Tag Archives: BLM

If this is how we treat our heroes…

Posted by Zeannaroux on

I wanted to graze my finger tips across a surface roughed by bad intentions

Cut my teeth on twisted lips and indigestion

Was it just my imagination that this blue belonged on me

With a silver prong stylus in my hand, this the freedom I understand

The one that boys painted hues of black and blue while wearing green berets

My body is littered with there words. Their taunts of encouragements

Their disgusted repose

A hero really, for the lack of a better word

Who put such fitness into me I thought I would burn

But here they lie, with stained tongues and strained eyes

Having kissed the encouragement that came at a surprise

My color, my blood, spread quickly in the streets

Fingers one raised on intention now begging for release

Lips clenched in indignation now chewing on my teeth

These boys, so precious, forced to grow up

It is my imagination or did they forget how to trust?

A/N

Thank you dear readers for sticking around through these trying times. I know my angst has gone up a fee notches. So hopefully you can enjoy this one. I would love to see how people interpret it.

Much love from mine to yours

A blacked out sun

Posted by Zeannaroux on

This is a plague,
A harmonious disease that spread. Invaded the deep crusted lungs that once saved.
It is easy, no really, to see how it may have led to this.
How the blacked sun with a burnt out ring lead to people fighting, and dying, and lying,
They did not try, or so we are told, to change the ways that their ancestors taught
But so covered in ash are we
We do not see that we too are diseased
Picking at scraps and scabs that bleed
The ones that turned our lungs to lead and spread
To unknown places that lay us dead
We fight for a time when the moon bleed gold
When the sun fell upon our shoulders on a once forgotten boat
But those times have come to an end. Twisted within the desserts wind
Our ancestors taught us well and well this wound has festered
Growing daily in blackened sun while they sing hymns of battles won.

A movement that stills

Posted by Zeannaroux on

I have been accused of being a follower. Why? Because I decided to share my thoughts on a movement that means to so much to me. Yet they did not believe me when I said this. Told me that I had no place to speak out on such a subject.

It took me awhile to realize that this is because they thought I was white.

See,I am one of those people who has a particular skill. I can “pass” as a different race as long as my face isn’t shown. My name, my voice, my way of writing. All passing in the eyes of society. It is not something that I like to think about but I do acknowledge that I get a sense of pleasure when people first stumble upon what I looked like.

My name is Jessica. Such a mundane and boring name. I hated it as a kid and I hate it even more now. There is no history to this name. No culture related stories I can tell to my friends. No one will look at me and ask me the origin of my name. I hated how unoriginal it was growing up. It didn’t help that people teased me over it, but really, that was a given since nothing is sacred with it comes to bullies. So yea, I hated it and I hate it now. Though less so than I used to.

As a brown skinned Jessica I pass. I am assumed to be not like “them” as though that is something to have pride in. Not like “them” but I am not accepted into any other group. So who I am? It doesn’t matter as much as it used to.

Still, I fight for the culture I was born into. I feel pride in my brown skin in the proper way, whatever that means. But because of my ability to pass I am often faced with those who feel like I have no space to speak in.

This girl told me that I should stick to my own kind yet when I do so i am ridiculed. It isn’t my fault that can’t see who I am really am but once I educate her on that fact I get blocked.

Or I get told to shut up

Or I get called a race traitor

One I was even called an Uncle Tom. Though that one was because I have a biracial daughter.

I am brown. My skin, as my daughter says, the color of the earth we play in. The one that sheltered the plants. Life thrives beneath my skin. I am proud of it and my connection to such a beautiful phenomenon.

And I stand by my people, my culture that I love, and fight for the injustice thrust upon us. I may not be without privilege but I still have my sense of justice. And I will fight till my brown matters in the eyes of the law and the society in which I live in.

Even if people do not believe I am real

Distortion

Posted by Zeannaroux on

Wanna hear what I think?

We are tired of crawling in the mud

Covered in blood of our brethren

Screaming he was just a friend

Just a man who wanted to live

Wanna hear what I’ve been told

We are tired, this shit is getting old

To many of us have left behind corpse

With grieving mothers looking on

Broken daughters, and forgotten sons

We were never given a chance

Knees got torn when we tried to stand

Do you know how this can end?

Give us freedom from oppression

Listen to our whispered lessons

Lead us not to an early grave

And let us walk at an equal pace

Keepsake

Posted by Zeannaroux on

I keep it on my sleeve knowing it will bleed

I think that comforts me, this pain.

When the world is going to hell and people are stuck in themselves

Who would dare to listen to a Brown girls words?

When so many aren’t speaking loud enough

To drown out the voices of the dead

So I hold it to my chest knowing it will die

Because it comforts me, reminds me I’m alive

Healing vibes.

Posted by Zeannaroux on

Share a story that has hurt you.

Something that ripped you to tiny piece and made it as though you didn’t not think you would survive.

Share that story, leave out no details, because I have a feeling this will help you heal.

Realize how much you have conqured.

The painful memories you can’t bear to hold.

Just let them go.

Share me a story if your deepest fear. Tell it all and leave out no details.

We need to see we are not alone.

The Slaver Ring

Posted by Zeannaroux on

See your brown skin amuses me

Brings tears into my eyes

It is cute how you struggle

It is cute how you try

Think the dirt can wash off

Think there is purity in your blood

To bad you will never came away from it

You will never be one of us

There is savage in your bloodline

A disease that can’t be cured

One of those disgusting creatures

That likes to pretend they are misunderstood

See your brown skin amuses me

Brings a smile to my face

It is cute how you think you are human

It is cute how you think you are safe

We will never allow you to wonder

Never allow you to be free

Your just another worthless mongrel

That just so happens to entertain me

A/N I hate the way this ends. I feel like there is more to say but for right now I will leave it be.

Skin I’m in 2

Posted by Zeannaroux on

Dirty little white girl

All you believe of me

Dirty little white girl

Swinging from the trees

Nothing but a liar

Nothing but a fake

Nothing but a moldy little bitch that you can’t wait to break

Call me all these names

Label me as you feel

I’m just a dirty little white girl

Cause my brown doesn’t matter here

Send me to the front

Fight your battles when I’m worthy

But once it’s done

Send me home and tell them that I was worthless

Waste your time and mine

Make me feel like I am not right

Confused 

Deranged 

Disgusting

Just a dirty little white girl worth nothing

My suffering is all my fault

I laid with master you see

But master doesn’t love me

Just left me to bleed

Stupid trash no one attempted to grieve

Dirty little white girl floating to and fro

Where do you belong little girl?

Cause I don’t rightly know

 Your brown doesn’t matter here

You are not like the others

One of a kind

Pretend to be one of those brown fellows

But that’s not who you are inside

How did you get so lucky

Speech so pretty 

Face so greedy

Sit here little white girl

And let me show the world how I love to help those who are needy
Just a dirty little white girl

That’s all you see

A dirty little white girl

Swinging from the trees

My brown doesn’t matter here

Cause it’s not what you believe

So I must he a dirty little white girl

That no one bothered to grieve.