my heart beats with my history. shaped like Africa. chiseled out of flesh thick and smooth, so red and rich that iron condensed soil couldn’t give birth to the roots i produce. the nile, long and never-ending, pumps its glittery waters through the depths of my veins, the source of my strength and the existence of my pain, emptying itself into the mediterranean waters of my soul, replenishing my ancestors with every rising tide. every breath of air i inhale is fraught with the cries of forgotten mothers, raped daughters, bastardized sons and murdered fathers.
my throat is grooved with the smoothness of a rope that can’t be seen. but it suffocates me all the more. i am lynched every time someone suppresses my thoughts, leaving me with sore skin every time i remember the muting of my voice. no longer should i ignore the bass of my beliefs and the treble of my emotions, a dangerous combination when they rule in harmony in a room full of criticism. i have beautiful high notes to accomplice any argument that counters my beliefs. i’ll pierce a soul so deeply that i’ll never be questioned again.
every mind i alter, every thought i change, reminds me of who i am. every feeling that is prevented from breathing, i induce into birth with contractions of pure love and clean spirits. my saliva is a truth serum that will set free the secrets of the earth. the winds whisper violently in my ears, telling me the lies that men try to hide deep down in parts of the earth that man has never seen. taste the electric touch of my lips and i will find the honesty that’s been stretched thin for so long in the realms of evil ways.
i’m familiar with watercolor-based minds whose pale-colored frames fade over time. i’m familiar, too, with acrylic-crafted souls that weaken and crack under persistent force and fury. i’ve learned to surround myself with only oil-based beauty, one that the turpentines of the earth would have to fight to erase. because i am created from the best of the earth: the reddest soils of ancient nile valley civilizations; the bluest skies trapped in the darkest of nights; the blackest of pupils that see the truth, and whose sockets well up with tears from the salty realization that the colors of america’s flag will never live up to the justice of my hues. because mine are the shades of the universe, ones that can’t be charted on a map of hexadecimal values.
i can sift through the complexity of any simple man, because what he presents to the world as enigmatic is merely a cleverly disguised human who is afraid to be found floating in the vulnerability of weakness. grains of sand from the sun-scorched sahara seal my eyes during the moments i sleep. when the sun rises and awakens my soul, i am reminded of my undying devotion to the world. don’t tell me i can’t fly, don’t tell me I can’t soar. i drape this planet in a love that could never be extinguished. and one day, one enhanced step at a time, i will rid this place of the evil that plagues it.
tell me i’m not beautiful. tell me i’m not human. and i’ll stare you in the black of your eyes and tell you the truth you are afraid to face. I’m flawed in the most beautiful way possible. and still, my love survives.
Batty Man Fi Dead!
OK, that was random, lol.
Seriously, someone left the best comment on your site. So I ask, exactly what is your major again? Because you are good.
many of our people refuse to talk bout our history. u did in did in such a creative way by correlating it with your present and history which reminded me of my heritage which is our way of life that determines our culture and gave me a sense of belonging
I think this is great. The only flaw i see in it is that you say “I’m flawed in the most beautiful way possible” but we all know u are perfect…..
how is that for a not so anonymous comment….miss you…:)
Very deep. I cant find the words to describe your poem. Another fellow smart and attractive Jamaican doing big things… We’re taking over lol…keep writing more…
Talent, Personality, Looks, is there anything you’re not good at? Job well done.
for the writers of the earth … that was serious … u got some polished word play .. i like it a lot … it was rah .. like me :-P
why aren’t you a creative writing major?