Silence!
The conversations in my head poking fun at me. Shutting the door hiding behind the smiles even though my head is screaming wake up! Silence. The voices constantly churning like a well oiled machine. Keys! keys.. Keys! where are the keys to silence the thoughts in my head. Conversations in the darkness. Help me please.. Silence! on my knees my head between my legs seeking the solitude from the world in my head. I just keep smiling and maybe no one will realize the insanity that plays in my mind. I pull myself out of my bed adorn my self with the beautiful trinkets that mask the drama going on inside of me. No one knows. I am beautiful, working class. But inside of my head churns the thoughts that molest my soul. Silence! flashing images that are hidden in curtains of my mind. Maybe one day someone will hear them and ask me why? Someday, they will say me too the screen in my head plays those conversations in the darkness. Silence! Too many voices in my head. Where do I turn? captured by the mirage that tricks my mind. The battle in my mind is my stronghold. the piercing voices that seize my tranquility. trapped in the cycle of hopelessness that surround me. The evil that men do keeps me from stepping forward. My mind takes control and tells me the darkness is my home. I fight daily to step into the light. Keeping my smile so no one else knows the battle I fight everyday. Silence! in my mind is what I seek.. a peace treaty to keep me safe. Silence! if only you knew how precious that quietness around you is to me. |
Stop! Hands Up! man what did I do? Is it a question about my race. I was born this way. Is it my face that causes you to hate.. Hands up. Wait a minute. Is it the color of my skin that that intimidates you. What about the man walking down the street.. His face, his skin.. Is it about the way I walk or whistle at the woman walking down the street. Is it the wallet filled with dollar bills. Hands Up.. What is it about my color that makes you cross the street when I pass you by. Is it the way I look with dark brown eyes. What is it! Is it the words of kindness coming out of mouth, the respect my momma taught me when you see a man, a woman or girl. You stop and help them across the street. Is it because I no longer look down at the ground when you pass me by. Is it because I wont step to the side when you enter a room. Is it because my skin, my race speak louder than your words. Hands up. Is it because I no longer slink away into the darkness when you call me name. What is it! Hands up! Is it because the railroads we build are no longer underground but above ground next door to your door. What is it? Is it because my colored skin rallies my people to stand up and speak. Is it because brothers are no longer swingin from a tree that you invented a new way from the barrel of your gun. Why does my skin cause you to pause in the darkness and tremble with fear. I am man, a black man, a black woman, a black child. I am somebody's man, somebody's daughter, somebody's child. Just like you.. Hands up! swinging, swaying, choking on my own blood. Why do you hate me so much. I reach out my hand to help those in need. While you slap mines and leave me breathless on the concrete floor. Hands up. What is it America that causes you to pause at the color of my skin. Hands Up!
Amenah Rose |
Black Woman Just too Dark
I asked my mother what's wrong with my skin? she asked you are too dark girl. You are like dark chocolate it's good for your soul but too dark for a man! Lighter you are the more privilege you become. I remember being called chiggy boo., black nerd, dark monster and sambo girl but not by the white man but by the black boys that surrounded me. Confused in my head thinking aren't they as dark as me? Is used to be said the blacker the berry the sweeter the juice. Sweet for who? When you walk around in a world where you own people look at you and scream. Sweeter for them. the hurtful words that mark my skin. bruise my image and hinder my self-esteem. It's not the white man that calls me sambo! but the one who bears my skin that mars my image. Twisted minds looking at their own skin abandoning them because of the color of their skin. We come in a variety of flavors but we live in a world where even our own consider their lighter skin more superior than our own. Looking down on the darker woman bullying her to no end. Torture by the image of our ancestors those inferior black woman. Her skin is so dark she can't possibly be beautiful! chain her up, hide away the keys let her never come out for her dark skin hollers segregate them now. Slavery been abolished yet we still feel the stings of the iron chains not from our white masters but from our black brothers and sisters who are ashamed to know our name. Black lives matter but we shudder at the thought of revealing our dark melanin skin. Afraid to show our natural hair. Braids have become too black so we iron our hairs to step up in class. We no longer bind our hairs with strands of rope for in it we find that it is just too black. I asked my mother what's wrong with my skin. She responded you are just too dark and it's just not good. When I walk into a room full of white men they marvel at the complexion of my skin and the texture of my hair while black men turns their back slinking into thin air. When my daughter asked what's wrong with her skin? I responded you just too beautiful for lighter colored skin.
I asked my mother what's wrong with my skin? she asked you are too dark girl. You are like dark chocolate it's good for your soul but too dark for a man! Lighter you are the more privilege you become. I remember being called chiggy boo., black nerd, dark monster and sambo girl but not by the white man but by the black boys that surrounded me. Confused in my head thinking aren't they as dark as me? Is used to be said the blacker the berry the sweeter the juice. Sweet for who? When you walk around in a world where you own people look at you and scream. Sweeter for them. the hurtful words that mark my skin. bruise my image and hinder my self-esteem. It's not the white man that calls me sambo! but the one who bears my skin that mars my image. Twisted minds looking at their own skin abandoning them because of the color of their skin. We come in a variety of flavors but we live in a world where even our own consider their lighter skin more superior than our own. Looking down on the darker woman bullying her to no end. Torture by the image of our ancestors those inferior black woman. Her skin is so dark she can't possibly be beautiful! chain her up, hide away the keys let her never come out for her dark skin hollers segregate them now. Slavery been abolished yet we still feel the stings of the iron chains not from our white masters but from our black brothers and sisters who are ashamed to know our name. Black lives matter but we shudder at the thought of revealing our dark melanin skin. Afraid to show our natural hair. Braids have become too black so we iron our hairs to step up in class. We no longer bind our hairs with strands of rope for in it we find that it is just too black. I asked my mother what's wrong with my skin. She responded you are just too dark and it's just not good. When I walk into a room full of white men they marvel at the complexion of my skin and the texture of my hair while black men turns their back slinking into thin air. When my daughter asked what's wrong with her skin? I responded you just too beautiful for lighter colored skin.
Blame it on Me!
a child sitting in the shadows of the moon
whimpering in the mildew of the man
who says he loves her..
Shattered by the dreams that have
plagued her life of molestation
of her childhood dreams she never forgot
Blame it on Me! she says.. a child pawned
to the highest bidder. He was supposed to be my
protector, my friend, my teacher.. instead he became
my nightmare in the daytime and in the night
walking in the garment of fear as my knees clenched
trying to keep his hands from my heart that was
broken in the dark. he said, he needed to teach me
what my genders purpose was on earth. In my mind
if this what was my purpose then abort me right now.
Blame it on me! I kept silent in my soul never telling
anyone how the hole in my heart was cause by
the hands in the dark. I grew up with the images in my mind
so I punished myself by sleeping around. Blame it on me!
For my purpose on earth was too be shamed, molested and
cursed. The hands in the darkness twisted and pulsed
I needed to go deeper to fight so I went live on camera
for the world to see. I played out my story before for them to
see the images in my mind. Pounded, slapped, spanked
stomped and molested by the parade of men
that ravish my flesh. My nightmare has become
my reality. Blame it on me!
a child sitting in the shadows of the moon
whimpering in the mildew of the man
who says he loves her..
Shattered by the dreams that have
plagued her life of molestation
of her childhood dreams she never forgot
Blame it on Me! she says.. a child pawned
to the highest bidder. He was supposed to be my
protector, my friend, my teacher.. instead he became
my nightmare in the daytime and in the night
walking in the garment of fear as my knees clenched
trying to keep his hands from my heart that was
broken in the dark. he said, he needed to teach me
what my genders purpose was on earth. In my mind
if this what was my purpose then abort me right now.
Blame it on me! I kept silent in my soul never telling
anyone how the hole in my heart was cause by
the hands in the dark. I grew up with the images in my mind
so I punished myself by sleeping around. Blame it on me!
For my purpose on earth was too be shamed, molested and
cursed. The hands in the darkness twisted and pulsed
I needed to go deeper to fight so I went live on camera
for the world to see. I played out my story before for them to
see the images in my mind. Pounded, slapped, spanked
stomped and molested by the parade of men
that ravish my flesh. My nightmare has become
my reality. Blame it on me!