black-poet

Dark girl is only dark because she braved the sun while others spent their entire existence hiding from it. Her pigment is a testament to her bravery, her darkness a reminder of her strength. She braved the sun while you ran away. She is extraordinary.
—  “Dark Girls Are Extraordinary”
—LoveKeys
Being black

Being black ain’t easy you have to fight everyday.
Fight to survive
Fight to keep your respect
Fight to get where you want to be.
You have to work extra hard to get what you want.
This is the price you have to pay to be black.
Blessed enough to be black.
What is the point of leaving if we get everything easy.
That is what make us beautiful creature.
Nothing is easy and everything is possible.
They make it hard for us to survive
We make it easy to live.
Smile on our face
Creative mind
Beautiful creature
Strong soul
Demand respect
Fear God.
This is who we are.

I knew a long time ago
that diamond rings weren’t meant for me
that there would never be roses on my doorstep
or love notes tucked under my pillow

It’s nice and warm in the movies
with glittering dresses and candlelight
with dramatic kisses in the rain
and breathless sighs of “finally”

But this isn’t the great American romance
This is you at my doorstep
Unannounced and not the slightest bit sober
This is me with no visitors in my hospital room
And making excuses for you when the nurse asks
This is you starting a fire to keep yourself warm
With no intention of tending to it
So it withers to a choked ember in the storm
Or it rages out of control
Consuming villages and forests and mountainsides

This is a bed I have made myself
So I won’t complain that it’s cold and empty most nights
That your side is gray with the ghost of you
While you are out
Burning bright
Elsewhere

I’m just the place you go when
you’re lost and need directions
on your way anywhere else but here

©- one hundred stories down 2015

Black Love Chronicles #2

#Blackout is such a beautiful thing but I have another suggestion…let’s have #Black(IN)

Let’s (IN)vest in our communities, neighborhoods and schools. Let’s (IN)vest in supporting black businesses. Let’s (IN)vest in teaching and educating one another. Let’s (IN)vest in rebuilding the Black family structure, let’s (IN)vest in, economics, Let’s (IN)vest in keeps our brothers and sisters out of the prison systems. We have to realize the power of the Universal God and take heed to the power of change. Just as fast as we can share selfies, beautiful smiles and exchange positive replies, we can use that same energy to promote the nanifestation on of our unity for the greater good! Our light will never dim, our pride roars with passion and our time is coming for ultimate togetherness.

Peace

Laments for the English-Speaking Latina

    Is english your first language?
My only language.
     Where are you from?
Here.

I get all the questions
And have none of the culture.
All of the accent,
And none of the language.
I am the Nuyorican, Dominican York,
Native born, Brooklyn.
The Hyper-Americanized Latina 
The Hyper-Pigmented American 
Who can’t talk in her “native tongue”
But still wears her skin brown
And her hair in curls.
I belong to everyone and no one,
Which is the very worst way
To be alone.
I belong to no where.
The one they laugh at when
She tries to speak
And words get tangled on the tongue,
In Spanish,
And English, sometimes too.
Do I pronounce the “h” in this?
I can never remember.
La Gringa.
La Americana.
The one who’s not enough
In any language, 
In any color.
Too white at home.
Too brown everywhere else.
I belong to no one.
I belong to no where.

-Daniella De Jesús

2

Sam Greenlee, Novelist And Author Of ‘The Spook Who Sat By The Door’ Dies In Chicago

Poet and novelist Sam Greenlee has died in Chicago at the age of 83.

Greenlee was best known for his 1969 novel “The Spook Who Sat by the Door,” later adapted into a political drama movie. Close friend and cast member in the movie, Pemon Rami, says Greenlee died early Monday.

Greenlee was one of the first African Americans to join the U.S. foreign service. From 1957-1965, he worked for the U.S. Information Agency, serving in Iraq, Pakistan, Indonesia and Greece.

“The Spook Who Sat by the Door” tells the story of a black CIA agent who becomes a revolutionary training young Chicago blacks for a violent rebellion. His other works include “Baghdad Blues,” in which he describes witnessing the 1958 revolution that brought down Iraq’s British-backed monarchy.

Images: Times Union, Nov. 8, 1973, Chicago

Dre & Sidney kinda love
Nina and Darius kinda love
Cliff and Claire kinda love
Max and Kyle kinda love.
Whitley and Dwayne kinda love.
Not a perfect love,
just a love that compliments itself.
That “I love you unconditionally
like God loves me” kinda love.
That Sun and Moon kinda love.
That “Let’s take a
leap of faith” kinda love.
Love is…beautiful.
Though I’m bitter on the subject…
I do know what the power
of love is capable of.
Love:
either the deadliest anesthetic
or the purest aphrodisiac.
—  Social Media Rant, Amarii Davu
the situation

she says she cries over me on the train to and from work

and one day it will be better but it isn’t better now.

she is just like my mother, but alive.

knows how to love

quietly, completely.

something about the way black women hold your heart

you can leave them all you like but you cant stay gone.

I want to
penetrate
your thoughts
in the same way that you
cum
through mine,
multiple times,
like repeated orgasms, and I
climax
at each word
left by your tongue
and dripped from your lips
You leave chills that travel
through my mind,
cerebral stimulation
mental
penetration,
Blood rushing
to the head,
You have me
erect,
Mind
spread
wide
open.
—  Dean Steed, “Mind Spread Wide Open”

Our black women have
intelligence
hope
dreams
and freedom
in their bones
and their bones
are rope strong.

Their bones
the same bones that grew tough
and vine firm
underneath the same moon
that inked Gwendolyn’s pen
that ignited Assata’s activism
that lit Tubman’s path.

Their wisdom
our black women
and their resilience
goes uncontested
one shift in position
or raise of the fist
or nod of the head
is an exodus
a great migration
and for black men to not follow suit
to trust in their leaders
their warriors
we have forgotten the road that leads us home.

Brothers we
must not fight with but for our black women
we must not make jokes and laugh at but with our black women
we must not live and struggle separately from but with our black women.

Brothers we
must help deconstruct their role
and stereotype in society
and support them in shifting
and recreating the black woman experience.

Brothers we
must become advocates
alongside them
of change
of hope
of love
of faith
of support.

Brothers we
must join the battlefield
alongside our black women
as they fight the war that has been waged
on black womanhood
sexuality
and gender.

It is very important that we dismantle
the history of the dehumanizing
of our black women.

For if we speak of their breasts and their buttocks
let it be in consent and in praise
hold their figures next to a flower
or against the horizon of the ocean
and recognize that what we are holding
is a blessing from God.

Our black women have shown up for us
in the midst of our darkest days throughout history
but rarely have we shown up for them
many of us remain sleep
or turn our heads to the sun
while our black girls and women crawl
defeated
underneath the darkness that has become this world.

Brothers
we must wake up
we must wake up
we must wake up
we must go courageously into the darkness
but before we can do any of this for our black women
we must want to love
support
and encourage
our black women;
we must want to seek to understand
the misogyny
sexism
and hatred
that they receive;
we must want better
and more
for our black women.

Brothers
we must to wake up.

—  Brothers, We Must Wake Up, J. Harris