For My Father

My father asked me to write something lighter.

I could not help but think of sunsets and rose petals,

But even petals

deserve metals for how well        they wilt

Dried and crunched by my lazy step,

I wish to tread lighter,

 

tall grass and cat tails

the wind whistling through the cellulose of living things

And rain tapping the nature           that never lived           to begin with,

Smooth Jazz rocks, and fruity pebbles        inanimate

The gravel wedges          between the rubber crannies

on the gum bottoms of my shoes

On each stepping stone,

I wish to tread lighter

 

the shady side of trees,

moss only capable of growth

because of the lack of light

hiding from sunsets that melt mud,

The Slip and slide of swamps and the bites of alligator teeth.

The teeth crack under my pressure,

Dropped, then buried in the heaviness of my foot print

Barefoot, dirty and bruised,

I tread as light as I can.

 

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Hair Journey: 2 months post big chop

I’m not sure at what point you stop calling taking hair clippers to your head ever 4-5 month, a “big chop” but I do not plan to find out. Big chopping is somewhat of a melodramatic yet uber important step to going natural. The big chop involves cutting off the damaged ends of your hair that are straight, dry, lifeless, and brittle. Everyone has their own reasons for big chopping, but the purpose is plain: to cultivate a fresh start.

I’ve been natural/ without perm since 8th grade 2010, yet I kept cutting off my hair but not with the intent to grow it out. Call it stress related or maybe consider the fact that hair should not be as meaningful as it is to my persona and individual identity–either way, I decided that continuing to cut my hair had major implications for me. For one, cutting it too short causes folliculitis, a scalp condition that leads to my hair follicules to become inflamed and possibly infected. Second, my hair is a beautiful texture and I wanted to showcase the beauty of my natural loose hair on it’s own.

 

So on June 7, 2018 I decided to cut my hair one final time before I issued a self-challenge: NO Cutting my hair for 1 whole year. I want to watch just how much healthy 4a hair i could grow. I am only 2 months in but my hair has already grown so much and I can’t wait to see what the next 10 months hold for my growth.

Black or Nude: A poem on Colorism

Black or nude I see beauty in you

From brown suga to cocoa powder

Or dripping gold and pure molasses

Black or nude i see beauty in you

 

 

this society has a complicated complex when it comes to complexion

It leaves me perplexed when i ponder the colorist obsession

 

(Pause)

 

Say “I’m black and beautiful” and say it even louder

Being another shade couldn’t make me any prouder

 

 

Black don’t crack

that’s a fact

Admired and imitated, black girls of every shade are magic

We all beautiful yet fair skinned privileged is beyond tragic

 

Fashion industry try to divide and conquer

Using racially ambiguous girls seems the trend to help companies prosper

Erasing representation leads to our falter

Forsaking the  deep hue of our ancestor whom we must honor

 

Honey, peanut butter, caramel are all sweet

But give credit to thee dark & lovely

queens who ain’t any less neat

In fact every skin shade shining when the sun imparts her VITAMIN D

 

 

Seek beauty & that’s what you’ll find

The more sun the more glow for black humankind

God been showing me lately how he made all shades divine,

Nude & fine and diversity leaves a sublime imprint on this earth

I imagine a world where nude has no color line starting from birth

 

And black skin

is not just a trend

 

For black beauty is internal, our melanin external & eternal destined to remain, not fade

we learn to love the freedom of our skin’s range no longer seeing many shades as a cage

 

Black or nude I see beauty in you

From brown suga to cocoa powder

say I’m black and In 2018 I’m ever prouder— And no matter my complexion

I’m Sayin’

“I’m black and beautiful” and say it even louder

confusion has overcome me (2014)

The August of Aaron

2014/ Des McCray

You haven’t texted me back yet. I miss you. I hate you. I’m crying because I think this is your way of telling me I no longer have any value to you. That this was some sick joke all along that you pretended to like me. Pretended to find me attractive in anyway shape or form. In less than a month, I’ll be in my own dorm with 3 other girls. Each one of them having boyfriends, but me, I’m just scorned. I thought you’d turn me from bitter to better. And just a few words from you had me light as a feather. So congrats you did. I let you in because of all that you said but you probably never meant it. You’re the first person whose heart I searched and found to be pure. So when I told you I loved you. I thought I was sure. I mean you made me feel some type of way. I thought our love was here to stay. But unless you come back into my life all this fleeting, soon to pass away. I won’t let anyone in again all because of you. Man I had so many dreams of us being together so long. But I guess I made a mistake. I admit that I was wrong. I wasn’t wrong to trust, There is no fault in love. But I guess I was too quick to be willing to accept that you were so good. Now I want to forget every nice word you spoke. I wonder if my love for you was some kind of joke. Years from now you’ll look back and laugh. Meanwhile I put you first but you put me last. I messed up, and I don’t know what to do but the worst part is the only person I want to talk to about this whole ordeal is you. But I can’t trust you and I can’t trust myself. I hate to say trust no one but being in love just aint any fun. I rather be alone. No love seat, I can stand up on my own two feet. I still want to ask “what was your intention?” But if you wanted to be noticed you got my attention. You hurt me these past few days then I’ve been hurt in these past few months. That says a lot since I lost so many friends. This poem really sucks so I’ll end, put it to rest. Even though you’re the worst, I thought you were the best. You can’t do anything to change the way I feel but if you came knocking at my door I’d probably let you in still. I’m just being real, letting you know that all the pain was worth it. Even though you made all my insecurities surface. You brought out a side of me that few people see, because I built up walls all around me. One on each side, one in front and in back. As a matter of fact, I give up. Love just ain’t for me. But I guess I had to learn the hard way and because of you I see.

P.S. If you text me back within the month of July I will forgive but obviously I will have to forward you this via email. However on August 2nd, if you do not respond I will block your number which would cause me to write a sequel to this poem. Wow Aaron you really suck & I’m done crying over you, about you for now. I still love you. Which sucks or maybe I just respect you a hell of a lot for you to be able to fuck my emotions up so terribly. Thanks. You’ve shown me I am human… Well let me stop being thirsty for you… Maybe I just liked you for the attention you gave me. Maybe I’m an asshole. You right. But see I deserve love because I’m a real ass girl who would ride with you till the wheels fall off. Wow like I’m the bomb. R.I.P. Me & Aaron. I’m saying all this, meanwhile I’m feeling the need to check my phone to see if Aaron has texted me. I’m literally the stupidest girl.. Like let me pray for my self.

In Jesus name amen.

P.P.S I’m sorry for cussing. Like forreal. Sincerely.

Brown Stone: A Poem

Brown Stone

 ancient soil slowly swallows the brown stone

That was planted to grow before sinking

 broken bricks sulked at the end of a legacy

yet the suffocating roots

wrestled freely for the place of stone

Demolishment choking the foundation as

Solid sticks poked and prodded and churned the obstinate matter

The earth cried out – TRESPASS

The competition cried out—PASS YOU NOT

The brown stone sinks deep

The roots creep

Water seeps

Into the undecided entry ways

Pure suffering

Screen Shot 2017-07-20 at 10.33.55 AM
Brownstone building in Harlem

Wonder Woman

blue uniforms are villainous capes to super heros

I hope invincibility

when black bones rot into mushrooms

When the Silver bullets

Come looking for silver backs

Gorillas that left the forest for fields

that caught on fire by a

Smoking gun,  lit with a smiling finger tip

silver bullet, punched a hole in me like fragile paper

flipped my wig like the deciding coin

I hoped invisibility

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Nubia: Wonder Woman’s sister

 

The Kept Around

 

she kept me around to roll blunts

as she sucked down difficult liquor,

cheap wine stained the back seat

she lifted her eyes dully from her cup

      could not drink away her sorrow

 

she kept me to cook

creole dishes, brown butter,

and fried chicken in month-old grease

lasagna, the layers as thin as her patience for me.

 

she kept me to cry

tears on her behalf,

cheeks hemmed up from life’s alterations 

the tears  stictched to her face

tears stream live, wirelessly

finding a weakened signal suppressed by the storm puddles

I swam through to reach her

 

she kept me around for dirty work

like digging ditches, or manning gardens in ever-burning forests
She kept me around to recycle later

She sewed my dreams

into sewers far away from her insecurities

I could not biodegrade in the midst of her dust. 

~Desforpres

A Universal Charm

 

Was never a night where

the stars hung         like hangers             from a warped, darkened attic

the vaulted vastness

and pastness

of sightly lights frighten by flashes            splayed so slight

teachers taught me about the sky

that the shine of stars is a relic from years gone by

an old flame

many a multitude of  beams

like white seeds                                         against fertile soil

held not the moon in place          with whispered conversation

ought not replace smiles in exchange for  sun

fixed my fingers into fists,           folded my arms

preventing the digits from pointing to far places

in fear of causing the moon to rise             before it’s time.

Rather I sat sharp,

face taunt with humble aspirations,

heavens highly aware of my impressive influence.

What a charm                 to be jewelry on the universe’s arm!