Conditions.

Written after listening to Billie Holiday sing Strange Fruit.

Feet stomp on the pavement.
Intentions sync with their “movement”.
Faces twisted as they seek improvement.

CHANGE. CHANGE. CHANGE.

Emotions enlightened and self provoked.
They’re tired of always being soaked,
In the blood of their ancestors.
In the blood of their friends,
Their mothers and brothers.
Their fathers and sisters.
Their cousins and their neighbors.

Soaked in tears as they wear it in fear.
In hate, in need, in desperation and their despair.

To hear a mothers scream as her body sobs.
As her child is nothing but a blob.
A blob of blood and mess.
A blob of nothing to be remembered other than his rap sheet.

LIFE. LIFE. LIFE.

Feet stomp on the pavement.
Intentions sync with their “movement”.
Faces pleading as they seek improvement.

Skin covered in bruises.
Skin too dark they can’t see them.
Eyes too blind they don’t dare to.

Nose too big, hair too nappy.
Lips too broad they look like a monkey.
A buffoon for their amusement.
Dance for us. Work for us. You know you wanna be us.
Jump for us. Sleep with us. You know you wanna please us.

Do it.
So stern.
DO IT.
Challenging.

Tables have turned but the condition remains the same.
Tanning beds and plastic surgery.
They wanna be us but can’t acknowledge us.
Everything is a fight. Everything needs to be let go.
“Her skin is so tan, Jessica is so gorgeous”
Two sides of the same dime.
“Her skin is so dark, Jada would be cute if you could see her at night time”
Jokes. JOKES?!

FIGHT. FIGHT. FIGHT.

Finally as a whole we are accepting ourselves.
Natural hair and our personalities unhinged by another’s influence.
“You look better with straight hair.”

“BLACK POWER!”
Pride and fists shot out towards the sky.
Pride and fists dripped with dominance.
Expectance. A well over due soliloquy.

One step forward two steps back.
Billie Holiday once sang, “Black bodies swinging in the southern breeze.”

Bodies dropping. Hearts infuriated.
Revenge never sought and tears never heard.
The ghetto will eat you alive.
That’s ok because we don’t have anywhere else to go.

Reviews

[jacob erin-cilberto]

this is incredibly powerful....makes me think of before the 60's and after the Civil Rights Movement...and i feel, unfortunately....we haven't come nearly far enough...there is still such distinction when we all should look at each other as the same....human beings.
j.

[Coyote Poetry]

I believe race and color is not the problems anymore. It is poor and the rich. USA, 2% have 98% of the wealth. The worst separation in the world. The men in power love to create separation. I live in Detroit. Black, Mexicans, white and Arabic been living together for 50 years without conflict. No perfect place. When your leader are multi-millionaires. Do you believe they have concern for the poor? I see people not eating to buy medicine or buying food and no medicine. We need a real revolution. The Martin Luther king Jr. kind. Where millions stand as one. Then Washington may react? Thank you my friend for sharing your outstanding words.
Coyote

[adichie]

The colours are the same as in Ms Holliday’s song, as in they complement the grim picture. Where she talks about death, I hear life and standing up, Ms Angelou’s rising. Nobility in a ghetto frame.

As you say, a well over due soliloquy.

Adix

[JR]

Quite an emotional piece, you used vivid imagery to really draw me into the struggle in a way I could understand. You also contrast the violence with the more subtle idea of giving in... a dissolution of culture through assimilation rather than force. Both are just as destructive. From the structural side, the rhyme scheme was great for this piece... right from "Feet stomp on the pavement..." the piece felt like one long, elaborate dance. Love the repeated words, really lends to that feel. Nice, powerful work.