Is every black in America born
to a waiting crown of thorns...
Footnote:
Each of us can help to change
that
I wish I knew what I want to say
I wish I knew what to do
The truth is I've been at a loss
Since I lost you
It's the gap, the absence, the lack
The introspectively shaped hole
On the right side of the bed
That I realize tonight
The truth is
I can't move on
I don't even want to
Each moment that goes by
I'm starting to miss the days of my life
That I thought I was sad
I don't just love you, I need you
And I hate the fact that I want you
When you've moved on
I don't want to haunt you
But I miss your smile and your laugh
So for a moment
Please remember me again
Caught In-between Toxic Thoughts
Please don't fade away
the Color of jet-black shirts
Tumbling through washes
Forever stressed, stretched, laundered
Just to clean impurities—
Hey Girl.. Yes you the black one.
Looking at a halo graphic time lapse of my life makes me wonder what was my parents thinking. Who thrives to give birth under distress and demographic struggles? My mom did, her green eyes unlocked many doors but her skin tone kept many locked. My daddy raised with a Tuscaloosa odor of sweet corn and okra kept me on track physically but mentally I was getting my ass whooped. Who am I? A mistake? Should I been a mystery in a wash cloth after sex or a prayer of please god get me pregnant? I pick neither. Tethering the pain of can I make it in society or will God stop me from taking my life like my cousin Aaron. Closed eyes with open ears delegate my daily path while I squeeze my amethyst crystal of love while I hold my fake laughing Buddha looking for wealth.
I think God hates me!I’m struggling as a mom, wife, daughter, cousin, aunt and lastly friend. I exchange my faith for love, I use my love as a guide to protect my faith. I watch television of wants and small waists that causes me to look for a cheap plastic surgeon. Who said it was right? I can’t blame society, this is a God issue. I was told don’t question him? I was told just respect and love him. My heart is seeking what you are speaking of. My brain is thriving if illegal stereotypes that is killing my soul. How can I make it in society without being an Nigga stereotype. Oh that word! That word is just an Ebonics connotation of life long ignorance. Did you pray for me? I prayed for you, but I don’t know you!. See that metaphor do onto others as you would want them to do into you. I’m a helper by nature but my gate is silent with a creek that slowly lets you in. I’m nothing to a class of 23, I’m nothing to my six kids, I’m nothing to my husband, I’m nothing to society, I’m nothing to the world but I am somebody to myself.
"It's been a bit,
since I've written real words,
real verbs, letters lined up
to litter the page
with alliteration,
metaphors, hyperboles,
other devices that help gain
your undivided attention.
It's been a bit,
I almost quit,
because the last time I was on stage,
I felt like a tripped.
I felt like I didn't perform,
I knew I was pulling punches,
because there was much to consider,
but now it's got me a little bitter.
I held back.
I held back,
lowering my tone,
juxtaposed to my actual voice;
loud.
I held back,
because of the
familiar face
In the crowd.
I held back,
instead of letting it rip,
taking people on a little trip
to recount how one's lid
was flipped.
I held back
because I was scared
that I wasn't hip
and I wasn't hop,
when I was raised on Wu-Tang
and Nas
in a place where
where rain constantly drops,
and I know how
the beat drops,
the mic rocks,
and how rhymes can make time stop.
I held back
because the tone of my skin
has people guessing
wrong my ethnicity,
if you think I'm white,
you're not right,
and to be honest
that's not point.
Because I come from a place
where I was too nerd to be brown
and too chale be white
and too polite to be hanging out
with the gangsters
stealing cars
and shooting at other's backs,
and if you think
I'm talking about blacks
that's the problem,
assumption causes caution,
because not only were those
want-to-be thugs
of fairer skin,
my only friends
were much darker kin.
In the Marines,
we call ourselves green,
and you're either
dark green,
light green,
and there's no disillusion,
you disagree?
Shoot,
perhaps in the Army.
And yes,
the Navy too,
there's no turning back,
I'm no longer holding back,
what I'm saying is true.
The point of this piece
is to bring peace
to me,
that I was wrong
to hold back,
to withhold from the reader,
because how can I call myself
a poet
if I'm not painting a picture?
With your mind as the canvas,
and my words as the paint?
I watched poets come on stage,
deliver works of art,
things beautiful,
and I saw a beautiful, torn heart
put her hand up in the air
to an artist work,
like it was gospel in the church,
with thoughts on me! I saw,
but I held back,
and what I provided last time
was a finger painting
of child's skill.
I need to be real,
paint a real picture,
my motions and emotion
the finest paintbrush,
now fluttering about
all over your mind,
hopefully breathing to life
that I,
a man,
am more than some accusation,
of being mean heart.
Of being a relatable object,
supposedly,
to a poem so eloquently put
'he broke my heart,
and called it poetry'?
Get out with that
hand raised in the air
while another poet
spills out her pain,
and perhaps next time
I won't hold back,
paint a picture
of how her heartbreak
did become my poetry.
Yes, I'm being specific,
and context would make
for a much hotter piece,
but I'm over this,
over being scared,
I've conquered mountains
and crossed bridges.
Reader,
I respectfully submit,
give me another chance.
I won't hold back."
a talk with MR Black
*****************
I came across something that got my attention
its name was Herion, I guess I should mention.
I said hello, can you answer a question?
I have friends that just love you
why is that? whats so special that you do?
I waited a minute, to hear its reply
it answered back, because you ask, I wont lie
I give my users a sense of peace
I take from them pain and give them relief.
if you do me, I make things feel right
and I'll never leave you, morning or night!
I'll give you a way to escape your pain
I'll help you hide from lifes game.
Now doesnt that sound like I'm a friend
Remember, I'll stay with you until the end.
I thought for a moment...and said thats sounds fine
But about the stories, I hear all the time
How you ruin lives and take some away?
he just smiled and said... sometimes you pay!
Yes its true, I can ruin your life
but... if you love me like a husband or wife
I'll never leave you, and if you try leaving me
I'll give you such pain, you'll beg me please.
you'll do anything to stop the pain
you'll even sell yourself in my name...
I take from you all you got
and my friend, I wont stop
I'll take any love that you might have
I'll take away your kids, your mom or dad
I take the friends the you go and see
I dont want you thinking, you can live without me
I was shocked by what I heard
he wasnt lying, or being absurd
Then I ask, why would you be like this
it answered back, I can give you bliss.
Just try me, and you will see
I'll give you whatever, inside a dream
you'll do me and then you'll nod
and while your out, you can be robbed
Robbed of all your self respect
robbed of a love you'll one day regret
your self esteem will fade away
and you'll convince yourself its okay
I could not believe what I just heard
Black was true to his word
he didnt lie, or hide his sins
He knew that many would welcome him in.
he had taken some friends, which made me sad
I turned away, disgusted and mad
I thought about a woman I loved before
She had chosen black, and died on the floor
Her needle laying next to her side
the thought of her death mad me want to cry
She gave up our love and loved black instead
because she loved black, she now is dead.
as I turn from him I heard him say
I treat your kids, one of these days
©11/05/2016 Paul (ChryWizard) Posney
Painful and fatal disease
Not of this world...
Drawn down by Surama
Former priest of Atlantis.
Surama was a mummy;
But back restored to life
By a necromantic ritual
Performed in North Africa.
Wisdom and power
If the disease was spread.
Disgusted with this idea,
Surama left the humane.
My grammaw y tu abuela fueron primas...a lifetime ago, se jugaron en la tierra cojiendo al Sol
Con las ideas of unity y amor, sin las tareas de miedo y valor
Our grammaws were cousins when life was simple and jewelry told a story
We are blessed since then nothing steals that glory.
For I still have the heirloom that if we are in the same room you would recognize
The healing of a heart and the sight for sore eyes
Los braceletes que se cambiaron todo
Anyone who laid eyes on them would know
Que solamente si lo vieron, todos se pudiera quedar en casa, embrazando sangre esperando a sus abuelos a venir. But they did not notice or didn't care, shipped them off to live unknown fears.
But the game they played to try to evade their destiny is the reason why we have been fooled all this time. I am your blood and you are mine,
After all, your abuela and my grammaw are cousins, look how our smiles shine mirror reflections time after time....
Tell me
If I was born a demon
Would I be damn to a life of sin
Would the bloodline that I bear
Condemn me to a world
Full of regret and a false sense of joy
And if I knew this truth.
That I was bound to the lowest levels of hell
Tell me
Why would I hesitate to spread the devil's dogma
You see
Not all that are born of a dark nature are evil
Some souls are just curse with a malevolent outlook
But I believe that If an angel can fall from the grace of God
Then a demon can raise above his own eternal damnation.
For a black rose that blooms in the pits hell is still a flower unto God
~ Tony Paradise's Poet ~
My Blog - http://rarityofparadise.blogspot.com/