Hair raising issues

OH SHIT !!!
"I CAN'T GO OUT LIKE THIS MY ROOTS ARE SHOWING"
I remember the day of that comment and how
this young lady had spoken so metaphorically ignorant
"MY ROOTS, MY ROOTS, I CAN'T LET HIM SEE
ME ON A BAD HAIR DAY, I NEED A PERM!!!
And though perm stands for permanent it can only be temporary,
Amazing isn't it? How complex it can become
the roots on our hair is connected to our skin
and our skin tells a tale of where we have been
So those roots, those roots
some how or the other I really do wonder if you my black sisters
are afraid of your roots
my opinion or the truth?
and in our lives we try so hard to disguise who we are and where we're from
if there's some way...... would you want your genetic make up to be African?
so I question where is your identity
chastising those who hair is nappy
or on weekends to the hairdresser, religiously fervently scraping and
clawing every penny.
Hm.......Is that an Identity?


if you all think this harsh take a good look. google images on beautiful woman and see if their is any other concept of beauty than a blond or burnette.

Thirty, forty, fifty
The price rises as we dip our head in shame
Sixty, seventy, eighty.
The more the price increases the more reason
to erase the memory of where we came.
Ninety, one hundred, one ten,
“Good Lord, the price of a Niggress has risen again?
I paid money for this female nigga, not that nigga, the one over there”
As the auctioneer summons for the nigga I look to my mother in fear,
Because that female nigga over there is the one standing right here.
One fifty, two hundred, three.
My eyes frantically relentlessly search for that escape route to be free.
Three hundred, four hundred, five
The time has arrived where my people find comfort in suicide
rather than staying alive.
But the price for me has been paid
And the destiny for me has been laid.
Upon a capture then to a journey known to many as the middle passage
I hope this young black generation is getting the message.
A message that I wish I could easily tell
About how great our empires were and how brutal it fell.
Up until the last four hundred years most of us lived an unthinkable hell
DAMN It !!! Have you paid attention?
Shown respect for the dead, honor those who had to suffer?
Open a Blasted book, read and understand that issues of our people
is NOT a closed chapter.
So now I wonder, through the eyes of that young black fore father
Who had to watch his mother be prodded and molested
I wonder if he could see years ahead, see where his seeds have landed
I wonder if at the sight young black sistas shaking their asses virtually naked
Brothers killings each other over nothing, I wonder if he’d be disgusted?
Or would he, be like me, and jus keep shouting, for change again and again.
Questioning their thought process with the use of a pen
Praying, hoping that the change he wants can only happen
Only if he is willing to fight for, bleed for, and possibly die for,
Just to put this shit to an end.
An end to hate, and end to lies and deceit,
And to the condemnation of black people
An end to broken promise we failed to keep
Promises that we should honor ourselves and our brothas and sistas,
Unite and finally start loving each other.

what do you owe me?
my culture ?
my history?
should I rebuke my process hair
and embrace my African name and my dashiki?
who am I
am I a negro?
NIGGA
Black
or "African American"
or are niggers or niggas the same
or am I paranoid, caught in perpetual.
racism, male chauvinism, ego-centrism
Who are you to call me third world
when you rape my sisters
ravage my gold, my land
then confine me to a metropolitan reservation
who are you to criticize
the way I talk
the way I dress
because of this what does it make me
more human or Less?

Being Black

I love being Black, I love the color black
I love the shade of my skin
I love the fact that I am religiously & scientifically man's origin.
I love the history that tells about me
The joy and the pain, the grandeur and our shame
Because loving who we are breaks past the good
And the other part that's left in the dark.
I love the essence of black culture in every nation
I love that we faced oppression, we faced incarceration,
We faced a systematic annihilation.
But yet we rose above the storm
And many have tried to keep ones like me I in the dark
About who we really were and where we really came
But they never ever knew my royalty bares no shame
And my love for each and every human being carries no disdain
Could never be burdened by anguish and pain.
And our innate gift of a genius which was given to us
Through the century by Mathematicians, philosophers,
and artist that were dexterous,
have tried to be suppressed and hidden
except our light shines brighter than any spectra known to human's eyes
it is the everyday quest of being black to seek ourselves and liberate our minds
which brings me to my mantra that know
many non-blacks take offense to and despise.
I love Being Black, I love the color Black.
GOD MADE ME BLACK AND THERE'S NOTHING I LACK

As I look at my watch I anxiously wait on the moment we meet Can't hold my emotions in keep I try to check myself,
my brain is in unrest I need to undress,
these raw materials/blurs I call thoughts
These random suggestion moving at astronomical proportions Suggestions that impregnate my brain
That gives life to my pen
As I nurture a seed of destruction that is destined
To annihilate racism, And baptize those who thoughts Allow them to fall victim to this way of living All with the use of a pen
All will succumb as I engage these super powers in this ring Where there aren't any rules of engagement
With reparations in one hand and truth in other
Love peace and harmony takes a back seat
so that my pen never skips a beat, when I see millions
Of our brothers and sisters dying to H.I.V.
And many who can't even think of being in our shoes
Could never understand colonialism and slavery even if they choose
Here in our reality we still below the depths of poverty
Scratching and clawing to get on the G8's good side
When eleven years ago they all stood and observed
The horrors of genocide. But shit like this should never surprise you
Seven of the eight plundered, pillaged, raped us of our resources
And left a shell of what they use to call the richest continent
Which I do call my unseen home since home is where the heart lay
So don't be upset if I talk about all this terrorist attacks today as being payday
Payment in full plus interest, because if I am not mistaken this country
Did nothing to the 1st terrorist group, did nothing to stop the K.K.K.
And what so fucked up these countries act like they don't want to reveal
Past secrets they've kept, except God hasn't slept
And he always says vengeance is mine
So he took my fire and gave me a desire to inspire
Others to write, to antagonize, to instigate, to activate
The power that lay inside their souls to unfold, love,
Knowledge of self, so when we speak it won't as the movement
That everyone placed on that broken down shelf.
The power to take up arms in the form of our minds
As we redefine the guns and landmines, Putting down guns rifles and mortars
And begin this assault with your pen as you conjure metaphors
Pillaging the minds of the ignorant, With thoughts that cause a kinetic in the stagnant
ALL with the use of a pen, that cuts through the misconception of my Skin
The revolution in me begins.

time's vengence

I saw, she saw, but we can't see
our lives ever changing interlocking
marinating into each others arms
as we kiss
For the first time and hopefully not
the last. so I wish that even though
we barely had any thing in common
this physical rapture that unfolded would carry
me through this time of solitude,
this time where being an immigrant
in this cold world alone I wont condone. (02/21/03)