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.
Justice or JUST US -
It seems to be - that this is NOT -
Just a trend, but a common thread,
To how things seem to work -
And no I'm not being woke,
Us Black people just seem to know,
How -
This world works.
We see with our eyes open,
They see with wilful ignorance,
Double standards become the white man’s self fulfilling prophecy,
A legacy -
Created to keep Black people in a state of misery,
In a state of unwanted complacency,
In a state of anxiety -
Of an unknown future,
Where self defence is a life sentence,
And being attacked is a death sentence
Justice was never for US,
Just for U -
Who?
Non Black people -
They get excuses,
We get damnation,
Their violence is proof - of abuse,
Our innocence - twisted to fit the narrative,
Damned if we defend ourselves, damned if we don't,
Either way we don’t get to go home,
A body bag or a prison cell?
Either option is a different version of hell.
Justice is not for us -
A Black person.
We do not get the privilege of impartiality,
Just the label of guilty,
Where the colour of our skin -
Meant justice was a case we would never win.
I have a bow tie stereotype
thinking buffoon, bozo, clown, no hype
more common back in 1962
makes no difference if it’s red or blue
when I see a bow tie, I immediately think clown
the fact I stereotype at all, makes me frown
I cannot stand a transexual, my friend Linda tells me.
Have you ever met one?
No, and I don’t want to.
They are creepy and weird.
I do not tell her that she has met one,
but she never knew they were one.
Why would I say anything if our mutual friend did not disclose this?
Now I know the reason for the non-disclosure.
I would feel the same way this child felt.
You know who to trust, and who not to trust
Especially a child; they are more discerning than most.
I am glad she kept it from her, and relieved.
Well first of you have to be black
So if your not sorry about that
I guess you're just gonna have to be believed
I know for once your not included
How does it feel not to be the centre of attention
I guess it must be hard having white privilege
Oh and also being favoured
And no I'm not joking
Anyways back to the point
Black girls listen up
So what you are gonna need to is just open your mouth
Cause they don't like that
They'll call you violent
Kicker is they hate when your also silent
And use that as an excuse to discredit us
To dismiss us
They do this intentionally
So people won't believe us
I know
How scandalous
You're also gonna have to just exist
Yeah this one's gonna be the easiest
To accomplish
Us living apparently really hurts them
So they are probably gonna do everything
To make sure our voices are ignored by everyone
Because who is society going to believe
I'll give you a hint
The ones who have privilege
Sucks don't it
Well that's how you know you're doing something right
Cause remember we don't want to be believed
I mean it really is just that easy
Because when you're black
You're automatically not believed
Forget everything you have heard about stereotyping the pigs.
I met some the other day, who were cleaner than my cousin Jigs.
They vacuumed and dusted the barnyard until it was clean enough to eat.
Then they cleaned out the barn, until it was ridiculously spotlessly neat.
Forget about mud, someone said when they met these pigs.
They are now doing some weird dance, wearing clean glitzy wigs.
Their hooves do not have mud, not even a tiny bit of dirt.
Do not stereotype these pigs, said my amazed cousin Gert.
Tell me—
Did you fear the
Rumors?
About me, us, ilk?
Greedy and needy and yearning
For what you
Cannot give us!
I’m her—your
Worst fear
Given flesh.
Insatiable, hungry
Consumed with a need no
One can meet.
I mean it. No one. Biologically impossible.
I do want it all.
In me, around me, on me,
Breathe in the smell of one and
Taste
Another.
I’d beg,
Really.
I am everything wrong,
But I feel so right
I want to be loved and
Used.
I don’t think the two
Thing are mutually
Exclusive.
Ebony blue-eyed dragon of fierceness with green iridescent wings,
How do you hide in the night sky?
Not easily, she replied, but it can be done, if you are true to your kind.
Better when it is foggy, and when other dragons are not about,
for this is when people least expect you.
Do you sneak up on your enemies? I asked her.
No.
Never?
She shook her powerful head, ‘no’.
Why not?
“I have no enemies,” she told me. “Only friends I do not know yet.”
Teaching me a valuable lesson, and to not generalize dragons.
"Not everyone who drinks is a poet ... some of us drink because we're NOT poets" - Dudley Moore, "Arthur"
Not all poets are lonely and envied, apart,
Broken, dark souls straining for light, outspoken and proud.
Not all musicians struggle with substance,
Or the need to be introverted exhibitionists, misunderstood.
Not all artists are quiet, brooding spirits,
Searching for answers in the intoxicated arms of promiscuity.
Not all bards are creative genius savants,
Pressed to the pulse of passion, fools for a provocative smile.
And not all multi-talents dance for demons
Under the wan of a mocking moon, resolving life with ellipses.
But if you look, feel and listen very closely ...
There are still, for stasis' sake, a foolish few of us, remaining ...
Angel?
Demon?
Faerie?
Witch?
Random labels
None apply.
We are all changelings
Pure and simple
Or complicated and unpure
Depending upon the mood, the moment, and our momentous events.
Divorce, death, cancer, car wrecks, they all take a toll on us.
Changing us completely in one second.
Giving us a perspective we never had before.
Showing us that our opinions are not the same now.
Sometimes switching to the opposite side in one second.
When we become the needy, we stop bad-mouthing the freeloaders.
When we realize how close we are to homeless, we maybe develop a little more empathy for them.
There are life-changing events happening every day.
We may go into some of them kicking and screaming,
But we still
Go into them
Changelings that we are.
Angel? Demon? Faerie? Crone? We’d best leave labels well and good alone.
While I appreciate the vacation
it would have been better if it were paid.
Funds lessened by nature’s aggravation,
lends credence to the starved artist charade.
You thought you had me figured out
Before you knew my name
Cause you're you and you're unsatisfied
That I am not the same
You'll never change the way I love
And you can fight for you're dominion
But I'm worth a million times the weight
Of a dogmatist's opinion
I know that all that you can see
Is a stereotype of me
All that you thought I'd ever be
Is a stereotype of me
Did you ever think that you could see me
Past the prejudice you hold
I'm not the picture you created
I'm not the things that you were told
You're voice is long since dead to me
I won't even be provoked
When it hurt you to see me smile
The things you said went up in smoke
I know that all that you can see
Is a stereotype of me
All that you thought I'd ever be
Is a stereotype of me
By: Kyle Ezra Kriticos
Life of a stereotype me not
Doing the actions I forgot
Like freezing when I should be hot
Digressing your opinion of a plot
Doing little when expected of a lot
If I don’t have it, then what do I got
A loose rope with a knot
Or cold piss in a pot
With the gun of truth, here’s my shot
Of the life of a stereotype me not
Joke I will bomb you,
Offend my faith, god and I
I threaten you with death?
Am I what joke says?
Offend my faith, god and I
I threaten you with death?
I am not this way,
Offend my faith, god and I,
I threaten you with death?
I want peace and love
Offend my faith, god and I,
I threaten you with death?
I want free speech rights,
Offend my faith, god and I,
I threaten you with death?
Tolerance I preach
Offend my faith, god and I,
I threaten you with death?
Joke I will bomb you,
Offend my faith, god and I,
Prepare for the bomb.
Statistics show an epidemic
A problem at hand
the statistics are looking at me.
They say that my education is an unattainable, unfathomable, distant goal
That a life on the streets is the farthest I will ever go.
They say that my qualifications will limit my achievements,
They say I will be a never-ending victim of the streets,
Healed only by the dosage of incarceration
They say that I will desert the very ones I love and live a life
full of emptiness.
They say this is my destiny.
I refuse.
I refuse to molded by the world around me.
I refuse to yield to the expectations set before me to fail.
I refuse to limit my potential
I refuse to be the statistic’s advocate and follow its path to death and destruction.
I refuse to live my life dictated by the very one’s trying to destroying it.
I refuse to abandon this present journey I endure in breaking the stereotype,
which will end only when my children can enter this world, not having their lives
pre-
destined by it, but by following the path set forth by God.
I refuse to be my father,
Whoever he was?????
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