"afros" poems
Gabby Abrego
I'll never let you go go
unless we go to Mexico
and you be come a hobo!
Then I'll go.
and fetch the so co.
so we can dance to disco
eat enchiladas with adobo
pick the **** out of our Afros!
We'll feel so funky,
the people will get spunky
when we arrive on donkeys,
and ride around their towns!
We'll befriend all the junkies
and give them howler monkeys,
it'll be so funny
we'll laugh until you cry!
Ohh! Gabby Abrego I'll never let you go go
unless I get you prego
then I'll run like mad!
cuz if we had a baby
I'd stop being lazy
get as famous as THE LADY
support you like Eminem did for his baby.
So Never Ever leave me
Or I'll succumb to Scientology
and go even more crazy
my world'd become a mystery.
I'd rather be a rhino
rather be tricked into a *****
rather be married to Bono
in a movie starring J.Lo
be forced to live with Yoko Ono
have red eyes like an albino
than to ever be with out
Gabby Abrego!!!
Jul 12, 2010
Jul 12, 2010 at 1:01 AM UTC
When I was young,
I had long curly hair
That cascaded down my back
Like an ominous waterfall;
So dark and thick, it seemed to go on forever.
But, when I was in school, it was always tied up.
It was a challenge for my mother to tame it with a brush
And keep it in the confines of a bun.
She said it was to keep my hair
from getting to my and others’ faces.
But some people still managed to make me feel bad for having such “unruly” hair
when the most it’s been exposed is when I take out my hair tie just to tie it back up again.
For years I tried to straighten it;
Hair rebonding every year,
Straightening iron ever morning,
Damaged hair and damaged pride every day.
They say a woman’s hair is her crown;
She must wear it with her chin up
And flaunt it unabashedly.
This is to the girls who do.
This is to the girls who dye their hair magnificent colors
To match their colorful personalities.
This is to the girls who cut their own hair
Because hair salons charge so much for a trim.
This is to the girls who shave all their hair for charity
Or for support of the girls in chemotherapy.
But this is also for the girls in chemotherapy,
Who are still thriving even though they’re suffering.
This is also to the girls whose hair are being treated like an anomaly,
Their braids being pulled and afros being patted.
This is also to the girls who can’t land a job
Because their skills were degraded by their “unprofessional” hair.
A woman’s hair is her crown
But a queen does not need a crown.
A queen is not just some girl with a shiny thing on her head.
A queen is a figure of power, compassion and grace.
She wears the crown, not the other way around.
Jul 23, 2017
Jul 23, 2017 at 5:51 AM UTC
By Arcassin Burnham
In the era,
Where frank lucus was the best gangster around,
Where people would stay down for you,
And bundled kilos by the pound,
Afros and the incredible hulk TV series,
Discos and elevator music are so in style,
Foxy browns and musical releases,
Iconic music we. Never heard in a while,
Wishing I could travel back to when Minnie had it,
Or when denese had it,
Or zapp and rogg had it,
Unsung legends that could get you motivated,
Please do not share with distorted your confrontation.
Dec 2, 2014
Dec 2, 2014 at 3:01 AM UTC
Chronic, demonic, eccentric, magic, poetic, tragic! Dreams it seems of comical or unusual! Visual sights of many sites! Plenty fights, heights, nights, plights and lights! Dreams it seems of chimes, crime, gleams and grime. Moonbeams, rhymes, screams and times. Dreams it seems as they attempt to tempt with contempt! Some become exempt
and unkempt! Dreams it seems of afros, arrows, buffalos, rainbows
and sparrows! Ample, purple-apples hung from chapels! Dreams it seems of hurdles and simple people as pimples jumping from steeples! Dreams it seems of the begotten, forgotten and rotten. Dreams and themes of cotton candy clouds! Crowds in shrouds! Dreams it seems
of the dandy and handy! Glories and gory stories of the holy or unholy. Dreams it seems of crud and mud! The loud and proud! The
vowed and wowed! Dreams it seems of blood and floods! Dreams it seems of amazing, crazing and gazing! I’m phrasing; “Is this a dream a scheme or hell?” Well I couldn’t tell! As I began to scream and
yell! Those streams of dreams that I dream… Dreams that I may, these dreams that I say. Dreams it seems in dreamy dismay.
Mar 29, 2012
Mar 29, 2012 at 10:19 PM UTC
To and fro as the saying goes
As the afros chase rainbows in search of gold
And the money's ****** dry, 'till the rich only supply
Ways to the make the poor poorer & keep the crackheads high
Then we overdose on sighs that all come at once
The teachers so underpaid that we're soon led by the dunce
And the market's like the breakers of the sea, it just crashes
The 99 sinking in ships while the one percent dashes
We find the dream of the US tainted green
Or to put it correctly, it has been tainted greed
With the day to day in ways that leads to the end
With a knife in your back while they pat it like your friend
So reliance on defiance is the key so defy
All the brainwash and the violence, raise you hands to the sky
And live
Aug 12, 2013
Aug 12, 2013 at 2:53 PM UTC
there is attitude as strong as my own in these kinks and these coils,
my Afro has a mind of its own.
she stands tall when she wants,
shrivel up when she’s cold.
sometimes shy,
she is not a people person.
my Afro only communicates with other Afros.
she ain’t stingy but she **** sure don’t like to be touched.
don’t you try to sweet talk her
when she’s in a rush.
only like a wash & oils.
sometimes gel and finger coils.
she’s amazing,
i love my twa.
Dec 13, 2018
Dec 13, 2018 at 9:03 AM UTC
Sit up straight
And listen up,
Because this is not a drill and
I am only going to say this once:
I am not ebony -
A piece of decorative wood.
Nor am I chocolate-
Ready to melt into myself with the heat of your touch.
I’m not you’re “sista” –
We are not related.
And I’m definitely not your “gurrrrl”.
We never dated.
I will tell you what I am:
You may want to take a deep breath now…
I am a Black woman.
Yes, with a capital ‘B’.
I am a Black woman.
Who is exhausted because
everything I do is silently political.
Whom I choose to dance with in the club
Is political – “is she into white guys, or black?”
The way I answer the question:
“Where are you from…?”
“No, where are you really from?”
Is political – “You look different from me, so I need to put you in a labelled box and **** at you with my mind.”
Like saying I’m from near your ends isn’t a good enough answer.
My accent?
Political – “Why is she so well-spoken? Who adopted you?”
It confuses you, because it doesn’t match my South London skin tone.
The way I choose to style my hair
Is political – I wear weaves because I want to be European and hate myself. I wear afros because I hate Europeans and love myself.
How I pronounce my own surname
Is political – Do I simplify it to spare your blushes when you mispronounce it?
The music I proudly declare to enjoy –
Political.
I must be a secret bloke – like that Serena fella of the telly.
‘Cause no fuckable girl has looks like that.
And my skinny arms?
Well, they never fed me in the orphanage, remember?. I’m obviously malnourished like my family back in the Motherland.
You say: “I don’t see race – we are all one.”
Good for you.
but, I cannot afford to pretend to be colour-blind because
I am a Black woman-
Bottom of the rung.
I am affected and I am exhausted.
I am a Black woman-
But that is not all that I am.
Are you still sitting straight?
Can you hear me in the back?
Because this is not a drill
And this woman is Black.
Jun 4, 2016
Jun 4, 2016 at 7:20 AM UTC
Nefertari
Amenities of the African lands
Indigenous black beautiful roses
Of the African soil
Dark and strong
In a black alluring archaic vogue
an amara in black woman
Sisters of samandzie
Balleting in a black dulcet rhythm
Of the African ancient song
With an
Idrissa desta
The power of Thee
Black Spiritus mundi
Brown eyes, Thick bones
Curly ***** afros
Dark is deep and strong
An authentic unique beauty of nature
Glows and Flourishing
From deep within
I like it black and strong
Dec 14, 2015
Dec 14, 2015 at 6:51 AM UTC
oh
the seasons have changed again
ten shades darker and climbing
they forgot who I was
who I am
gaining momentum
the whiteness that used to insist
that I am white
is confused
now they are leaning towards
not letting me be white anymore
till next season all over again
but this is the season of darkness
I can see it in their eyes
hear it in their voices
mostly being black in America
has been the epitome
of non violent resistance
in the season of darkness
non violent coping mechanisms
to a violent abuser
an abuser
called law
called psychology
called whiteness
called economy
untreated domestic abuse
whiteness calls honors history
dissociating from the repair work
that the American family must face
ever since I was a little
itsy-bitsy - innocent boy
the thought
the imagination
of being able to take out
a militia of whiteness
with my body alone
if and when they get as worse as they are
always prepared for the worst of whiteness
no matter what you say
cannot fool me
can I be more violent?
better at it
so I can sleep for a little while
dreams like some of the white kids
except lucid
In the season of darkness
I can prove it all wrong
the whiteness
its story
the companies it keeps
I can breathe a whole new world out
and breathe in clarity
in the season of darkness
my afros
my mohawks
mean something different
suddenly
my worth
is being threatened with an officer’s gun
peacefully letting handcuffs on
violently beaten afterward
hand over mouth
face in the cement
should out of socket
sciatic nerve damage forever
put in a cell
for the trauma
to reverberate
and echo
back into itself
in the season of darkness
whiteness was overwhelmed
without fear
domino affected
occupied whiteness
brought it down to its knees
that one percent of whiteness
is enough to get us all killed
America
in the season of darkness
Jul 24, 2016
Jul 24, 2016 at 3:42 PM UTC
Tell me do you know
How diamonds are formed?
After years of heat and pressure
Coal becomes so desirable
So black diamonds aren't rare
Rare in the slightest
Hell there's one walking down the street right now
Braided hair and skin so dark like Hershey's chocolate
Locks and supple lips and afros going across wide brown hips
Black diamonds walk among us, and believe me they're not to be missed
Jul 23, 2016
Jul 23, 2016 at 3:05 PM UTC
The cemetery trees are dancing in the wind.
Shimmying unapologetically
like a chorus line of boozed up
Burlesque dancers.
Some are tall and regal with pointed crowns,
Isosceles dresses, neat and tidy,
Complete with Pine colored tutus.
Whoosh!
Like entering a room sliding
On your knees.
Whoosh!
Like someone breathing fresh life
Into you.
Mysterious but holy,
Divine yet impermanent.
Whoosh!
Strong yet fragile,
Gliding with the wind
In this game called life.
(and death)
Some have solid legs
And big shiny afros,
Showing everyone how
It's REALLY done.
Bump. Grind.
Confident yet elegant,
Bump Grind.
Full of themselves in the
Best way possible,
Bump! Grind!
Living. Being. Rejoicing.
Others have tassels
dangling from their limbs.
Shimmy! Shake!
Shimmy! Shake!
Teasing me with their
Devastating beauty,
Shimmy! Shimmy! Shake!
Revealing my longing,
My passions,
For what?
I don't really know.
Shimmy! Shake!
Feeding me an elixir
Of fresh sweet hope
To drown freely, once again,
In immortal youth.
They all weave themselves
In the wind.
Acknowledging my existence
Through movement.
Using interpretive dance
As a symbolic conversation.
Happy to see me,
Welcoming me to their land.
Welcoming me home.
Welcoming me to
NOW.
.
Jun 13, 2016
Jun 13, 2016 at 12:07 AM UTC
**** me, now i never wished to have been born white... dating yesterday you can almost see why - makes no sense! Norwegian Bland and Canadian Eskimo!*
maybe when i'm dead you'll
understand...
or be the least likely to do so,
when, as cited, it's paratrooper proof
of a darth vader;
i'm buying the least likely bet - kindred
worth of Afghanistan poets,
and crass suck-ups of western hindering
to juggle national anthems
and gambling dishonouring...
by the fireside with dwarfs, a hobbit, i,
i rather be a Cheshire cat of a smile, to keep,
as lost and remembered
rather than be kept to unnecessary grievances:
as once did the colonial nations
ardently forgetting to no applause kept,
if i too could keep the salvage of ****** pristine labours
and never caress a history of the Congo with
the Belgians including committing deep-fry of
afros and genocide; if that happened... well...
i'd just say: gel up for the afro to turn into a mahican!
Jun 13, 2016
Jun 13, 2016 at 8:45 PM UTC
Welcome to his world
where he reigns supreme.
Hovering over you,
sprinkling seeds of dreams,
watching them blossom,
as he just steps back.
Daylight has nothing
on the mystical Night.
The night is wrought
with dreams,
both good and bad,
chasing images and places,
people and things
which only make sense…
under the Sandman’s veil.
Lions with purple afros,
Fairies wearing combat
boots and wings,
****** adventures
upside down,
spiritual entities
floating in the middle
of a citrine
crystal sea.
These are but a few things
we may see in dreams,
under dancing eyelids,
under cover of dark.
We step into a world
where the odd and
cryptic and usually strange
are nothing
but the norm.
A world where
flying elephants
who sit a while to chat,
are never cause to
bat an eyelash…
until you awaken.
The hustle and bustle
during hours of the sun,
come to a close
at the end of days
‘cause…
Daylight has nothing
on the mystical Night.
-by Mercurychyld
Copyrights
Sep 9, 2014
Sep 9, 2014 at 11:25 AM UTC
Many games ago,
When radios reigned
And the tube had two colors,
We played tag in the rain
And threw rocks at window panes
Of abandoned homes;
Just for the hell of it!
Many fads ago,
When Afros reigned
And the Ojays made Money
In zoot suits and bell-bottoms,
We shook our groove thang
And showed them how to do it;
Just for the hell of it!
Many rides ago,
Before Beamers and Bentleys,
When GM was King
And MJ was just a Prince
Of Pop,
We did the bus stop
And didn't stop
'Til we had enough;
Just for the hell of it!
Many flicks ago,
Before Spike did the right thing,
And Sydney was king
On the Big Screen,
And MLK screamed from
A balcony in Tennessee,
And his blood stained a nation divided...
Still...
Ductile...
Shall we be...
The object of parody...
Just for the hell of it...!?
~ P
(#JustForTheHellOfIt)
3/6/2014
Mar 6, 2014
Mar 6, 2014 at 7:46 AM UTC
Thinkin' about the days
Of wayback
When I was just seed in my daddy's sack
Wish I could have avoided the capture
But then came the rapture
Opened up a new chapter and after
The math was settlin' in paradise wasn't friendly then
Since we took fruit in garden of Eden Who do you believe in?
Spirits witches God devils or djinns
Since I was born on earth
I knew I was cursed worse to worse
Why was I born only for my destiny
To end in a hearse I tried to nurse
My feelings but that wombs to deep
For the natural healing
Pain reaching sky's ceiling
It makes me wanna holla
Why we all chasin the dolla
Bustling and hustling
Everyday we strive for more
But still in end up struggling
Juggling over obstacles
And to make it it's gonna
Take a miracle
You see not many notice the change
Universe heals it's own pang
And shakes us off like fleas please believe
If you open your mind out of darkness
Let a shine
And watch blessing begin to proceed
So much pain madness surrounding my brain
Conscious higher than a plane insane
That most want the fame before game
Crime shame everything remains the same
Raw is an anagram for war
Understand words have power
And ya bodies will use it to store
Negative to positive meaning
We ghost in a shell I learned it well
Freedom is an optical illusion
Enjoy the fusion as my mind cruisin'
Pass the cosmos galaxities fantasies
And realities
I could manifest dynasties so lovely
But I'll just be
Lyin' thoughts preoccupied principles laid
My anger soon to explode like a grenade
Storming brigades thousands of brothers ready to raid
No longer afraid afros curls to ****** braids
Black nation wake up before we end up
Like the tasmanians not a homosapien
They can't break me in
I'm a brother that's a lost King
Long awaiting that's where my soul ties in
Dec 5, 2017
Dec 5, 2017 at 9:19 PM UTC
The things I love include
Sunsets on a Friday evening and stargazing on a Friday night
Barber shop conversations
Talking to people about politics and sports
so in essence Barber shop conversations
I love going tubing and playing other water sports
Even though I can't swim, but so far I haven't drowned so far so I'll keep winging it
I love when people jump in after me when I'm drowning
Not only literally but figuratively
When I am submerged in fear as if it were water
When my heart beats against my chest as if it were trying to break free
When my neurons fire like a gatling gun, you my heroes, you save me from me
I love cocoa puffs, a lot
I also love when black women wear there hair in afros or puffs because it's something beautiful about all the shades of black and brown
I love Sunday morning church and Sunday afternoon lunch with family
I love ice cream
maybe because it is the closest thing to love I've ever found
Cold and sweet
it reminds me to enjoy the simple things in life because they won't always be around
I love girls with pretty smiles, and tasteful laughs
Brown eyes with a big heart
I love looking up at a night sky filled with stars and a heart wide open
and feeling, and knowing that God exists
I love talking to people that suffer with depression
I know that may be an odd confession but it's something real in the words they say
They see the world as it is not as it should be
Instead of hiding their flaws, their burdens , they show them so clearly
They remind me to be honest about me
Some things I love
Orange juice
Plantains, not bananas, plantains
I love SEEING black people in Unity
Whether it's to start a government or tear one down
With their hands over there hearts or knees on the ground
I don't care because for too long we as a people have been divided
So to stand for something, or to stand against something,
To run for president, and not from the KKK
To put our knees on the ground so the police doesn't put a knee in our backs
To put knowledge in our heads to prevent bullets in our bodies
I love seeing a room full of people, dressed to a tee and in one accord
I love seeing it as much as I love hearing Nat King Cole's "Chesnuts roasting on an open fire while drinking a cup of hot chocolate
on Christmas eve , next to the fireplace, surrounded with family
These are some things I love
Sep 28, 2017
Sep 28, 2017 at 1:55 AM UTC
Laying on my bed ain't real rest.
I think about the night darkness can you hold my hand?
Feeling like I'm august I'm the only one to fall
Picking out myself again like black panthers do there Afros
Twisted, tangled and pulling all these thoughts again oh no
Can't keep running Forrest you just got to let it go.
Jun 9, 2016
Jun 9, 2016 at 6:47 AM UTC
little black girl
whenever I see a little black girl, I can't help but stare
and wonder
when is the day she'll begin to hate her hair, her personal garden, her roots?
when will her mother hold her soft cheeks in her tired hands as she weeps, for the kids at school told her to go back to Africa?
when is the day she'll purchase the creamy crack, destroying her roots but believing she shouldn't go back?
when is the day her mind will succumb to the beautiful golden locks of rapunzel or the heat kissed hair of our own idols?
when is the day she'll stare in the mirror and think: i hate my blackness?
i ask not if there will be those days, but when
too many of us black women can relate
we've been taught not to love, only to hate
our garden, our history, our personal roots
afros are bad, being a ****** is not cute
if given the opportunity, will we stand together and rise?
will we tell little black girls their hair is not their demise?
My worth is not measured on what grows from my head
Your worth isn't lost if a white boy leaves you on read
our worth is embedded in our ancestors' sacrifice
love your hair and embrace this life
Aug 16, 2018
Aug 16, 2018 at 1:33 PM UTC