African American or Black
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Dear Langston Hughes, What happens to a queen that’s darkened? Does her skin become a question of success or failure
“Behind The Stare” Microaggressions, subtle but present Waiting and waiting for the words to escape your mouth. “Speak your mind!”, but all you do is stare.
I know you weren't built for me, but Damn, Can you give me a bone? I was born with not one, not two, but three minority identifiers: Black, female, bisexual. Thank goodness I believe in the one,
Dear Black Man,
A number. A number foretells my future doesn't it? Will I be in jail or will death stand over my body as I bleed? Will that number have me throwing up in a toilet clutching guts while on my knees,
Lois Ann Alston is my joy perhaps the hope for my future ,She brings me much joy for my breaking aching heart.tme wil tell our story ,our faiths, our hopes and desires.with all my love .your Black Prince. Mr. Kenneth Ray Hutchins.
Time has cast me a drift in this sea of nothing-ness.
I can cry a waterfall. Hating people because of who they are. Got a new president now we're talking about building a wall. Thought we were done with genocide but they're trying to start a war.
My first REAL poem . . . No, you cannot touch my hair, No, you cannot stare, I am not an animal in a zoo, But I’m often mistaken as one by you
Once upon a time, in a tower- tall, far and kept away lived Rapunzel, a secret princess in her day Her father, the King made a mistake he could not take back
They put us in oppression. They drown us in depression. It's nothing but discrimination. They try to kill our brown brothers in immigration. They try to burn us down because they have the heart of Satan.
Malcolm X and Martin Luther King Man oh man, they could have been a power team. Really they just wanted the same thing, They wanted to live the American dream.
I have a weapon of mass destruction A weapon that has many left shaken down to the last hair on their body I am the danger and I am the fear to those who are fearing, I oughta feel cocky
Your spirit held the beauty of Aphrodite but never commanded a crowd to form around you like this Instead it was the crimson liquid, glistening in the light, That made everyone stare
Spread joy. Can I employ the sisters and brothers begging this government? Make it a supplement, an addition or readmission to a better life for the gifted, the talented and the brilliant. Oh she's Brazilian.
I'm one hundred percent sure all odds are agaisnt me It's represented by what I find when I walk down the street Poor families of 17, making 20k a year hardly enough money to eat They say we have a chance in this country
Rolling hills and majestic skies Beautiful faces and even prettier eyes Plentiful jobs and opportunity for all This is the country we've come to love most of all, But people are mad They fight and shout
Oh, say, can you see, blinded by the tear gas By the dawn's early light, shining through our body bags as we lay on the street, hitting our 3 hour mark What so proudly we hailed
What were you doing the night of August 28, 1955? How were you feeling on May 15, 1970? Where were you on March 3, 1991? What about on April 29, 1992? October 9, 2005?
This is not a biased poem. I just refuse to become another victim because my aspirations speak louder than my destiny or what the government expects of me.
Can I be quiet? Can I watch and just observe? Can I just be and not spend every second of my day proving that I am worthy of being heard?
Master, Savior, Jesus By Alexandra R. Felder I was dragged here in chains to be your companion, not your plaything Sold on the block as a child Bought by your father as a gift
What happened to our roots?We let them wither like weeds as soon as segregation was outlawed.What happened to our roots?We dug them up and felt like we didn't need them anymore once we started joining hands with the white man, thinking the storm w
I look in the mirror and I see the god Shango staring back at me. Where I expect to see my reflection, I do. And yet, it is more than it ever was. My broad chest and shoulders,
"Turning to a new page in my almost filled thought book for a topic that needs the room. This is only page 2016. Our world is ending.
Do you see me? I do not need the sun. I like the night. Do you see them? They do not need the sun. They like the stars. One day when there is only night, I shall be the sun. I am the chosen one.
The shackles of the past still ring in the minds of a brother. Poetry allows the emotions of a brother to be proclaimed. The MASTERS of the world the brother lives in, know how to silence the brother.
Its funny how you know me But don't know me, you know? Was in my class then, back then But things just got old You underestimated my knowledge Grew success now you don't dodge me
I dare you To tell the truth. Don’t discredit the youth You spooked They spoiled your spoiler.Can’t tell her no, no more you spoiled her. Momentum in moments like this Navigate my future.
Me, Black Afro American Product of rape Product of hate Product of product; I reproduce in self hate; Me. I sit in the front of the bus.
When I smile you feel anger Does my happiness harm you Does it smack your hate dead in the face Does my joy make you upset Did it hurt your poor little feelings Because if it did… I guess
Mansa Musa, Shaka Zulu, Nefertiti, Akhenaten-- Something is similar about all of these names No doubt, there are complexities that make these names uncommon However, the common fact is that they played no games.
You get to live with your happily ever after. I only get the remnants of whatever happens after. Aint nothing besides me, besides a little black girl.
Funny thing about a certain hot button issue, is people only listen when it comes time to miss you. When they can no longer dismiss you; the latter is a hero. Exploiting their favoritism to avoid the fear of
You wouldn’t see me solely as a slang bearer that doesn’t know the difference between euphemism and an idiom Don’t think too hard about it
Dear Mother Dearest, We enter a systematic way to automatically determine how many young black men are pop to a prison pipeline
I am “ethnic” Too dark for one group Too light for the other Not proper enough to be heard But too proper to speak in terms of "the brother" Naturally born with characteristics others pay thousands for
Standing in front of the mirror, what do you see? Is it the shade of your skin you can't stomach? Can't swallow the fact that you were born in a shade of black? Can't stand how the palm doesn't look like the black hand side?
I am beautiful
I am a Black Girl. I am another individual in society. I am a Lost Black Girl. Trying to find my place in this world but I always end up heading in the Wrong direction. But I know one thing
I was sitting with my friends the other day and we got on
I fear the color of my skin. Peple see me as a dog. im a slave in others eyes but in mines I'm just like everyone else i can be whatever I can be since my people are free
My nigga had eyes deep enough
A strand of my hair is my great grandmother.
As I contemplate all I know There's one last thought that wants to grow Who am I friend or foe Knowing myself has never felt so low....
Step into their shoes Take a step, and a walk For you shall learn how they Could never talk Those across the streets Thought differently To their defeat,
The wrongness of my mispronunciation of my native languages only makes me more Afrikan More Afrikan than I am to put in the effort I am Afrikan through blood and not by my birth
Enslaved by thought so I carry the tale with worn feet, My kind was contained to cultivate something sweet. Sugar cane working, Rays from the sun start to sting- My ancestors with worn feet wished for fresh wings.
Life is a river running endlessly into the Depression Ocean.i do my best to get out, but the current always pulls me back in.