"mulatto" poems
i'm biracial
no i'm not an oreo
no i ain't your zebra
i ain't the best of both your worlds
i ain't mulatto either
i am white
and
i am black
living my life with a sense of inequality
my race always seems to follow me
no matter where i'm at
white people have jokes
black people have questions
my hair appeals to some of you
while the rest of you have suggestions
who said i needed you to tell me who to be?
who said i needed to explain who i really am underneath?
striving to be normal and thriving to be equal
i just so happen to be a white girl
that knows what it's like to be black
and that bothers a lot of people
my race may not define me but it is apart of who i am
so yes i get offended when you refuse to understand
that i am what i am
black and white
white and black
light brown complexion
***** curls front to back
a strong black woman resides inside and it's she you see
a white woman is there but will never be
but i never deny my lines culturally
because they are me
Sep 2, 2015
Sep 2, 2015 at 12:56 AM UTC
Juicy, sweet, hot chocolate skin...black girls are black goddess
**** black girls For guys and men. The most beautiful, attractive, seductive, **** and exciting in African and African-American women is their sweet, juicy, chocolate skin color. Honey caramel mulattoes. Sweet brown chocolate color. And inviting, savoryly pure black-sugar skin color. This is the most delicious, beautiful, sweet candy in the world. You feel like a sweet tooth in a pastry shop when there are a lot of them around you. If you marry one of them and get her children from her, and live with only one of them all your life, and you will be faithful only to her alone. Your life will be the sweetest. Skin of black color and color of dark chocolate are the sweetest, seductive shades of sincere, hot passion. The skin of dark-skinned girls seems to be radiating the heat of *** burning sweet, sensual passion, this color of temptation, attraction. There are drums of ethnic, traditional music, it's the sound of *** . The black skin of a girl with which sweat and moisture is flowing, as if she still radiates ardent, hot, passionate, and a little stuffy *** in the sauna and her sweet moans are heard. This skin color is like a powerful aphrodisiac replacing ******
The skin of black and dark chocolate is the sweetest, seductive shades of sincere, hot passion.
The women of three races are beautiful: the sultry, torrid, hot chocolate of hot passion of the deep passion of black fire of love and *** a paradise oasis of tenderness of the east, and snow-white, sensual pearls.
For guys and men. The most beautiful, attractive, seductive, **** and exciting in African and African-American girls and women is their sweet, juicy, chocolate skin color. Honey caramel mulatto. Sweet brown chocolate color. And alluring, relish pure black sugar color of skin. This is the most delicious, beautiful, cute candy in the world. You feel like a sweet tooth in a candy store when there are a lot of them around you. If you marry one of them and get children from her, and you will live only with one of them all your life, and you will be faithful only to her. Your life will be the sweetest.
Your skin is the color of one hot, unforgettable night, your libido is the word lava in your hot body, burning passion, only your photos can excite me, only your beauty turns off my brains, you have a **** ****** tune in my head, you are like a hot bath after a hard of the day, like an ****** massage, like a soft pillow with sleeping softness.
Dark skin
The black skin of a girl with which sweat and moisture is flowing, as if she still radiates ardent, hot, passionate, and a little stuffy *** in the sauna and her sweet moans are heard. This skin color is like a powerful aphrodisiac replacing ******
The skin is black and the color of dark chocolate are the sweetest, seductive shades of sincere, hot passion.
Dark-skinned beauties are a deep passion of black fire - this is a hot safari, a wild savannah, an exotic havana.
My new love poem, i hope you will like it.
For my dear light brown girls
Captivating honey caramel is like a shining dawn, life with you is like a sweet ****** dream. Juicy sweet fabulous fantasy beautiful. From your sexuality, the glasses of the captured ****** force in your eyes are sweating, this is the amazing magic of charm concealed in them. You are my depraved temptation ***** temptation. The sweet temptation of a tenderly roaring passion is a breathtaking juicy caramel berry, sometimes pouring with a picturesque modulation, tender sensual shades of red sunset, incinerated with the burning heat of passion. From your hottest, sultry beauty, the brain seems to turn off and faint from your sweetest kisses.
Author: Musin Almat Zhumabekovich
Feb 18, 2019
Feb 18, 2019 at 12:56 AM UTC
What does it mean to be me,
The soul of a brother,
In the light skin of another..
Mulatto.
That biracial boy with white walls
And white bars,
A prison of stolen identity.
White & Black/ Black & White
Day & Night/ Night & Day
I'm the gray and the dusk inbetween
Feb 25, 2018
Feb 25, 2018 at 10:31 PM UTC
Dear Colin
What an inspiration
A role model
See I know how you feel
I'm like you
Mixed race, perspectives of two
From a young age
And to this day I'm ashamed
I hated my blackness
I saw what the world offered them
So I didn't want part of it
And I saw my people
Crying out with no one to listen
So I used my voice
To scream their message loud
They'll call you a traitor
They say it's disrespect
But to be more mad of an anthem
than lives that are lost.
Lives these soldiers fight for
Lives these soldiers die for
You are my hero Kaep
You saved me.
The light in a dark world
Where hope evades the privilege
of a mulatto kid, with white parents
And hope burns in darkness
It shines it's light strong
10 years from now people
who so hated this movement
Will understand
This was the time
You led the rebellion
Against injustice for all.
Sep 13, 2016
Sep 13, 2016 at 11:27 AM UTC
As a child, I was blessed
Light skin, in a white world
I had white friends, white teachers
I had white pastors, white family
That was everything that I knew to be
I had some black friends, a black teacher
I had a black pastor, black family
I saw color, I saw the differences
I saw white friends hating my black friends
I saw white teachers demean black students
I saw white christians leave the black pastor
I saw family both white and black love me just the same.
Hate is taught.
But birds of a feather
Flock together
And I flew with any breeze
That would have me.
With wiser eyes
With years behind me,
I've flown with the gentle stream
A birds eye view of an unchanging world
So I've decided to test the current
To soar with broken wings
Famished dreams
Onwards to freedom
Dec 3, 2016
Dec 3, 2016 at 2:41 PM UTC
There was nothing I was ever so ashamed of
that I dumped it in a river to drown,
but one time my best friend accidentally tossed my pink fishing pole
into the bayou when a spider dangled from the line.
We were eight, everything was wishy-washy
because she called herself a mulatto like it were an insult
and my older friends kept mentioning that my mom walked herself
to a liquor store very late at night
twelve-packs bruising her German-colored shoulder.
I did not tell them my father had hidden away her car keys.
Girls teased me and I still wanted to kiss their cheeks at goodbyes,
The Little Mermaid featured at our sleepovers
saying, “kiss the girl,” so I did
but we stopped talking when I bought my training bra,
it proved what was in my skirt, my lips could not touch them again.
You cannot kiss a girl if you are a girl,
even if Disney movies say it is okay because Mickie Mouse
has no ***** to be ashamed of though a wife of the opposite ***
I learned important things until I turned ten
and Hurricane Katrina unraveled the bayou into my house
and I existed in four different classrooms in my fourth grade year
where nobody had enough time
to learn my name, much less the way it is spelled.
Now, in therapy, the certified insists
that I am a girl who kisses other girls because my mother
only put her lips on a bottle.
But maybe I wear striped dresses just because mold grew that
shape in my home on Camellia Street,
mud decorated the fallen refrigerator so it looked like
a cow some punk tipped over.
I just wish the sidewalk I use to rollerblade on hadn’t flooded.
May 16, 2013
May 16, 2013 at 6:50 PM UTC
The day the ships came my ancestors we not of the aware of the forced melting *** that would come into existence
The combination of french and spanish confused the delta slaves
Little did they know that neither language would stick on their burnt excuses of tongues
The days the ships came New Orleans became the beacon of mulatos
And although the conquistadors could **** and beat their slave wives
Their spanish advances were not reciprocated due to lack of of heat to complete the melting
The languages that conquered the delta were combined into something that no outsider would want to encounter
That’s why the Americans came and took it like they did the rest of the country
They mistake the magic for voodoo then rebranded it for themselves
Centuries later the delta is still a melting ***
But it’s one my grandmother’s tongue was forced to forget
Her languages were lost next to her mulatto slave ancestors, left to spoil
So now when people ask
“If you’re hispanic why can’t you speak spanish?”
I can barely find the words in english to explain the years of torture my tongue has endured
When spanish speaking couples walk into my work
My tongue is eager to spill words it wishes it had the ability to create
My blood begins to hate itself over the fact that a third of itself is unrecognizable
My tongue is still waiting for the new boats to arrive and reconcer it
All it knows is to be conquered
No self defense here
When all you know is to be conquered
It becomes a challenge to think for oneself
My tongue can’t decide if english, spanish or french is better
My creole mind is yelling thousands foreign curse words not knowing which one is a true sin
Maybe the sin here is letting the burner stay on too long
The day the ships came
My slave ancestors looked at their spanish lovers and said
“My love, what shall we do once the french arrive?”
With their eyes looking into the horizon the conquistadors replied
“Es no problema para mi, pero tu, tu es la propiedad de estos”
Which according to simple history books means
“Good luck”
Apr 19, 2017
Apr 19, 2017 at 10:16 PM UTC
He lives in a time of plague.
The tag team of cholera and dedication killed his father, for all Dr. Juvenal Urbino knows, his father was faithful to both work and love.
The good doctor knew from an early age that his work would be his love, and from a slightly less tender age he discovered that his love of flesh and the body ran deeper than mere science could take him.
He met Fermina Daza in the doorway between clinical curiosity and obsession over her doe’s gait, and as he walked through his heart made room for a new kind of dedication.
He thought his devotion would be equally as precise as his practice.
Fifteen or so years of marriage, between years in Paris they bled together like a Van Gogh after a rainshower, the intricacies of their companionship were jointly held in a contractual cradle, but neither of them felt obligated.
Dr. Urbino was before my time, but my story will know the life of Carlos Mucharraz, Pre-Med major, they both dedicate themselves to their love. I’ve never seen her, but I can imagine Carlos likens her gait to that of a doe. He fawns over her from 17 hours away, for nearly a year.
Like a Texas dust devil, he sends his love through the air to Minneapolis to brighten her phone screen and her day.
They’ve only ever spent time together twice.
I’d like to think of his devotion like a boulder, immovable, but twisters slither across prairies as wicked winds push them towards seas of lust, but I’d like to think his love flew above turbulent skies.
I thought Dr. Urbino as a rock.
He must have thought of his fidelity as a disease. His father died fighting cholera, and Urbino would not let his affliction of faithfulness **** him. He thought himself ill, and the mantra of his practice taught him one thing only: cure.
In a slum of San Juan de la Cienaga, pants around his ankles, holding a mulatto girl’s legs around his waist, he crumbled like stale bread as he plunged himself into infidelity.
This man of granite broke and fragmented, his sin etched a crooked cobweb of fractures into his back, I wonder if the beads of sweat stung his spine, or dulled the pain.
But maybe I should put my faith in dust devils.
Humans may be able to shatter the hardest stone, but no one commands the sky, for it straddles North and South, East and West, Fort Worth and Minneapolis.
Jul 1, 2013
Jul 1, 2013 at 7:20 PM UTC
I don't have a category
or faction
or division
or race
not fully accepted anywhere
4 years old, no race to call home
too white for one
too black for the other
8 years old, no race to call home
9, 10, 11...
where do I go?
a slave to one
too sheltered for the other
too light for one
too dark for another
12 years old, no race to call home-still
why is this okay?
a criminal to one
shame from the other
15, drowning in the midst of everything, no race to call home
different feature don't come in handy when
there's no one interested
18 years old, dead.
Jun 12, 2014
Jun 12, 2014 at 12:27 AM UTC
by Originally Nirvana
verses by Arcassin Burnham
Lets lend a hand, no words to say,
but all you've planned, doesn't ever stay,
vanilla girls, they know what's best for us,
the world , it never rest,
Hello, hello, hello, how low? [x3]
Hello, hello, hello!
With the lights out, it's less dangerous
Here we are now, entertain us
I feel stupid and contagious
Here we are now, entertain us
A mulatto
An albino
A mosquito
My libido
Yeah, hey, yay
deal all your faults, and all your dreams,
worth a penny, just wanna stay teens,
you could deal, making plans,
and taking risk, you are the man,
Hello, hello, hello, how low? [x3]
Hello, hello, hello!
With the lights out, it's less dangerous
Here we are now, entertain us
I feel stupid and contagious
Here we are now, entertain us
A mulatto
An albino
A mosquito
My libido
Yeah, hey, yay
use to remember, the signs,
I cross the lines apart, not known what was mine,
I took the gun, put it in my mouth,
and I, just thought it out,
Hello, hello, hello, how low? [x3]
Hello, hello, hello!
With the lights out, it's less dangerous
Here we are now, entertain us
I feel stupid and contagious
Here we are now, entertain us
A mulatto
An albino
A mosquito
My libido
A Denial [x9].
Oct 13, 2015
Oct 13, 2015 at 8:01 PM UTC
High above the ultra-white plateau
a vultures wheels in an amino helix
above a dead horse. Branded upon its left flank is the word
“Mulatto”.
In the forest far below
an ilex rattles for the dead.
The river, pregnant with shrapnel
sulks and stagnates, her belly full of lead.
The plains are cratered as the Moon
the purple heather soothes the raw stone wound
and whispers that the fighting will be over
very soon, and all the scars will heal.
Their fires have turned our bones to meal.
The mountain gods are sighing now
and dying now, the endless sky their tomb.
Rainclouds loom, seething with disdain
and seek to quench the hungry yellow grass.
Rain lashes through the mountain pass.
Rainwater sifts into the soil
and we do not forget.
Blood chapel-sacred, black as oil
and we do not forget.
Shrapnel is sown like seeds into the spoil
and we do not forget.
Mar 21, 2013
Mar 21, 2013 at 9:33 AM UTC
The spitting image
Was just in spitting distance
When she pricked herself in the spindle
And fell into spinet
Then ended up in the hospital on Guerrero street
The two dunderheads
Compared biceps
Engaged in a ******* contest
Their **** was red, forgot they had eaten beets
Now they're on their way to the hospital on Guerrero street
The embezzling imbecile
Who invented mystery meat
Was selling cowlicks at the concession stand
He had a heart attack when a horse voiced mulatto paid him in coins with no cash value
Now he's on a pram in the hospital on Guerrero street
The improviser had a bright idea
And epiphany
There was a light bulb above his head
But he was taken by the under tow and got water logged
Now he's held up in the hospital on Guerrero street
The beggar women ******* from a rusty spigot
Who studied the doctrine but didn't read the document or get the memo
That she was due for a mammogram, she was distressed
She could barely make ends meet
So now she brings he tin can of pennies with her to the hospital on Guerrero street
Amidst the unfortunate
Amongst the idiots
There is me, the one who got his hand stuck in peanut jar
Sitting in the waiting room damning myself in the hospital on Guerrero street
Dec 21, 2014
Dec 21, 2014 at 8:54 PM UTC
We have seen
and called for misunderstanding,
But I have seen our future children,
mulatto genearation,
Ticked off,
I am at our confusion,
Foggy like the farts of war,
The bullets continue to fly
even in silence,
From my brother's gun,
*** can you call youreself,
When you hold tight to the chains,
We must let loose,
We must see the sun and its morning fog
As the dew of renewal,
Because I have seen you witb oure
Mulatto children, and you looked at me,
I was a father.
Jul 17, 2014
Jul 17, 2014 at 11:41 PM UTC
Fully ambulatory with
onanist wrists,
neither whig,
nor tory,
nor communist,
he's loose lipped
loose hipped
quite well equipped,
he's bendy n trendy,
he's buff, n ripped.
not quite castrato
and gives good vibrato
to choirboys mulatto -
with belly button fluff.
Obi.
Nov 30, 2018
Nov 30, 2018 at 12:57 PM UTC
If I had a dad
he would be
Langston Hughes.
Jazz, daughter of
Mr. handsome blues
or Sir mulatto smooth.
heads would turn
as I stroll
the streets
looking pretty
while dancing
with the winds beats.
at sunset we would meet
laugh and retreat
cool us, in the heat.
Rhyming,
Singing,
and tapping our
Happy feets!
May 15, 2014
May 15, 2014 at 3:12 PM UTC
(alternately titled: ah me go march'n home on derange)
I'll play the devil's advocate, yet
prepare a stance with pitchfork
against misinterpreted faux attempt
to describe, how whet
d'ya column re: immigration officials coe vet
patrol, police, and poison tranquil casa blanca
where killer attack dogs fiendishly pin set
ting sharp fangs at jugular vein of respectful,
dutiful, and blissful (or at least
prior to being sniffed out) innocent
long time laborer on American soil now get
ting Das Boot to their unfamiliar Motherland
(despite living social
as law abiding righteous folks) fret
full, cuz unfairly punished, and
cruelly deported, dispirited, doomed
pained visage non verbally articulates
at un war rented deportation you bet!
with just a flick of the wrist
and alien hated, pigheaded,
and xenophobic ventriloquist
bring back the Alien and Sedition Acts
with a Trumpeting Latina, Hispanic,
and for good measure Mulatto twist,
where original writ (signed into law
by President John Adams in 1798),
historical footnote, aye cannot resist
spooking (like a ghost), those *** pill
born south of the border pooped and ******
in potties of this proud country, sans free and brave
now frightfully get flushed out
glad to feign dis guise
as one among select Geronimo cadre
we henchman lubricate
wheels of injustice myst
tuff hie hiding dark shadows
(along the edge of night)
thence paddy wagon comes
to screeching halt nabbing
an "illegal alien" name on hit list
code word "bag dad" (biggest quarry)
and score a win
for Barren Trump Tah Mahal Incorporated
impossible mission special ops sentry slithers as trained
fearless to shackle ******* ranked big hest
catch also including ***** prize,
as you correctly guessed.
Mar 13, 2018
Mar 13, 2018 at 2:33 AM UTC
I am America
Conqueror
Conquered
Indentured
Old world roots
New world trees
I am America
To overcome
To transform
To dream
To live
To die
I am America
Native
Black
Brown
White
Mulatto
I am America
Soldier
Protestor
Fire
Healer
Flower
I am America
Christian
Jew
Muslim
Agnostic
Atheist
I am America
Master
Slave
Rich
Poor
Divided
I am America
Capitalist
Socialist
Environmentalist
Activist
Survivalist
I am America
Weak
Strong
Freedom
Dysfunction
Uncertain
I am America
Diverse
Tolerant
Racist
Hate
Love
I am America
So it is written
Natural born
Inalienable rights
Created equal
I am you
Jun 5, 2016
Jun 5, 2016 at 10:48 AM UTC
"Alright bro, it's time to access your most Tubular Chakras, pound a couple' healing quartz' and nail that bluntslide off the Infinite Moment
"I'm talking full Self-Actualization bro-
Straight-up, Enlightenment
"You're going to be telling ******* about that time you were in Nirvana, But wait-
One can never falter from Nirvana once attained, Radical
"You are Metatron's Cube-
Buzz me, Mulatto"
Dec 6, 2016
Dec 6, 2016 at 2:15 AM UTC
Your perfect teeth and beautiful smile
Your freckles
Most of all
Your hugs
The feeling of melting in your arms
The smell of your curly hair
The warmth of your mulatto skin
The energy you would bring
The tighter the hold
The deeper I would sink
I Miss You :(
Is the view as gorgeous looking down as it is when I look up towards heaven?
R.I.P Beautiful
Jul 24, 2014
Jul 24, 2014 at 9:06 AM UTC
Infancy talked to me various languages, switching
Tonalities for different melodies, to be learnt.
Naturally acquiring the discernment, recognising
Faces and voices to choose applicable native tongues.
English with my father, whose name echoed as Plato,
Iranian with my mother, Italian with my siblings, French
With school teachers, Greek on summer holidays.
Growing up my hair and accents, led to the inevitable
Repetitive question, ‘Where are you from?’
Timidly answered as it was hard to comprehend, until I set
Myself to do so untiringly drafting precious family trees.
Investigations interrogating relatives to exhaustion,
Ignited my pride for every single drop of blood,
Composing me and drawing borders
On geographical maps delineating my essence.
My story was one of many, they labelled me a multi-ethnic,
For my daddy’s naissance in Accra from a mulatto beauty
Queen, daughter of a British doctor and his Ghanaian lady friend.
For her husband, his Hellenic pater, son of Chios, born in Sudan.
For my mummy’s naissance in Tehran from a noble
Banker, progeny of the Qajar dynasty originally Turkic,
And his pure blood Persian wife.
My parents met in England where they studied only
To marry and move to pre-revolutionary Iran. I was born
In Rome where they fled, when insurrections began.
Now if someone asks I forcefully respond,
“From planet Earth. A terrestrial little sphere at the heart
Of its star system, on the edge of its galaxy lost
Somewhere in space in the maze of the Universe.
My story is one of many, I labelled us humans.
Oct 18, 2017
Oct 18, 2017 at 1:54 AM UTC