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itoro Mar 2018
Unapologetically Black

I am black, what does that mean
It's supposed to mean that
That everywhere I go I am seen
It means that the sun and I have the best of relationships
That of melanin and honey I drip
It means that every step I take is magical
So beautiful, its biblical
My body, a pulchritudinous sculpture
In my roots, circulating the richest of cultures
I make my own light
And it's so so bright, such a beautiful sight
My cloud-like tresses with the most diverse of personalities
From wavy, to curly, to, coily, to *****
Everyone who is not me can only envy
But instead,it means that
It means that everywhere I go I am seen
It means that people don't have to think too much
Immediately I am judged
Because of the colour of my skin
I am treated like I come from the bin
You see me wearing a hoodie
You immediately think to **** me is your duty
Because I’m African
You treat me like I ain’t human
But I’m so much more than that
Now, I’m going to try to talk to you and make an impact
Don’t you realize, that the fabric of our society is being torn up by racism
We’re destroying and attacking ourselves like it's cannibalism
Don’t you realize that you're not worried about me
But instead my place in the human race
Don’t you realize that you are fed half truths
In the history books
I'm more than your stereotypes of being loud and obnoxious
You all think the same way it’s like you don’t even have an option
You focus on my colour
And don’t realise that the cops killing us are getting dollars
Amadou Diallo was shot 41 times when trying to enter his apartment
Think about it, he never got to do all the things of which he dreamt
This Guinean immigrant came to the country supposedly with streets paved with gold, only to fall to the ground, ****** and grey
It's not a big deal you say
Well Sean Bell was shot on his way home to his soon to be wife on the day of his marriage

50 BULLETS

No reason stated
Is this really what we’re going to encourage
Aiyana Stanley was only seven when she was shot in her sleep while her house was being bombed
Unacceptable it is beyond
Today I walk on your lands fearing our lives, my head the ground
I wonder if my heart ever feel sound
I'm sick and tired of being sick and tired
I choose not to stand around and watch the hate
I know that I was not made for this fate.
I’m tired of the continuous *******,
Well **** sorry I didn't realise i wasn’t allowed to be black in public.
My skin is not a burden, it’s a blessing with a touch love,
Smiling wide, head high, graceful like a dove.
In the future we stand, sit back and relax
So I puff up my ‘fro and turn my ****** music on,
Because whatever you say or do I will not crack
I will always stay unapologetically black.
this is a collab poem i made with @lorenzyyy_
i do not claim all rights. i give half to miss. lorenzy.
fray narte Jul 2019
Tell a little girl that her coily hair is beautiful when all of her playmates think otherwise. Marvel at a little boy’s drawings when everyone else he shows them to is too busy to spare a glance. Compliment someone’s floral dress in the subway; compliment someone’s smile, someone’s art, someone’s cooking, someone’s gumamela flowers soup they made especially for you. Thank someone for the songs they introduced, for the songs that now have become your shower jams and lullabies. Tell someone that you think they’re amazing and smart, especially if they don’t think so of themselves.

In a world where everyone looks past a street singer and ignores the old man painting sunsets in a park, be that someone who isn’t afraid to tell people about the beautiful things in them. Be that someone who isn’t afraid to be soft to others. Be that someone who isn’t afraid to be kind.
O Spring season of love for every plant and beast, from early March till later May the charming guest would feast.

In mother nature you’ll see the signs of all Divine designs. You will see the beauty on every face including yours and mine.

Daffodils will sway in open fields and lands that have declined. Flowers shall blossom and roses will bloom on every stem and spine.

Stallions will tease and gallop away in single pairs and lines. Even the birds their mates would mock before they do combine.

You’ll spot the fish of every hue in every pond or lake, but monkeys would scream and run away from every coily snake.

The crocks would stretch on river banks in search of warmth and shine, even  the bears will lazily rest under the shady pine.

lovebirds will flirt and build a nest on every woken tree, music would play and bells would ring in all the lands and sea.

When young are born or even hatch they’ll match the colours of spring, parents would feed and nurse away as the young will proudly sing.
....Continuation from Part One

Do you know what it feels like to be me,
So many things the world is blind to only i can see
Cursed with injustice, misconceptions, conspiracies
Even now without the chains i still hope to be free
Even now that my voice can be heard it seems the audience could care less despite their oh so very subtle gestures signalling each other to ignore my high notes(pause#sigh#) EXSISTENCE!! You still anticipate and wait for me to react to
Subliminal provocation intended to give me discomfort.
The audacity!

(CLEAR my throat as if delivering an important message at a rally. Gabriella get inspiration from ****** or mlk to unleash the power of the words below)

I blame the system! i blame miseducation!
I blame fabricated history!
Let the *****, coily hair i possess release a mighty frequency,
Connect with the gods and master the ability of this forgotten ancestral contingency
Unfold the truth hidden in between the lines
Acknowledge the struggles and weaknesses of our predecessors; sold their souls and heritage for a mysterious briefcase fit for a coffin for bribery. Hidden and buried beneath the half hearted stamped agreements sticking out from the shimmering dimes.
and so begins the misery,
Banished from using our hands, conditioned to a life of being fed
Restrained from using our heads, conformity weaved us together like thread

Previously, dispersed,  Discarded and fowarded in shipments
so they could use us as a contaminated abomination the world should dread.
Obstructing all efforts to spread to our sentiments.
The darker the flesh then the deeper the roots rip tupac
What good are the roots when they wiped out all evidence leaving no proof

Done by Gabriella kundiona
(Afrikka)
IM Pilot Jane A. Rug
who ascribes to writing poetry
as opportunistic, holistic, and cathartic
warming me body electric
courtesy an outsize
warm brimful coffee mug
I savor and slowly chug.

Toupee piece blew off me bald noggin
with zag and zig
went off for hair raising shindig
donning noggin of villager in Nigg
(historic county of Ross-shire,
historic region of Ross
and Cromarty, northeast
coast of Scotland).

Somehow postiche crossed the big pond
once belonged to magician,
who could create static electricity waving wand
across artificial tresses colored blond,
which wizard in disguise did abscond
with priceless peruke
(archaic word for periwig)
cuz said luxurious locks
once belonged to Dolly Parton.

Though I embellished
and expounded from original
poem still probably not very clear,
nevertheless toil onward if ye dare.

Upon occasion the missus
doth plop squat foursquare
on her plump derriere
brandishes scissors to keep hair
closely cropped to her scalp.

Once upon a time,
not very long ago somewhere
over the rainbow
within the Milky Way Galaxy,
she managed plying
chutzpah, guts and moxie to scare
connive, finagle, inveigle,
et cetera, an unused wig another
tenant at Highland
Manor Apartments here
(Compact, low slung,
and well maintained
dwellings by big booted (size 14)
previous onsite natural marvel
property manager Kevin Bair
him with shiny pate,
the former onsite jack (jilted)
of all trades handyman balladeer
crooning of Jen Tra Fide
units made like new
for those in despair
battling a crisis, and experiencing
little salvation on broken wing and prayer
low cost affordable renting facilities
though not by a near
and/or far cry ritzy as
luxury places named Bel Air,
but energy efficient air
tight, quieter than a cemetary).

Anyway, zee spouse I dare
say casts a shadow clear
the size of Rhode Island,
and chanced to acquire
ratty noggin head gear,
she did need toupee joost a dime,
and quickly realized shear
hideousness, sans "FAKE" hirsute
wig required ample
tender loving care,
thus she betook

what closely resembled
skinned hide of a distant forebear,
(or perhaps def leppard)
to Liberty thrift store,
but encountered manic tear
roar (cue Katy Perry), when enroute,
to said rectilinear
structure, out car window flew wig
landing inaccessible risking life or limb
mighty size wife easily deflected career
ring vehicles (imagine

mini measle lee Andre the Giant)
despite drivers abruptly halting to stare
as pint size super woman
gingerly didst ensnare
tire worn and tread full sorry excuse
for those claiming going bald unfair
even if renaming opposite
of being hirsute male/female
pattern receding hairline
all the way back to nape of neck.

Interesting how odd
distribution of atavistic fur
witnesses enough coily kinks
donning nether regions of body
flowing to ground within a year.
Went off for hair raising shindig
donning noggin of villager in Nigg
(historic county of Ross-shire,
historic region of Ross
and Cromarty, northeast
coast of Scotland).

Somehow postiche crossed the big pond
once belonged to magician,
who could create static electricity waving wand
across artificial tresses colored blond,
which wizard in disguise did abscond
with priceless peruke
(archaic word for periwig)
cuz said luxurious locks
once belonged to Dolly Parton.

Though I embellished
and expounded from original
poem still probably not very clear,
nevertheless toil onward if ye dare.

Upon occasion the missus
doth plop squat foursquare
on her plump derriere
brandishes scissors to keep hair
closely cropped to her scalp.

Once upon a time,
not very long ago somewhere
over the rainbow
within the Milky Way Galaxy,
she managed plying
chutzpah, guts and moxie to scare
connive, finagle, inveigle,
et cetera, an unused wig another
tenant at Highland
Manor Apartments here

(Compact, low slung,
and well maintained
dwellings by big booted (size 14)
previous onsite natural marvel
property manager Kevin Bair
him with shiny pate,
the former onsite jack (jilted)
of all trades handyman balladeer
crooning of Jen Tra Fide

units made like new
for those in despair
low cost affordable renting facilities
though not by a near
and/or far cry ritzy as
luxury places named Bel Air,
but energy efficient air
tight, quieter than a cemetary).

Anyway, zee spouse I dare
say casts a shadow clear
the size of Rhode Island,
and chanced to acquire
ratty noggin head gear,
she did need toupee joost a dime,
and quickly realized shear
hideousness, sans "FAKE" hirsute

wig required ample
tender loving care,
thus she betook
what closely resembled
skinned hide of a distant forebear,
(or perhaps def leppard)
to Liberty thrift store,
but encountered manic tear

roar, when enroute,
to said rectilinear
structure, out car window flew wig
landing inaccessible risking life or limb
mighty size wife easily deflected career
ring vehicles (imagine
mini measle lee Andre the Giant)
despite drivers abruptly halting to stare

as pint size super woman
gingerly didst ensnare
tire worn and tread full sorry excuse
for those claiming going bald unfair
even if renaming opposite
of being hirsute male/female
pattern receding hairline
all the way back to nape of neck.

Interesting how odd
distribution of atavistic fur
witnesses enough coily kinks
donning nether regions of body
flowing to ground within a year.
(Any resemblance between the following humorous account and real life circumstance tis purely coincidental).

Went off for hair raising shindig
donning noggin of villager in Nigg
(historic county of Ross-shire,
historic region of Ross
and Cromarty, northeast
coast of Scotland).

Somehow postiche crossed the big pond
once belonged to magician,
who could create static electricity waving wand
across artificial tresses colored blond,
which wizard in disguise did abscond
with priceless peruke
(archaic word for periwig)
cuz said luxurious locks
once belonged to Dolly Parton.

Though I embellished
and expounded from original
poem still probably not very clear,
nevertheless toil onward if ye dare.

Upon occasion the missus
doth plop squat foursquare
on her plump derriere
brandishes scissors to keep hair
closely cropped to her scalp.

Once upon a time,
not very long ago somewhere
over the rainbow
within the Milky Way Galaxy,
she managed plying
chutzpah, guts and moxie to scare
connive, finagle, inveigle,
et cetera, an unused wig another
tenant at Highland
Manor Apartments here

(Compact, low slung,
and well maintained
dwellings by big booted (size 14)
previous onsite natural marvel
then property manager Kevin Bair
him with shiny pate,
the former onsite jack (jilted)
of all trades handyman balladeer
crooning of Jen Tra Fide

units made like new
for those in despair
low cost affordable renting facilities
though not by a near
and/or far cry ritzy as
luxury places named Bel Air,
but energy efficient air
tight, quieter than a cemetary).

Anyway, zee spouse I dare
say casts a shadow clear
the size of Rhode Island,
and chanced to acquire
ratty noggin head gear,
she did need toupee joost a dime,
and quickly realized shear
hideousness, sans "FAKE" hirsute

wig required ample
tender loving care,
thus she betook
what closely resembled
skinned hide of a distant forebear,
(or perhaps def leppard)
to Liberty thrift store,
but encountered manic tear

roar, when enroute,
to said rectilinear
structure, out car window flew wig
landing inaccessible risking life or limb
mighty size wife easily deflected career
ring vehicles (imagine
mini measle lee Andre the Giant)
despite drivers abruptly halting to stare

as pint size super woman
gingerly didst ensnare
tire worn and tread full sorry excuse
for those claiming going bald unfair
even if renaming opposite
of being hirsute male/female
pattern receding hairline
all the way back to nape of neck.

Interesting how odd
distribution of atavistic fur
witnesses enough coily kinks
donning nether regions of body
flowing to ground within a year.
Keanna May 2020
I am a little girl.
4’11
Small build
Dark brown eyes and soft coily hair
I am lonely
You can tell I keep all my problems and feelings inside of me.

Never was the type to share my problems with people
Very private person,
Lots of trust issues
I like to isolate myself from people a lot

I am lost
Hopeless,
thoughtless
I keep up a brick wall
You cannot break it down

I am quiet
I don't speak a lot,
But if I were to it would change the world
But I  choose not to share my ideas and opinions
Shy, quiet, isolated

Even though I won't share my ideas and opinions out loud
I have no problem writing them on paper
Because truly when I write, my mind feels free
My hand feels like a prisoner who just got out of prison
And my paper feels like outside
Which the prisoner gets to know what outside feels like

You would be the person to talk to the prisoner
Get to know the prisoner
Understand why the prisoner does the things they do
Afterwards help the prisoner understand the way of life
Most importantly help the prisoner be who they’re

I am intelligent
Only when I want to be
A lot of people wouldn't understand that, I hope you do
I have a really bad habit of making people think I'm dumb because I don't talk a lot
It's a good and a bad thing

I can have all the right ideas
And still not say a word
Because i'll feel like i'll say something wrong
Or everyone will laugh at me
That's how I always felt growing up

Even though this is not how I feel anymore

I just want you to know that my mouth may be really quiet…..
But my brain isn't.
                                                          ­                                                                 ­                                                       By: Keanna

— The End —