Parents, the keepers of the door
to this amazing universe..
To them I am a fragile sapling,
staked for its own good.
Protected from sweet kisses,
funny and salty,
somber and delicious.
Parents, those figures of authority,
those from whom our true lives are kept.
Protect me from scars no deeper than a blush,
from rustles on a soft battlefield, caressed curves,
tousled hair and appetitive breaths of each other's air.
Parents, who guard against loves bombardment,
the persistent courtship.
Giving ground in slow but immense movement,
like that of a continental plate.
Parents, whose power will fade
with no more cause than time,
gentle as mist,
as powerful as a waterfall.
.
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A song for this:
Time and Love by Laura Nyro
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I’m going through old diaries - can you tell?
Trapped in a cage, viewed as animals
Plot twist - they were actually humans
Mocked, laughed at, seen as jesters -
Except it wasn’t entertainment -
Just pure cruelty,
To them it was a joke,
For us it was a humiliation ritual
No autonomy, no freedom, no rights
They were reserved only for the whites,
Our skin was the target of bullying,
Disrespected, as if being black meant we were the enemy
To them we were,
To them we were ‘inferior’ -
Just a means to an end for their enjoyment -
Like a comedy show, where we are the comedian,
Except we don’t have to speak to be funny,
They saw our skin as a hilarity -
Their idea of fun, was our suffering
If the conditions were to kill us,
They would see it as a bonus,
Rating our deaths as if it were a performance,
Conditions in the cages were poor,
But the treatment of us - even poorer,
To the oppressor it didn’t matter, as long as they were continuously entertained,
They were happy
Two hundred and forty-nine years of freedom, away from our oppressors
Let’s celebrate big time with fireworks, friendship and food
Let your orange, white and greens fly high and proud
Pledge to protect peace, unity and diversity
India is here, India is cheer, we are one, strong and fit.
Twp hundred and forty-nine years of freedom, away from our oppressors
August the fifteenth is our day to fly our flags and shine.
To show that we value democracy and appreciate our freedom.
Patriotism will be in full swing, our food and friendships will flow.
We will show our pride in ourselves and each other.
Anger, the emotion of the unheard,
When words won't work, it speaks through hurt
Peace was never an option - when the hate you give continues to burn
When the hands you touch, turns to ashes
Anger becomes validation, for when comfort is a luxury not afforded
Outcasted, into the shadows, our pain overlooked
Anger, an echo of ancestral hurt,
Of justice unserved -
The rights of black people, constantly burned
This the reason why peace can no longer be an option
Anger is our self-made reparations
We decide how we recover,
We decide how to heal
We decide our emotions
Dictation is the tool of the weak, abused by our oppressors
We feel what we feel due to their racism
The way we deal, was never our fault
It was the world that forced us into survival
Our healing will be their downfall
Anger is one of our greatest weapons
It is the fuel for every revolution,
This is what gives every movement energy
It travels in our blood, in each blood vessel
Anger is necessary to our survival -
Because to be a conscious black person, is to live in a constant state of anger
A world without them- BB Baloyi
How happy could we be,
Free from the suffocating grip of patriarchal might.
Living in harmony, with hearts full of light,
Full of life- sure we won't lose
In the hands of our "protectors".
Living in a world we call home,
Where we are not objects but humans,
Where justice rolls like thunder, shaking the ground,
Where we're free, confident, and unafraid.
How happy could we be, as women,
To live for our dreams, not just to survive?
To live in the present, not fantasize about tomorrow-
A future we may not see but only imagine.
To live in a world where oppressors are held accountable.
Where speaking isn't ridiculed
And our voices aren't just loud and clear but HEARD.
How happy could we be to exist,
Not as enemies of men, but friends of life?
In a world where our happiness matters,
Regardless of the ovaries we're born with.
How happy could we be?
Not in imagination, but in this nation.
How happy could we be?...
Yet, we'll keep living, hoping
For a better world for us.
Mourning the wicked is something I'll never do
The death of evil will always be long overdue
There is no shame in the joy of a dead threat
If we celebrate, we will not tolerate judgement
You laugh over black death as if it is irrelevant
So why would we care about the death of a white supremacist
All the empathy went to a white man
Did the bank run out for the innocent black man
Or is it just a privilege only whites get
And us black people get left with the debt
They'll label evil as a martyr
As long as its face is the colour of paper
Humanised is the oppressors
Yet the oppressed are labelled the aggressors
Justice favours those with privilege
And the true victims are met with disdain and discrimination
A backwards society -
Where no one cares if you are innocent
If you are a black person
Hashtags.
Used to promote to get more attraction to a desired cause
To create a movement , to even open doors
But - like most things it has its flaws
Used to manipulate for narrative control
Stories of real life trauma
Plastered on social media
To be auctioned of and sold
To the highest bidder- usually a politician
Their favourites, those that contain stories of racism
Not because they care
But for emotional manipulation
Used to make them look like a 'diverse hero'
Claiming to love everyone
Yet create policies for a mandatory stop and patrol
'Coincidentally' in only black neighbourhoods
Most hashtags aren't even harmful
If used for the greater good, it can be very useful
A way for slogans to become a movement
One example - #blacklivesmatter
To boost, to help go viral
To become a worldwide sensation
After all you can never have enough people
To tackle this centuries long issue
Yet human nature makes people resentful
When they aren't the centre of attention - when they aren't popular
Usually the oppressors, they can't stand feeling inferior
They'll twist a cause to suit their reputation
After all what's a campaign without deception
What should be an atmosphere of excitement
Becomes something more deadly - more violent
A child's first sound should be heard
Instead silence echoes
Even before life began
A black baby understands
That in order to survive the world outside
Their cries should be kept on the inside
How painfully sad
That before it's existence
It inherited generational silence
Ones whispered through the branches of their ancestry
The unspoken rules that come with the guide of how to survive -
Being black and alive
There are way scarier things then the dark
Like the clothes on your chair, something innocent
Becomes dark and twisted
Once the lights are off
Morphing into shadows
Worse than any nightmare your mind to conjure
If you don't understand this metaphor
I'm talking about the performative actions of the modern day oppressors
How messed up
That we live in a world
That claims that us black people are the 'monsters'
Yet before our children are even born
You've forced
Our sons and daughters
Into a life dictated by silence
Where do all the voices go
When told to repress their emotions
Do they fake a smile and swallow it whole
Or do they bury their heads in the ocean and scream
The black voices are silenced
Trapped in the purgatory of compliance
Usually erased by a history of violence
Or thrown into solitary confinement
No light, no windows
Just an eternity of darkness
Voices hidden by oppressive shadows
But what of those that demand to be heard
Voices beneath the earth
Silenced by death and historical erasure
Instead of words
Do they make the ground tremble with their anger
Do their spirits control the weather
Do their souls become messengers
To represent all those who go unheard
All those black speakers
To continue a legacy of black courage
Of daring to speak up against the oppressor
The world drowns us in problems
Then expects us to breathe solutions
In a society that demands whispers of lullabies rocking them to sleep
Whilst we deal with the havoc they wreak
Safe in the silence of their homes
Black women have to deal with the chaos outside alone
The white man's mess becomes the black persons job
Our pay - racism
Seems familiar, reminds you of anything
Maybe, a modern day version of slavery
No rest for the wicked they say
So why are the oppressors still sleeping
The good are punished
The evil rewarded
I guess we just live in a one-sided system
Where being a victim, makes you a villain
Our worth determined by how much blood we pour
The more we bleed, the more we are adored
Our pain is entertainment, they'll never get bored
For them it's like a cure for the common cold
Like an answer to all the world's problems
For them we are a sacrificial lamb
Something to feed off of, then be rid of the scraps
The story of our lives
Used then are blamed for our cries
Then are denied of our rights
To be humans not slaves
In a world full of snakes
How do you tell which is poisonous
Each identical
Yet some harmful
In a world full of political parties
How do we know which one is all inclusive
Different paths
But the same ending?
In a world full of smiles
How do you differentiate between lie and truth
When promises are empty
And lies become identity
In a world of corrupt politicians
How do you decide which one is genuine
Are they playing nice for their campaign?
It's hard to trust when they've no shame
In a world that favours white
How do we expect change
When history is the same
When past and present live in the same age
In a world that fights for power
How do we become equal
When the world is against black people
When life is a climb to superiority
In a world that lives in delusion
How do we escape ego
When they are blinded by privilege
When they lead without reason
I dont believe in God
Why would I?
No literally
Why? Would? I?
I dont believe
In this so called all loving being
That doesn't treat everyone equally
Because when has he ever helped black people
We never received equal treatment
At any point in history
He is all powerful but couldn't stop slavery
Or wouldn't
We are all created in his 'perfect image'
And that we all deserve equal treatment
I guess if he was real
And allowed slavery
He is ing evil
Because as history wrote
That the prayers he answered
We're that of the oppressors
And the oppressed we just had to suffer
But yeah he's all loving
I mean if I had the powers
That he did
They wouldn't be hidden
And I'd use them to stop racism
I mean he created everything
But he couldn't stop slavery
That sounds like an excuse
Or proof that he hates us
Black people need to wake up
And realise nobody is coming to save us
Not even
Your all powerful
All loving
All seeing god
Because if he was going to stop racism
He would've already saved us
He wouldn't have betrayed our ancestors
Oh, oppression, thou art a tyrant's tool
Thou art a blight upon the human soul
Thou makest us cower in fear and dread
Thou art the source of our tears shed
Thou art a force that brings us low
Thou robb'st us of our rights to grow
Thou makest us feel like we are nothing
Thou makest us feel like we are worth less than something
Oh, oppression, thou art a cruel master
Thou art a blight upon the human race
Thou makest us suffer in silence and shame
Thou art the source of our endless pain
Thou art a force that holds us back
Thou robb'st us of our rights to speak
Thou makest us feel like we are voiceless
Thou makest us feel like we are powerless
Oh, oppression, thou art a dark cloud
Thou art a blight upon the human heart
Thou makest us feel like we are worthless
Thou makest us feel like we are apart
But we will not be silenced by thee
We will stand up and be heard
We will fight for our rights and freedom
And we will break free from your chains.
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