Can you hear ME?

You hear me?

 

Stay to my left cuz I am right with you,

I see the light in you,

Bared witness to the might but as well as the spite in you,

Felt blood and tears that were lead by the fight in you. 

And you Knowing my many wrongs is what makes me right with you. 

 

To put short and sweat, I'm likin you.

I mean love, which powers my heart to take flight with you back to the wood. 

 

Now the umph is good but it's your mind that keeps me wondering

Don't fault me for pondering if there's anyone better, 

Beyond her, physical pleasures, I crave to be honoring

Penetrating deeply, fulfilling her body, stays, reaching

Coping, healing these wounds she's been harboring.

Her kryptonite is the strain from the blade that keeps on sharpening. 

But my superwoman... please. Allow, me to guide you to the sun to defrost the beat in your chest that been hardening. 

Born from the lack of love by parental absence. 

I know I'm talking in the past tense. 

But in order to move past this 

We much make sure the wall of BS collapses 

I know this subject make you tense but please relax with my will of affirmative action. 

Ill be your shield And your fuel to gain. I'm here for you. 

Help you retain your domain that you fought so hard to attain

From the climb of your mountain of pain. 

You enclosed your self from ever feeling again. 

But like I said, again, im here. 

No matter, you can fight to pretend to not hear me, 

But then I'll pull, grasp, squeeze.. 

yes l, 

feel for you.

I'm putting up no more fight, saying no more ifs 

No more whens,

Only wills for, you

I'll be your king but also the sun

I'll keep you going! Like a perfect strike down the lane. 

I'll light the path that keeps you rolling. 

 

Can you still hear me?

 

I won't leave to to fend for yourself by yourself. 

I know that pain all so well, when no ones else able to help you see your wealth. 

All alone. 

How is it to feel to call hell home?

Child being abused, mother being beaten to atone

For sins not from them. They only know innocent

Chilled by the cold barrel of the chrome 

Pressed up against their backbone that sentenced him. 

The man of the household chased by imprison'in. 

Not only behind bars but what's forced the hand of restrain from him ever visit'in. 

His child, now grownup adolescent bastard.

Not knowing the meaning and feeling of being blessed despite grandmother being a pastor. 

 

I know you don’t get it.... Please know I'm not with it.

Caught by this vicious cycle between father and son being acquitted. 

Saying the nature of our women is built off of anger and rage. 

But what can we do when the father of our children are tricked into being locked up rotting away behind a cage. 

 

You know what they say.... what goes around comes around. 

But what if what seems to always come around is another go around of a system involved in labeling the lives of our young black men as just another throw around. 

The same messed up system that forces us, but then asks us, why are we so violent.

As if we suppose to act As though 400 yearof torture, abuse, and separation from our loved ones didn't constantly torment our environment.  

 

Can you  imagine the time we spent

Trying to put back the lives we miss. 

Hard to love as a hurt and broken people with no guidance. 

 

There a problem when the dark skins girls can't understand when I tell them “ without the horse hair weave, perm, and long polished nails is when you’re really beautiful. 

But what I always get is a look as if the words that I’m saying are crazy and unusual. 

 

Can I blame her?

Moms spending $300 on that weave and forced after to go grocery shopping and the dollar tree, for groceries.

Is this what we are really teach our youth to know?

 

Did you know black means divinity? 

To me when you put that into human form that power times infinity. 

But you expect me to believe that the black that is my identity is what I should be riddening? 

 

When are we going to teach every hue of our color is right 

and quit fantasizing over the light-

skinded..

When did..

you forget the blacker the berry the sweeter the juice? I'm guessing way before Kendrick.

This poem is about: 
Me
My family
My community
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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