Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

12.7.17 | 13.7.17
Black Woman (self,..black women before and now.)

About this self, about how this body is blessing, is all this woman, is a careful result of rituals self-love, how it resonates and resurrects with this kind of illness, is a anxious body learning to call its scared oasis defiant, for the way it learns to yield at this entrenched state of mind, there aren’t many instances this body gets to feel this kind of solidarity, in a room filled with this kind of love, so used to being expelled at words that know how well we sit crossed and armed, we must teach each other how to use our inherited the way we like to keep this body safe and honest, teach its complexities to ourselves so we can unlearn its unauthorized cycle, that we don’t always have to be this pretty to know this kind of broken, how each woman can be both, can be this beautifully broken and still call it healing, not ashamed of being this kind of woman, that strong isn’t always barley seen, I am no strange to the familiar way this melanin is strummed and dipped in a different kind of beauty, called and shackled by those who taint its shade for palatable, easy to taste but never worth its full feast, how this skin is a movement for the way we look at our black skin, has always been beautiful, the way this natural has always played against the rules, they have always something to say about the way they appropriate, I mean take, I mean brake, I mean black women, we come together and unit to sugar cane, endlessly teasing the largest star in the sky, how we bleed this kind of woman, words that speak ancestral lineage, unfinished and untold voices that will never anchor at those who attempt to cease what black womanhood before us have taught deep into the system, how we have been taught that strength comes from the way black women who have fought for black woman rise even after us, Maya Angelou says, there is no agony like bearing an untold story inside of you, how Rosa Parks called on us, to remind this black body of woman is agency, for this type of unity, said, all great achievements require time, and still do we witness black women who are living these prophecies in stated greatness, Viola Davis, Taraji p Henson, Janelle Monae all these black women who are reflections of such trinity, queens, handing down wisdom in all types of empowerment, reminding black women that we are the worlds tempest living out dreams, fables that can not be bound so easy, make enough loud to show this world we are here, we have always been, here, and guarded, of fight.

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Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

13/4/16
Don’t disrespect beauty

I read the most disrespectful statement about my sisters, I just wanna let you black men who forgot your place, don’t know that a black body spilled herself for you, least you forgot the skin you wearing, disrespecting what god took time to perfect, how dare you forgot your place, how dare you disrespect like you don’t know that ain’t nobody but this black skin will always have your back, acting like black man n black woman ain’t the same blessed, ain’t the same sweet menlanin we praise, they praise, don’t you forgot your roots boy, don’t forget who brought you on this earth, don’t you forgot the colour god blessed upon your disrespectful self, talking like you worthy of so much she ain’t gave you, capable of carrying all this that society has given women with melanin bright enough, brave enough, strong enough, beautiful enough for you to act like you own, like you have the right to, how dare you, don’t you know disrespect when it assaults your narrative, never forget it is this skin that you are here, so best you know, before you disrespect yourself

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

12/07/15, 5/01/15
M.B.A: This is a letter to the future

Dear Future,

Don’t let me down, my kin are going to be living for the change that is yet to come, lets just pray together, you’d think living in this life would have been far better than being enslaved, but in this reality its practically enslavment to silence, holding fear too close, no voice to reach real help, my brothers and sisters left for dead in America, their poems becoming a calling for anyone willing to listen, how dejecting, even in this era being black is still a problem, being treated like beats that roam around too freely, dear future, promise me that we’ll be safe, thick skin is starting to sound like the definition of melanin, I need you to promise me that just becuase its been too many years to count that you still haven’t givin up, dear future, please have thick skin too, I know its tiering to hope when there aight much hope left in humanity, but please do what you can, praying for another black boy, another black body, to be safe n not be left on the pavment is that too much to as for, their lives meaning nothing to this world, a mourning that we’ve been singing for as long as melanin has been spilling its blood, dear future, we’re tierd too, but I hope that you grow our think skin, so that even when kin is still being violated, assolted, murded, killed, draging their black bodies statining evdidence to show the world their sins, pray with us future, because we arn’t done, we still have so much to engrave, so much black history correction is left to do, dear our people, future says don’t give up, I will always give you more time, I know its hard, but I will always give you more time