What will happen to me in this world?
'Merica, a mistake in the making.
Gentrifying neighborhoods.
Planting drugs in my community.
Whatever happened to our "equal opportunity"? Read on
Poetry / all
The rituals we follow before November eighth
Empty the car and flood into the voter booth,
Me, and my mother, and my baby brother to boot. Read on
I am not well.
The kingdom is balancing on the edge of the cliff
Of the rift
Provided by a madman and a hypocrite Read on
i want a home without death without fear //
the house i live in struggles with welcoming me //
it doesn’t accept my skin just because it is riddled in naps & honey // Read on
Strange Fruit is falling/Its skin, bruised from years of neglect
Its soul weary of the fight/Its soul, beaten down for standing strong in its convictions
Its blood paints the ground for loving its brother... Read on
I am brown/Brown, dirt is brown/They think I am dirt, dust/
They clean me out from underneath their fingernails/Wrinkle their noses in disgust/
But no, I am brown/Brown, black soil, fertile/I am soil/I am your roots/Without me no trees/No oxygen for you to breathe... Read on
