Thursday, April 17, 2008

To Love a Black Man

His skin is dark like mud

You only love him because he’s hung like a horse

Only a guilty man says

Hiding behind his invisible cloak of fear

Wishing to eradicate a blood stained history

Washing his snow white hands clean

Berating his kin for loving the very mud

He once enslaved and controlled


And now that I have my hands all dirtied in said mud

Growing within it love and passion

Fuelling his fire for life

And embracing his instincts for survival

His ingenuity for individuality

And creativity

His animalistic lust…

And visions for the future

I am no longer worthy of your attention.


For this white woman

Reminds you of your violent history

By loving the very mud you brought over in ships

Finding beauty in the shackles, chains and whips

For he has overpowered you

In spirit and survival

His lust and passion for life

Is the fuel that you so clearly

Choose to misunderstand

Never looking at it straight in the eye

Fearing the cycle set in motion

History continues to haunt you

As you continue to hide

Your face of racism

Under the invisible cloaks

And your hidden desires

To burn crosses in public


For a white women should never

Love the skin as dark as mud.

Monday, April 14, 2008

Alphabet Poetry

Altogether beautifully colourful
Definate equanimity
Fragrant gifts
Habitual integrity
Jazzy kaleidoscopes
Laudable moments nascent
Opulent perpetuity
Quixotic rhythms satiate time
Unequivocal vivaciousness
Wheedling xrated yearnings