by Lauren Bealore
Aint I a woman
My strength held the rights of cups overflown
And honey I saw the seeds I planted grown
But the pain from the beating I bear alone
Bow & Arrow
by Zuri McWhorter
I weep for you
Like a willow sways in the breeze
I can’t control you
I should have never tried.
Tears roll down my face
Like hilly pastures, pollinate.
Color me in pain,
I should have never cried.
I will make time stop
if you call me to you
Pack my bags and walk straight to you
Include me in your prayer
Strip me of my layers
I don’t want to need you anymore.
My Black is Beautiful
By Lauren Bealore
My Black has been viewed as both wretched and wicked
Through the socially constructed eyes filled with despise and demise
My Black to them looked less like a butterfly and more of the appearance of a cricket
Steer Clear
by Zuri
Bad behavior tempts the fragile mind
into bent shapes, paper clips, intuition
creates imbalance.
Generational Exhaustion
by Christopher Sean
Once upon a time our culture was ripped away from us. . .
they took what we made Gold of and offered us the Brewster projects. . .
and the Jeffries. . .
framed as “High rises” aimed to keep us low. . .
and away because we weren’t “supposed” to be there in the first place. . .
Brightmo' Prince
by Brightmo' Prince
“They will never accept your black ass”
We’ve heard it, we’ve learned it
All they really want is
A quiet
Articulate,
Present but timid
Never saying more than what is needed
Nigga.
I mean, “black man"
Liquid Air
Between Black and Right
by James Kaymore
Since conception, we have been told, that our color is bad.
Been told lies of the things that has been done in the past.
Stripped of ourt heritage, robbed of creations,
blinded by inequities, strained in relations.
Like murder, and deceit, is colored in black.
While civilizations, were born on the`strength of our backs...
Pausing to Share
by James Kaymore
Blurried echoes, silenced by visions. In plain view for any that will listen.
Memories, I once had constantly forgetting. Misconcieved notions that I'm continually reminiscing.
Feelings, that cant be touched void of real emotions. Reinacted in my daily life, burtsing with convulsions.
The Holy Mecca
by Christopher Sean
Sometimes Detroit is everything I Love
Sometimes Detroit is everything I Hate
The Girl Who Cried Frustration
by Brandi Taliafero
So what were the truest intentions? . . . were your desires met? . . as quiet as kept,
low-key I fell for you . . .hard.
I’m lowered into this dark place . . . A place I thought I left when I left you
