My Black skin
matter of fact
My Black Hyde!
thick!
like a
shield
force field
coat
cloaked
chain mill
armor
piercing like an archer
distilled in ardor
with history written within like an author
but art thou, both art and artist?
but I’ve been arsoned
parsed
partitioned
departed
though I sheen like Black diamonds in apartheid
and I may part tides
but still,
I’m seen as ape-parts
torn a-part
born in a-partments
enslaved in com-partments
caged in de-partments
arms raised, to say I’m not armed, until you see arm pits
because me-target
if you wanna see, how deep heart gets
don’t read deepak,
reincarnate of tupac
when you listen to me speak, I heat, then refreeze, thee arctic
I may get views yet viewed, as a beast or the least, to say the least
no figure of speech,
I WAS as a figurine, and they tried to figure me, by trying to figure my speech
yet My speech, can reach thee farthest
and still teach thee smartest
energy in my being, being anything, but lee-thargic!
although I still may be seen as low as thee carpet
how many times will I contort and conform til they see arm twist?
but no more
seeing me as a marred nomad of no matter!
because I,
yes I,
matter!
so I lather
this face,
this real, true, resilient, strong and thorough ‘unpainted’ black face,
in the reality of my Own truth
not historic traumas and modernized ways of saying “I Own you”
Man, in the mirror
no!
Black Man, in the mirror
my vows are
I.Owe.yoU
because you’ve been either alien or alias aligned with ‘all lies’
not allies
deceiving your Own eyes
but you are no more a marred nomad of no matter
because now,
I.Know.You!
Black, isn’t a name for separation
Black, is more than debates of reparations
Black, is more than being politicized with every new administration
Black, once integrated, shouldn’t instigate, instant hatred!
amidst imitations
sullied, by Black face
but this, Black Face, is not pixeled, made up, painted, nor stenciled, but pigmented beauty,
on this
Black Man
Black Master
Black Mosaic
Black Knight
Black King
Black Artist
Black Art
Black Painting
Black Poet
Not
a Black mystery
nor
Black misery
and more than just
Black matter
so Black Man in the mirror,
just remember-
That Black skin,
Your Black hyde
because
Black,
matters!
even when the moment you are born becoming a statistic,
Black matters
even when you’re shaded with stereotypical characteristics,
Black matters
even when parts of your history and past is too hard to revisit,
Black matters
even when you feel like a misfit,
and while being a misfit,
reports say you still fit the description, conviction!
Black matters
even when your name becomes embroidered in digits,
Black matters
you are the only one that needs convincing,
then it will convince them
so never look in the mirror and ask ‘who is it’
because Black man,
you matter!
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