole religion. DUH
If you’re wearing a Burqa or Hijab you get judged and looked at because you’re an assumed terrorist Yes 9/11 was a tragic day but we can’t blame all Muslims because of it
People will criticize no matter what But I can tell you what one of society’s errors is The muslim that sleeps in my house every single night IS NOT A ******* TERRORIST
White people get looked at as the racists ones But I can tell you that this stereotype isn’t true Because my white mom has many brown daughters and sons And my white grandmother on my dads side has 21 children 18 of them being adopted black kids, she took them all in because they were so beautiful and held her heart captive.
Negrophobia, Xenophobia, Homophobia, and Racism These are all made up things for glamorizing human criticism.
The point of this poem was to debunk what stereotypes do Also to remember never let lies and other people’s beliefs stop you from being unapologetically you