Would it be safer to be born as a white person
In a world that worships them
What would it take for the world to accept black
When we have always been treated as less than
What would the world look like if we chose peace
Where our hands connect in the name of justice
But you don't want this
Clearly
Cause if you did we wouldn't live in a world of injustice
Where the only language you speak is racist rhetoric
Where your only purpose
Is to spread hatred
To a race that wants nothing more than to be accepted
But are met with your envy turned racist
So what makes you hate black people
Is it because when you look in the mirror
It cracks with jealousy
Is it because you see our potential
Or is it because our blackness is to political
To the point where you decide you have to get rid of us
And if you agree with this
With racism
You are sick and twisted
And if you believe in the devil
Even he would agree that your evil
Why we stopped explaining racism to you
Because even if it Slapped you in the face
You'd still claim it doesn't exist
So why would we spend our existence
Pandering to your ignorance
I mean we have better things to do like ending racism
The same racism you claim doesn't exist
Even though you've had the privilege
Of never experiencing it
Ain't that ironic
Telling a black person as a white person
That racism is not a problem anymore
It is not our job to educate
There's a thing called the internet
So stop being so ignorant
And use your white privilege
To get an education
And speak out against racism
We are done 'gentle parenting'
And codling your white fragility
We are done protecting your fragile egos
You need to wake up
And realise that not everything is about you
Because we are tired carrying the weight of your guilt
You decided to be ignorant
And now you'll face the consequences
Of being indifferent
Could Not Break My Spirit
Running alone in a crowded world, I lived my life in solitude. Some dreams came true in unexpected ways. Often, I thought I’d found my true calling, yet reality unfolded differently. I existed in the sheltered confines of my truth—the road, the pain, the silent games of survival in a sometimes-hateful America. Disappointment etched on faces, three years to secure a decent job, odds and ends to make ends meet.
I recall an agency assignment: a two-year-old toddler without ears. Her white parents handed a challenge and failed to change their ways. When lunchtime arrived, they said, “Step outside to eat; we’re Jewish.” I listened, smiled, and walked away, never to return.
Racism, pain, and low expectations—I vowed that no white person would feel what I felt that day. I quit the agency, guided by my grandfather’s wisdom. Sanity demanded distance from those who’d deny my humanity.
And so, I moved forward, my black hands never again touching that white baby. For I had lived
alone, seen it, and flushed it from my mind. In this world of bigots, I stood firm, resilient, and unyielding. A bigot, intolerant of differing beliefs, could not break my spirit.
Could Not Break My Spirit
Running alone in a crowded world, I lived my life in solitude. Some dreams came true in unexpected ways. Often, I thought I’d found my true calling, yet reality unfolded differently. I existed in the sheltered confines of my truth—the road, the pain, the silent games of survival in a sometimes-hateful America. Disappointment etched on faces, three years to secure a decent job, odds and ends to make ends meet.
I recall an agency assignment: a two-year-old toddler without ears. Her white parents handed a challenge and failed to change their ways. When lunchtime arrived, they said, “Step outside to eat; we’re Jewish.” I listened, smiled, and walked away, never to return.
Racism, pain, and low expectations—I vowed that no white person would feel what I felt that day. I quit the agency, guided by my grandfather’s wisdom. Sanity demanded distance from those who’d deny my humanity.
And so, I moved forward, my black hands never again touching that white baby. For I had lived
alone, seen it, and flushed it from my mind. In this world of bigots, I stood firm, resilient, and unyielding. A bigot, intolerant of differing beliefs, could not break my spirit.
I’m writing this poem because well
White People are crazy
and this is coming from
a white person
a white women
cuz damn
we have got to do better
cuz damn
I am tired of being associated with racist sexist
White people
come on
This isn’t new
And That’s what’s crazy
People are acting like
it’s new
We have been through this before
We have been through this because we caused it
Chinese exclusion act
And Asian hate crimes are only rising with COVID
And as these communities cry out
“Racism is killing us”
And white people just stand up and articulate that they need to go home
Wow
White people.
Damn
How are you capable of causing everybody so much pain.
I have tried my best to shut it down
Tried to shut it out
But
Damn
White people.
Damn
Inside every white person
There is an element of black
Inside every black person
There is an element of white
Inside every yellow person
There are elements of black and white
The Love song
I woke up early in a good mood thinking of writing a love poem to my wife.
looking in the YouTube, I came across
“The three tenors,” couldn`t resist their beautiful voices.
I was going to find “I believe in angels” by Abba
but first the famous tenors.
Wife woke up told me to turn it off she couldn`t sleep.
I remembered Lorenzo Marcus 1964 I was on a ship
unloading cargo destined for Rhodesia.
Everything has changed now LM is now Maputo
and Rhodesia is Zimbabwe, and it was a good time
for a white person.
So I didn`t play the Abba song as the lyric is banal
and I was no longer in a loving mood
Now, I know the barriers of the skin colour are the ones
Imposed by the human mind
The aesthetic of a man aren't embedded in his possession
But they are embedded in his ability to touch souls in this whirl wind of divided culture
I have seen no beauty so iridescent like that of a non discriminating mind
A mind free of prejudice and full of love so great it flows like an ocean
... I found that mind graced by the beautiful ' Naija Oyinbo '
An angel of words
An angel with halo traded for visibility
A woman with blooming love that radiates
... It's the magic of her words
The magical feel of the words carved by her pen
Touching souls, a privilege accorded to few minds
I found that mind graced by the beautiful 'Naija Oyinbo '
* Naija is a short way of calling Nigeria, and oyinbo means a white person.
22-04-2017
For Shadow Hamilton's contest.
Some whisper black, some mumble white,
When you marry them; they experience a stream of delight
The world started its life with the two colors united,
Then why there is a system that divides them?
Don't you remember how beautiful were those channels on tv?
Playing the black and white opera or a cricket spree
You appreciate the beauty of black and white photography,
Yet you discriminate a human based on topography
You admire the aesthetic tones of black and white in unison,
But look at them separately when it comes to humans.
You filter effects to look beautiful with black and white,
And yet when you come across a black or white person,
Your attraction gets biased between the two,
You look for more white and less black.
Aren't you a soul that's already blank?
The Pig
The pig, also called swine is the most human of animals
those who have tasted human flesh say it is not different
in taste and texture, but can easily be overcooked.
The domestic white person colour pig gets little exercise
cooped up in a pen where they have to sleep in their own
excrement and fattened for slaughter.
One can regard this as an ultimate cruelty to an intelligent
the animal is robbing it of natural dignity.
The wild pig –boar- is quite another thing, a good runner
that is not easy to catch, lives and thrives in Europe`s forests
it is not scared and can attack and kill you if it so wanted, but
the boar think humans stink and prefer to run away when
smelling Christian blood and the odour of dark church recesses.
Why is it that we as black (we being the black people who do it) have this sad tendency of thinking that white is the ultimate thing? What do I mean?
She's so pretty,ungathi ngumlungu?
She thinks she's better then everyone,and acts like a white person?
Look at the way she speaks English( normally because the person speaks fluent english) she thinks she's white?!
Did you hear what she said? She said she likes rock music (she must think she's white)
Her hair is so long and silky ,she must have European blood( as if a black person can't have beautiful hair)
We oppress ourselves by thinking that "white" is the race to aspire to be,when we actually really know nothing about the white community because we barely even know any white person (no offence to my "white" friends??) but really,maybe it's time we take the good things that with being "black" and make them a part of who we are as well.
The Race Thing
My ignorance was total, xenophobia in Africa; no, not
white people against black but black on black.
One sided I thought, mostly reading western history
that xenophobia was white against coloured people.
No I’m not shocked if surprised and I do not applaud
but somehow make me finally understand that Africa
has many races and many faces and are as different as
the Portuguese from The Swede, we get that we get
that and when we do xenophobia in Africa too.
No, this knowledge is no getting a white person off
the hook because white anti racism is built on fantasy
that we are so much better than them.
We who invented fascism a fever we now see seeps into
Israel too and make the people there think they are superb.
and have contempt for the rest.
SOMETIMES I WONDER IF , WHAT OUR HEROES IN HISTORY REALLY DID ANYTHING BECAUSE THEY FOUGHT SO HARD TO ABOLISH THAT WORD NIGGA.. NOW EVERY ONE IS BRING BACK IT HAS NOW BECOME POPULAR WORD . SOMETIMES I CALL IT #UNSPOKEN REASON BECAUSE SOMETIMES U SAY THING AND THEN THEY GET OFFEND BUT I AM SPEAKING OUT NOW. SO WHAT I AM SAYING IS TOO UNDERSTAND WHAT I AM WRITING . MY NIGGA ,WATS NIGGGA PEOPLE LISTEN TO WELL AND CLEAR WITH UNDERSTANDING NIGGA IS NOT AN FRIENDLY WORLD IS A DEGRADING WORD . DID OUR ANCESTOR FOUGHT LONG AND HARD BECAUSE IT DIDN'T HAPPEN OVER NIGHT THEY TO FOUGHT STRONG.
WHAT I DON'T GET IS IF A WHITE PERSON CALL U A NIGGA YOU GET OFFEND SO WHY IS OK FOR ONLY BLACKS TO SAY IT TO ANOTHER ITS SAME DEGRADING WORD AND THERE THE SAME SPELLING AND EVERYTHING. SO THINK TWICE BEFORE U SAY NIGGA OUT LOUD..
BY:STACY-ANN BARRETT
.
As I stalked the dust clouds
headed westward
and moved in mine red hide
for the closer vision
that beating was not our tribes
buffalo skinned drums
it was my Shoshone born
heart
as mine eyes intently stared
at that
ta-ba-bone sylph
My bow
and arrow
I quickly replaced with the
wild grass lands flower
and like our mountains lion
I crept besides
her pearly white flesh
Her trembling hand reached
for mine gift...
instantly as our hands began to
mesh
I felt the hot flash
of her fathers
wrath
Inspired by Deborah Guzzi's, Westward movement.
Ta-ba-bone was a Shoshone ("one coming from the
Sun, East") word for a white person.
Old Uncle Mack had a long life,
seen alot,
racism and civil rights,
picked cotton in a hot summer field
for a man who didn't care for him.
He rode the rails for most of his life,
seeing things and meeting people,
landed a nice retirement check.
Humor and wit seemed to pour out
of Uncle Mack like the Country Blues
he could play on that old Martin.
I met him late in his life
in the deep old South
of this nation through a friend.
He wasn't really my Uncle,
he became much more than that.
I help him do the things
he needed to do.
He taught me how to play the Blues
and told me stories of days long gone by.
On a hot July day my friend
called to tell me Uncle Mack
had quietly passed away that night.
At the funeral I was the only
white person around,
some of the family questioned me.
After the preacher said his say
and the tears were falling,
I began playing my guitar the way
Uncle Mack had taught me
and let my tears fall like rain.
All were silent when I was done,
I threw my guitar pick in the grave
and walked away thanking the Lord
I'd met this man,
my "Uncle Mack".
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