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    poetry


    dots Submission Name: crayondots
    --------------------------------------------------------





    Author: elohimswork
    ASL Info:    30/M/Chi
    Elite Ratio:    4.52 - 76/97/39
    Words: 478
    Class/Type: Poetry/Misc
    Total Views: 1267
    Average Vote:    2.0000
    Bytes: 3852



    Description:
       this is about a lady i met one day...
    an this is my poem of her life through some of her words & my eye's...

    still under construction...


    Make the font bigger!! Double Spacing Back to recent posts.

    dotscrayondots
    -------------------------------------------


    ethnicity cloaked
    in a cotton top coat.
    don't ask...
    she won't tell...

    her name may
    give you...pause
    then the
    thought of it
    just fades away
    like a
    long applause.

    a ocean of emotions
    swirl & swirls
    to a...perfect storm
    that crashes
    just beneath
    her surface.

    she stands lost
    in the western woods.

    As a 1st generation
    Americano.

    Mrs. Chameleon
    blends & meshes
    in all the right
    schoolastic cliques
    an clubs,
    even though she
    feels like the only
    spade in the deck.

    she's not ready
    to be set...

    at recess...
    she runs as if
    the chime of the
    bell makes her
    feel...
    freeded
    liberation...

    straight to
    the box.

    were the
    love of the
    cool, coarse
    tan sand
    up against her
    milky skin.
    lets her
    escape again.

    within the
    confinds of her
    mind she's
    no longer
    lost & alone.
    her imagination
    emerges from
    its coccon...

    chanting low...

    "if only i was brown...
    Mother Mary..."
    "if only i was brown...
    if only...
    if...only...
    i was brown...
    maybe i could
    stop droppin
    piggy banks
    in fountains
    wishin 4 color
    & fallin to my
    knees ritually prayin
    4 color..."

    you see...
    the only brown
    she see's
    is in her enviroment
    & on T.V.

    touching the trunk
    of a tree.
    "is this what it feels like
    to be brown."

    changing channels
    on the tele
    "is that what i have 2 say...
    is that what i have 2 do...
    to be brown."

    The diluted innocence of a child...

    her native tongue
    1st
    unfamiliar...
    then foreign.

    abuela
    was her
    only connection to the
    past...& now she's passed.

    the umbilical cord
    for what lyed before.

    severed...

    no more food
    for thought
    to enrich her
    soul.

    fall
    was her favorite
    time of the year.
    because
    she could see
    more brotha leaves
    an sista brown.

    then fat man winter
    comes &
    lays blanco
    upon the land.

    in the fall
    her vibe stayed
    vibrant & wonderous
    like the colors,
    an she would wonder
    an ponder...
    "why not the
    outside of me...
    why not me..."

    as the years fold over
    she even felt
    her body
    giving over
    to help perpetuate
    the illusionary lie,
    with the lack of
    curvaious curves.

    the erosion
    of heritage
    leads to malnutrition
    caused from
    cerebral anorexia.

    no language,
    customs,
    or self identity
    to hold her grounded
    widens the chasm.

    she wants not
    history...,his-story...
    she wants
    herstory.

    now...
    I find myself
    pondering & wondering
    if she has a
    baby girl
    would she name
    her

    "Autum"...

    Thank you
    for the book
    free Mumia...

    blessings...



    4 fingers & a pen poetry.




    Submitted on 2006-05-31 20:39:34     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
    Submissions: [ Previous ] [ Next ]

    Rate This Submission

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    4: Pretty cool
    5: Wow!




    ||| Comments |||
      Alright alright......let the LIGHT complected girl come on over and give her two cents! LOL!

    This was unique. There was a lot of power in this. Even thought it came across in a sweet way there was still that "umph" behind it. All to be brown. My daughter is biracial and always tells me that she wished I was brown like her. Takes a while to explain to such a young child that color is not a definition. That we are what we are but all for a reason. And none of it is to make one different from another on a form of seperation. But to make us different from each other as individuals. We are all one race which is the human race. And God never intended such a thing as "color" to be something one human held against another.

    Ok....I'm rambling.....back to the subject. (just reminded me of my lil one that's all)

    You always have a way of making your words flow smoothly. As though you are eating a piece of chocolate right after drinking a sip of coffee. It enriches the flavor of the ingredients. Just as your writes do. You put them on the paper in such a way that all of the contents are more pronounced.

    Not too many can grab my attention in the way that you have. I am dedicated to your work.

    I applaud you from the poets lounge crowd!

    Much love,

    Li Li
    | Posted on 2006-06-01 00:00:00 | by Munchie_1226 | [ Reply to This ]


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