Writers Corner



    I can't understand why I love the Black Man, who won't take my hand, who finds a way to tear me down, who makes me his clown, who waits for revolution, without concrete solutions, who carries his glock, and sells me his rock, who can't let me breath without sex up his sleeve, who has me watching his kids, but support ain't his biz, who sees no importance in unity. . . always looking for another me, as I slide down his pole my image is so out of control, who I always called god, who I always called god, who I always called god. . . but it was all a facade. Not wanting me to believe, not wanting me to achieve, not wanting me to be succeed. We're not god cause all we do is bleed. I'm not god cause all I do is heed. I'm not god cause all I do is breed. I'm not god cause all I do is need. From your intentional pain, love has gotten me insane and you dim out my light, love to stir up a fight and make me your case, being shamed to my face. Is this my legacy? Is this what God has called me to be? Oh, I don't understand this love I have for the Black man.

    Lock Santa and Franklin Up
    I Swear on Moms


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    Monday, 21 October 2019
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