My name is Keith and I’m a 26 year old black man from Georgia. I grew up about an hour outside of Atlanta, in a suburb called Canton. My hobbies include drawing, reading, skateboarding, soccer, basketball, and nature walks. I like to write about many topics, including love, society, race, and philosophy.
I began writing as an outlet. I felt I had a lot to say, but as a child, life hammered home that my voice didn’t matter. To my family, to my teachers, to my peers. Eventually my voice didn’t matter to me either. So I hid.
The sun comes up,
I follow its lead.
I head to the mirror,
Gotta brush my teeth.
I look in the mirror and who do I see?
Me… Just me.
Now it’s time for school.
Time for some human interaction.
“You’re one of the good black people”
Well shit… Didn’t know you knew them all…
What kind of compliment is that…
Whatever, dude is wack.
“You’re a credit to your race”
To say that to my face,
As if this black skin was mix and match,
And I could somehow make a choice to erase or replace.
I know people today are misguided.
I’m taking ancient wisdom we’ve been provided,
making the vision more than just improvising,
my ways based on the current ways of the world.
They say diamonds and pearls
how you climb in this world.
But I know it’s not true.
I’ve seen righteous impoverished
and the rich with no clue.
From a young age,
knew the balance was off.
Every talent revolved,
around validation from animals surrounding the trough.
Nourishment from a fixed perspective.
Grew up unknowingly misdirected. Confidence only allowed if approved by the next pig. Or the next kid. Or the…
Apology to James Baldwin.
Or the out of context quote
this is involving.
because Americans won’t turn the page
from kids encaged,
racism still here to stay…
It’s room is dirty,
the bed’s not made.
That means I can stay enraged.
I know this country deserves all the scorn.
How do you control how we grow,
then call us a thorn?
Act like we don’t know
you can’t call this reform.
Our system that shoe horns before I am born.
Move a couple pieces around,
say you’ve opened the floor. …
They try to reduce our history to a month…
I can’t believe it.
As if all the things
we’ve been achieving
could be reduced to 28 days…
29 if we’re lucky.
Even when blessed,
“black” people end up with less.
Every other month,
had too many days I guess.
Every four years,
we’re under duress.
Here comes another prez
with promises they never respect.
Take a leap of faith to expect
them to help take this noose off our neck.
Give us platitudes.
Tell us to show gratitude.
For any acknowledgement.
Made the shoes this land walks in, they still…
I wish black history lacked mystery…
That we could trace our family through centuries.
If only our family trees had starker leaves…
Story arcs received,
knowing what my people meant for me.
That it was clear to me
where my family used to be.
And what they used to see.
And what they’d do for me.
I wish these things could be true for me.
it doesn’t take two to see,
our leaves scattered
after our trees battered.
then construed it,
so our existence is sadder.
Their insistence on laughter when we tell them our history…
I give great advice.
But at night,
life turns into a poltergeist.
Tossing and turning,
thinking how to fix the plight
of my existence.
How my back’s caressed by knives.
The betrayal of myself that I engage in.
Wrong portrayal of good health
when I run with expectations.
But that’s how we’re raised up in this nation.
Even when we’re playful,
You better win.
You can’t enjoy the process
if it’s not a means to an end.
Jealousy might make us mean to a friend.
For so many,
this is life’s meaning to them.
Winning based on definitions…
Valentine’s Day is interesting because it can be looked on in a myriad of ways.
Is it a day for love that everyone can benefit from participating in?
Is it a day for capitalist interests to be expressed, showing love through purchasing items?
Is it a day for reflection, looking deeply on what love means to us and how we can better express it?
Okay…. you got me, I know that it’s not the latter. I wish that it was though. Our world needs to have a United Nations meeting that comes out with a universal definition of love that…
A whimsical world
where we spin and twirl.
The pen it hurls,
feelings and fables.
Building a world
where between us we’re able,
to watch our love unfurl.
But I paint personalities in the rosiest hues.
Place people on pedestals,
ignoring the darkness infused.
I don’t think I was ready for,
admitting the parts that I viewed,
weren’t the art of a muse.
More a mark of deluge.
Flooded by feelings that then I misused.
Make you seem more appealing
than the actions you choose.
Acting a fool.
You used words as a tool.
To help me fill in the…
The essence of spirituality is contentment. Know yourself and heal your universe. Kensho- To see one’s nature. Corruption causes justice to appear as insanity.