so...what ya tellin me, right now,
is that i'm catching flack because i'm black?
because my hair curls a bit more than yours?
& because i live at the wrong address?
ya tellin me that despite my college degree,
my eloquence,
& my professional dress,
the fact that i am damn near perfect for this job
& all the criteria the criteria i've met
you've looked past all that
& straight at my skin color.
stereotyping
whe i've risen above every stereotype you can thow my way:
i can read
& i have a high school diploma
NOT a GED: i didn't drop out, i stuck it out and graduate at the top of my class
but still you've looked past
the fact that i've attended institutions of tertiary education
here & abroad
& i've chosen to come back home to find a job
but yet you refuse to give me one
because my hair's locked and you're looking upon me with dread
but still i am unable to wrap my head around this
because, right now, ya tellin me that i can't have this job because of your close-mindedness
& inability to look past what you see on the outside of me
because if you cut my palm, i'll bled erd
& if you sliced me open, you'll see a heart that beats the same as yours
a brain that thinks, but not like yours
because i have the ability to look at you and refrain from judging or stereotyping
but you're making it hard for me not to
because you're telling me that i can't have this job because of my outward appearance
& ya tellin me that another person of my race can't work here
because her hips are too thick?
or because his nose is too wide?

forget a job description
just let us know that if we're not blonde haired & blue eyed
we need not apply.

i can't believe that this is what ya telling me...


i'm tired of older generations talking about "back in my day"
well dear sir, ma'am
this is your day no longer
you've thrown it to us the generation you've raised
and you criticize this today
but you forget that you're the ones that brought us up

& you've been grooming us incorrectly, incompletely from jump
we've become a selfish generation
taught not to fight for us, but to live for me
no village has raised this child
& we are ill prepared to run this island
not with what you've given us
with the non-stop criticism, nice cars, big buildings
when will we get past this materialism
& when will you start caring about my generation
& the future that is us?
help us to make it, alter it, change it
because WE ARE IT
but it seems to be of no dire concern to you...

& now we've got Bermudian skyscrapers being built up
& blocking our light as we enter a dark age both mentally and physically
but when will we realize that we are the light at the end of that tunnel?
& we are the window that opens when that door closes?
....seems like never....

so come on guys!! who's with me?! =-D
let's run this island paradise STRAIGHT to hell
we stopped loving it as we should a long time ago...


I return home
And enter my own personal war zone
Where I battle as if I’m in army fatigues daily
F-bombs dropped constantly
My house is far from home
Far from comforting
This is his domain
His region
His kingdom
And I’m just a lowly peasant
Plowing his fields, reliably
And my king?
He rules cruelly
He has no love for me
But claims he does
And shows it with every blow he deals
Verbally
Emotionally
Mentally
Physically

Physically…
Physical blows, physical wounds
The ones that show the most
Hurt the least
Easily covered up
They can be hidden
But the scars inside? They shape me into a broken woman
I can’t hind from me
And I can’t hold off the feeble attempts to justify what I know is wrong
But he loves me…
And these issues we’ll get through…
Right?

Late nights
I muse and contemplate
Plan my escape
After he sleeps
I sit up dear dairying
My only form of release
Because I am trapped here
Thrown underground as he believes I should be
A prisoner of my own personal war
I am subjected to daily torture
Every time I open my eyes
Every time I enter that door
But see I cry visibly no more
All the tears beaten out of me…
I cross the threshold
And here are the words that define me
Call me punching bag
Dumb bitch
And come here you fucking SLUT, ima SPLIT YOUR GODDAMN LIP!
And I become detached
And huddle into the miniscule piece of existence he’s carved and whittled me into
The great big hulking chunk of nothing I’ve come to be
And hope that today he just might kill me
And hope that today is the day he’ll make it all stop
I WISH THAT IT ALL WOULD JUST STOP!
I can make this stop…


Yersinia pestis
The causative agent of the bubonic plague
Also known as the black death
Transmitted by rats
Stowed away on ships
Deadly
A pandemic
But here we have a plague of our own
Of which we are the causative agent
Worse than anything a bacteria can cause
This is another form of black death
Implemented at and progressing from birth
We are already predisposed due to the color of our skin
Normally acquired from exposure and learned behaviours
And without treatment, it only goes from bad to worse
Acute
Chronic
& recurrent
This disease has a pathogenesis unto itself

Signs and symptoms include
Drug slangin, gun bangin
Rootin, tootin bud boys
Ignorance to one’s own blatant ignorance
Thugged out appearances
The birth of fatherless little boys
And baby girls with daddy issues
Fear of authority figures
And frequent appearances under breaking news headlines

This widespread pandemic
Affects many but is limited to few
The infected seem to colonize projects, low budget housing
And populate street corners
Diagnosis requires only a short conversation
Treatment and prevention involve high doses of knowledge, a change in mindset and sometimes all they need is just a reason.