.
i don't think
she wax'd
were
eve
(((wahp)))
whut
(((pohng)))
**)
Stand up.
Speak up.
But -
When it comes to a Black person -
You -
Just shut up
It’s funny how -
When it comes to us needing help,
Selective mutism is your only way out.
We fight the big fights,
Play the role of superhero - day and night,
We are heroes without the capes,
And yet when we need support, you hide behind the drapes,
Every other race is given grace,
But when it comes to us, no matter what we do - we are called a disgrace
When a Black person needs protection,
They see our skin, and - accuse us of seeking attention,
When we practice our right of self defence,
We are accused of a criminal offence,
Seen as criminal, for standing our ground
Then we are seen as a danger to be around.
Stand up.
Speak up.
But not for a Black Person,
Stand up.
Speak up.
If you are not Black, they won't see you as criminally liable,
Stand up.
Speak up.
Not to defend us, just to label us criminals.
I want to be powerful
and have a voice that matters
I want to silence wars and battles
be the reason glass shatters
I want my whispers to be booming
and my shouts to threaten thunder
I want to live afraid of silence
and never have to wonder
I want my words to be greater
than speeches made by kings
I want to teach the world to listen
to hear the flutter of my wings
I want to be famous for my voice
and not the silence that engulfed me
I want my words to hold such power
that they leave no room for enquiry
I almost died in silence
so I want to live out loud
I want to show the world I matter
and stand out from the crowd
I'm allergic to most things
Especially in fall and spring
But your lies I believed
And now I live to grieve
I was lying there pool of ashes, amidst ruins a faded glory
In the dark, outside the hustle and bustle , in seclusion
many many years.
Many storms did pass through testing me in the elapsing summer time
The wind chill , shivering cold a strong grip, haunted me days and nights
Yet again, a deadly lonesome , alone with the mundane, alone with gone days
An ashes of burned violin , left alone into an utter silence
I was undone, untreated, left alone with the progressing day
amidst an outcry, yet an indifference lingered on.
In the audacity of the unruly, no one was a reverie
out from nowhere, the awakened eve arose a croon
a weaving mesh of the cosmic creation. Even though I had the shade of the lamenting
A farewell with the tragedy of the departing of nothingness, no one.
Miles to go for a voyage, the trumpet enclosing toward an end
A sunrise, why the embellishing epiphany whence promising for the darkest night?
The betrayal of the white liberals
Is one so peculiar
For a party that claims allyship
Why are black people not invited
Or?
Do you already have your token
To show you are open
To the lie of progression
The covert nature of your motive
Is a secret that is no longer hidden
No tear shed for yet another innocent black victim
But outspoken to defend a republican
Then again
Birds of the same feather must stick together
The pitiful pretence of support you perform
Is evil only a 'wolf in sheep's clothing' could have
They move as if they are sleeper cell spies
Rising only for a white man's death
To them race comes before politics
White liberals 'care' until it comes to defending whiteness
They are just cowards dressed up in a cloak of 'niceness'
What? -
All to prove your differences
Or
Just as a way to boost your views
Acting like the odd one out with your 'individualistic' truths
Spare me your drawn on wounds
Especially when you have never had to walk a day in our shoes
It feels like a lock
Click
slamming shut on a door I used to walk through without thinking.
Words
they pile up inside me.
Not gone.
Not lost.
Just trapped.
Like a river swelling against a dam that will not break.
My mouth is stone.
My body heavy.
And every attempt to speak is like running in a dream:
legs sinking,
distance endless,
the finish line always just out of reach.
Inside, I am screaming.
Inside, I am whispering.
Inside, I am still me.
But you can’t hear me.
Because the silence is thick.
Not empty, no.
Thick with frustration,
thick with shame,
thick with the ache
of wanting
so desperately wanting to be understood
without having to explain.
So don’t rush me.
Don’t push me.
Stay.
Wait with me
in the quiet.
Because this silence
is not absence.
It is survival.
It is my body saying:
enough.
And when I return
when my voice crawls back
know this:
I was never gone.
I was always here.
Behind the glass.
Behind the lock.
Still me.
Always me.
Gardenia cottage is unseen by most
Built by a mushroom finger hut ghost
Deep in the blue forest, only seen by a few
She only shows herself when she thinks you are true
Memory has a selective ring
lets slip unpleasant things
Basks midst prism's colors, prelude to first light
discards unlit alleys, moon-less nights
Through the fog of time, memories fade,
Selectively, they dance, a masquerade.
They choose the fragments, both light and dark,
A tapestry woven with a heartless spark.
Tenderness vanishes, like morning dew,
Only scars remain, vivid and true.
Forgetting laughter, joy, and embrace,
Selectivity memory breeds a barren space.
A weapon disguised in forgetful guise,
Tearing apart bonds with venomous lies.
Selective memory, a double-edged sword,
Both protector and destroyer, to its own accord.
SELECTIVE REASONING a proverb
Opinions-
that ignore inconvenient facts
the figure watches
its selective seduction
of my pressed pencil
Listen to your heart and look away from the cynical
Keep looking for a downer
And you will find what lies beneath the pain that birth's your tears
Then it becomes even harder to look up
More like heads up
Ducking in fear
Making it even harder to hold back the ocean wanting to be free from your eyes
Even harder not to just say goodbye
Good enough will no longer get by
You will always find what you think of in your mind
p.s. no need to worry when you decide to just be you...
The universe is a mercurial cloud.
Against its overbearing chaos,
I have only my words.
They are never solutions,
Only questions.
Always selective in their attention.
Always filters screening out
The subatomic assault.
I have only my words.
I scroll through cable channels.
I download all the apps.
How do I ponder a musical chord?
How do I arrange an ordered thought?
The social order is our agreement,
Our consensus on what exists.
Hate memorizes more and forgets less than love,
as well as creditor and debtor... !
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