[kosmogrl]

[takecareofyourblessings]

To Some Supposed Brothers

You judge a woman

by the length of her skirt,

by the way she walks,

talks, looks, and acts;

by the color of her skin you judge

and will call her “Bitch!”

“Black bitch!”

if she doesn’t answer your:

“Hey baby, whatcha gonna say

to a man.”

You judge a woman

by the job she holds,

by the number of children she’s had,

by the number of digits on her check,

by the many men she may have lain with

and wonder what jive murphy

you’ll run on her this time.

You tell a woman

every poetic love line

you can think of,

then like the desperate needle

of a strung out junkie

you plunge into her veins,

travel wildly through her blood,

confuse her mind, make her hate,

and be cold to the men to come,

destroying the thread of calm

she held.

You judge a woman

by what she can do for you alone

but there’s no need

for slaves to have slaves.

You judge a woman

by impressions you think you’ve made,

Ask and she gives,

take without asking,

beat on her and she’ll obey,

throw her name up and down the streets

like some loose whistle–

knowing her neighbors will talk.

Her friends will chew her name.

Her family’s blood will run loose

like a broken creek.

And when you’re gone

a woman is left

healing her wounds alone.

But we so-called men,

we so-called brothers

wonder why it’s so hard

to love our women

when we’re about loving them

the way america

loves us.

[takecareofyourblessings]

Song for Rapunzel

his hair

almost touches

his shoulders.

He dreams

og long braids,

ladders,

vines of hair.

He stands

like Rapunzel,

waiting on his balcony

to be rescued

from the fire-breathing

dragons of loneliness.

They breathe

at his hips and thighs

the years soften

as they turn.

How long must he dream

ladders no one climbs?

HE stands like Rapunzel,

growing deaf,

waiting

for a call.

[takecareofyourblessings]

The Occupied Territories

You are not to touch yourself

in any way

or be familiar with ecstasy.

You are not to touch

anyone of your own sex

or outside of your race

then talk about it,

photograph it, write it down

in explicit details, or paint it

red, orange, blue, or dance

in honor of its power, dance

for its beauty, dance

because its yours.

You are not to touch other flesh

without a police permit.

You have no privacy–

the State wants to seize your bed

and sleep with you.

The State wants to control

your sexuality, your birth rate,

your passion.

The message is clear:

your penis, your vagina,

your testicles, your womb,

your anus, your orgasm

these belong to the State. 

You are not allowed to touch yourself

or be familiar with ecstasy.

The erogenous zones are not demilitarized.

[vampyrlig]

BEYONCÉ— Renaissance World Tour Book

Scanned and edited by me

[by3k]

[by3k]

[by3k]

[by3k]

[by3k]

[by3k]

[by3k]

CLICK HERE

[insearchofsunrise-deactivated]

[marxisforbros]

Conversation with a Native Son: Maya Angelou and James Baldwin

[distantvoices]

Clifford Prince King

[distantvoices]

Pyer Moss Open Studio 2 Collection 3 Campaign By Micaiah Carter

[blacklacerabbit]

Jazmine Sullivan for Vulture (NY Magazine)🤎👑