Fragile,
a baby tantrum brings you to tears,
yet, infinite;
there is no beginning or end of you.
Demanding,
you paint the streets victim red.
With deadly weapons,
you commit crimes of passion.
Loving,
to a fault,
you never take "no" for an answer.
The times you've been betrayed
and rejected
are written
in, often, libelous chronicles
called history.
Mystique,
you morph into Black men,
beautiful,
arms long enough to hold our troubles
for $15.00 ecstasy,
ten, if times are hard.
Vengeful,
you stretch those arms,
take the hearts
of young colored women,
counterattack these white men
who race for the key to your freedom
in the shadows of their colored wives.
Heartless,
treading HOMEland,
my feet bleed.
I see I've come
to the wrong place.
About the Creator
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Leah's Grace
To Grace and Shiloh, That watch that your mother says she “bought” for your father isn’t a watch she bought at all. Me and Bootsie boosted it from the Chicago Bulls locker rooms, several weeks before your mother let us all know she was pregnant with ya’ll. Even now, we don’t know what belonged to whom. Bootsie just went in, unzipped those duffel bags and took whatever looked valuable. Chains, blazers, designer shirts, sneakers, backpacks, rings. We’d already made international headlines. Just about nobody had gone untouched. Our first hit was Boston TD Garden, then we made our way downward to the Nets, Philly Cavaliers, then down to the Charlotte Hornets, Atlanta Hawks then Orlando Magic. And we just kept moving up and down in a zig zag. We came real close to losing it all when we hit the LA Clippers. It was me, Bootsie and Solo that go-round. Each time we stuck a team, only one of us went in to boost. The other two would watch the surroundings of the locker rooms. You might be thinking we pretended we were the housekeeping crew. Nope. We always staked a stadium out for, at least, one month before gameday. Planting our cameras in places we could snatch them up from when we got through. Remember that man I told you about who took me to senior prom? Taz? He went to school for computer engineering. That was the genius behind all our equipment. I lied about the purpose and told him I didn’t feel safe at my apartment in those suburbs because it was so spread out. So he hooked me up with his custom security system that he and his friends were getting trademarked. He assured me that I’d be safe if I just married him. We still talk, and I eventually told him what really went down. He says that’s the past; he still wants to marry me. But marriage and kids aren’t and ain’t never been for me. Though I’m not lying when I say that the two of you and your cousin are three of the greatest joys of my life. Thank you for sending me the picture; I’m amazed at how beautiful ya’ll have grown to be. How’s school going? What ya’ll been up to?
By Davontae Jones5 years ago in Families
Smart phones, Humans and Aliens.
WARNING. I will be tapping into one of your favorite creative tensions: The absurdity of humans worshipping their glowing rectangles as if they were tiny oracles. There’s something deliciously poetic about that contradiction, and it lends itself beautifully to an instructive proviso.
By Novel Allen5 days ago in Poets
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