the black is bubbling over

our babies’ limbs lay
in the fields of explosive nature,

with tidings of blood & black,
white signifying the ties
between red & blue,

ready for battle & breakdowns,






with colors shaping
so much in
our lives on the

green & white keeps them
far away from
our jungles,
our tears,
our desolation.

yet and still,
we maintain what we came
with from the east.

that’s why the color
purple is one of sorrow
& royalty, of painful

it’s so beautiful,
but so painful to be Black.

red, white & blue
colors, the scheme of the
wallpaper that inevitably
portrays oppression
from sea to shining sea.

we drown in this scam
of bodied water that made
no promise,
but disorientation.

we use our bodies to
adorn & shield our
spirits from what we
cannot avoid.

the confrontation with
being a problem
& tackling what we
think is the problem,

sometimes we turn on
ourselves in this confusion,
wondering what we did
to deserve such treatment,
referencing our self-hate
as the reason.

sometimes we drown in
the Atlantic
without realizing
who or what threw us

but when will we realize
that the farther we
get from the cotton fields,
the closer we get to the
prison cells?

we will see that
they are one in the same.

the black is
bubbling over
with rage,

smog will be seen in the
plantation mansions on
the other side of the
train tracks,

the grass won’t
be greener


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