KweenButter

Black Queer Poetry for the soul, from the soul. https://www.kofibeen.com/

[kofibeen]

Dear Juanita,

I’m loco for you.

Can’t nobody do me like my little butterflower. Burnie be mad jealous when I talk about you, but you’re my kryptonite. My stress reliever. I just love it when you massage my temples. Make me feel like it’s no one else left on this earth but me and you. We can take over. You can be the magic dragon that breathes its healing fire over the sick and shut in, and I’ll be zigzag man cuz you make my blood pressure go up. But it’s okay. Cuz I luh you girl! I’ma go get a fresh lil haircut for you. Prolly gone look like Jim Jones but grandma Greta said I look good so when I see you… we gone light you up like that good gunja, smoke you like a potlikker, call Mary Jane, and get to juju’in on that beat. And I know that good butt is otw! :) You know how I like it. We gone make luh girl! Just me, you, and Mary Jane. I’ma spread some of that panatella on yo booty and lick it off like ice cream melting down an ice cream cone. I’ma rip that wig off too. Lemme free yo fro! I like yo Milly braids girl, forreal! Release the dragon! Let’s ride the wave all night long and snooze Mr.El Gallo en la mañana. I pray I don’t break yo hemp cuz Juanita, when I see you its O-V-A. My face gone turn redder than an Indian boy. I’ma have to call up my Aunt Mary so we can just tie the knot. You’ll be Mrs.Kryptonie forever and ever. <3 <3 <3

Sincerely,

Reefer Chiefer Smokapotomus

P.s. Don’t forget yo can of bliss!

An original poem written by JéLyn

[kofibeen]

Pussy rules the world 🌍😻 https://www.instagram.com/p/CPZLTjSBdO3wIQTBEULMtmqKaHhOW-4Hzv8sgA0/?utm_medium=tumblr

[magic-melaninn]

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[kofibeen]

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[rhsin]

[urbanafricanna]

Most definitely

[kofibeen]

Who said bras was a law?

Who said I can’t let them be free and raw?

Why can’t I let them hang?

Do they disgust you when they sway and swang

My body was crafted without mistakes

I was not born with lifted boobs and a fat ass

I was born nakedly innocent,

That is until you started sexualizing me.

That is until you started objectifying me.

I was innocent until you started comparing me to the women you fantasize about.

I was innocent until you started turning me into the woman you fantasize about.

Someone who I never wanted to be.

I was innocent until you started remembering the women you fucked over.

I became her.

And her.

And her.

And her.

And her...

Someone who I tried not to be.

But I am me.

I was born with an ass just like you.

I was born with nipples just like you.

I was born with genitalia

Just like you.

My body is not your fantasy.

I am reality.

I am real.

When I was a little girl, you treated me like a baby doll.

Picking apart each garment as a statement piece.

Yet, I’m no plastic.

No leggings. Too tight.

No pencil skirt.

Too short & tight.

No sleeves? Too much shoulder.

No ripped jeans. Too much thigh.

No v necks. Too much cleavage.

No shorts. Too much ankle.

You know what? Let’s just put you in uniforms

So you all will look the same and

We’ll be less likely to drool over you ladies.

You are not my bodyguard.

And you will not police my temple.

I was born like this.

If I wanna be a topless whore

This is my body.

If I wanna be a turtle neck nun

This is my body.

If I wanna be a naked dancer.

This is my body.

If I wanna be a gentle school teacher.

This is my body.

Focus less on the outside

And figure out what’s going on up top.

And If it’s my top,

Then you’re the fucking problem.

Respect goes a million miles an hour.

I am fine china.

Not your action figure.

“I am what I say I am.”

~An original poem by myself.

[kofibeen]

I define myself on my own terms. My black is the pioneer for all the wanna-bees appropriating just to get by. My black is uniquely bred from the blue and red. Blue bruises and red blood shed. My black is back in style like it never left. My black created style. My black created curves, and the desire to tan until well-done. My black shakes the skins of the un-colored creating earthquakes and tsunamis. And they don’t know what to do. My black doesn’t submit to oppression. My black is the blueprint.

An original poem by KweenButter

#blacklivesmatter #blackartistsmatter #blackgirlmagic #myblackpavedtheway

[90shiphopraprnb]

[kofibeen]

A daily reminder:

Fear is an illusion.

Anything that might be making you doubt yourself and your abilities...

anything that has you limiting yourself,

it’s all in your head.

You’re literally creating it with your imagination.

If you want something, go get it.

Take no for an answer only when you’re harming someone.

Be afraid of no one,

because you are a god.

Put yourself on that pedestal. 🔑

[kofibeen]

I am forever undone until this fleshly body takes its last breath; perfection is a lifelong reach, so everyday I strive to be greater than yesterday. The sky is no longer the limit.

[kofibeen]

“Sankofa”

The roots I was born into are

Strong.

Durable.

Everlasting.

The remembrance of their

pain and suffering

Tears & tears

Stripes and bruises

Makes me sagacious.

Makes me careful yet fervent

To keep calm and carry on

The legacy they planted into this earth.

Forcibly relocated to a mysterious land.

A foreign land;

amerikkka: the land of the “free”

The land of:

religious hypocrisy

white privilege

Mass incarceration of black people

And the trump administration

Yet my roots paved the way

With anger and determination

My roots fought for life

Death

And knowledge

For knowledge is power.

And power is knowing that the past

Is the key to reconstructing the future.

And the future is in the hands of

Fury and determination.

Determination to free their minds from the tick

That attached itself to our sanity.

The roots saved me.

They attached themselves to my heartstrings

And grew from the dirt.

They grew through the earth’s ceiling

And broke the atmosphere.

The roots connected themselves to The Rock

And drunk from the living water

Which created mutants.

Ultimate beings

Superhumans.

Loved and envied.

Yet sold to the highest bidder.

My roots lended me the instructions

To greatness and soul food

Tatted on the edge of the earth.

Love is the key.

An original poem written by kweenbutter.

We must go back and reclaim our past so we can move forward, and understand why and how we came to be who we are today. We must do this, to make the change we need. #returnandgetit

[kofibeen]

“Sankofa” an original poem by myself.

[kofibeen]

“Darkskin”

The crispy Goddess

Homozygous

Layered with sugar,

Spice,

And everything nice.

Not easily broken or bleached.

Representative of the motherland.

Hated

And Envied.

Coated with God’s ultimate protection

From the star that grants the land

with goodness and new beginnings;

Yet shines from within.

Melanin

Kissed by the lotus of the sky

Untainted

Unmovable

Legally Royal

As she was born with a crown of curls

embedded in her scalp

Wild

Free

Unintended to be tamed.

Because her creator promised her enemies

Would bow down at her feet;

Yet she’s underestimated due to shrinkage.

She defies gravity…

Her cinnamon eyes

Were too spicy for her own good.

They live for the kick.

They live for that bronze medal.

That’s home.

We’re safe.

Those curves?

No breaks.

Real lips.

No fillers.

Real hips.

No jitters.

And when she coming around them curves

Look back at it like it’s in reverse.

Thick thighs

Thin patience

And the thin line between make it or break it.

She is sweet tea some days;

Southern and likeable.

Hennessy and coke on the others

When hennything is possible.

Conditioned to “pretty for a dark skin girl”

And aware of all the limitations that comes along

With that statement.

Have her wishing somehow she could be lighter.

But the sweetness comes from the ripest fruit.

The blacker the berry..

The sweeter the juice.

An original poem by myself.

[kofibeen]

“Darkskin” an original poem written by myself.

[kofibeen]

She was water

Unthinkably giving herself away

Reviving the dead within

Quenching the thirst of lost souls

Waiting to be found

She gave and she gave

And no one refilled her.

No one poured into her

So she became ice

Hardened by a cold world

Her heart froze

To save itself from leaking out

She became her own savior

And took over the game

As she grew stronger

And harder

Her clock stopped ticking

This brick world froze her to death

And crushed her solid heart

So her soul fled

The fire desired her

As she was born again from the ashes

Rising like the Phoenix

Naked in passion

Strength & dynamics

She finds strength in her burns

Yet she goes without a singe

She was the fire

That made her beautiful

She was the sword

She was looking for

The sun inhabited her eyes

As it burned deep inside her

Making her the light of the world

And the hell all in one.

“Fire and Ice”

An original poem by KweenButter.

[kofibeen]

There’s no such thing as a “happy ending”

No Prince Charming

No fairy godmother to grant all your wishes

And turn rats into decent people

No magic slipper lost and found

And returned to its rightful owner

No reincarnating kiss

No love potion

No way to reverse reality

Because in reality

The end is inevitable

But happiness is a privilege.

If only everyone who had an ending

Reached complete bliss,

Then nightmares would be full of

Our souls embracing the departure from these vessels

Hell would be the home of

Unicorns and chocolate rivers

And heaven would harvest sinners because sins are inevitable

And there is no such thing as darkness

Yet homeless vets live under bridges

And their is an elite pedophile ring running Amerikkka...

My ancestors were killed for their birth right

And their murderers confess of their

cowardice and inhumanity

on their death bed.

Happy endings don’t exist

But when the wave comes

Shoot the curl until it takes you away.

“No happy Endings”

An original poem by KweenButter

[kofibeen]

Dear Juanita,

I’m loco for you.

Can’t nobody do me like my little butterflower. Burnie be mad jealous when I talk about you, but you’re my kryptonite. My stress reliever. I just love it when you massage my temples. Make me feel like it’s no one else left on this earth but me and you. We can take over. You can be the magic dragon that breathes its healing fire over the sick and shut in, and I’ll be zigzag man cuz you make my blood pressure go up. But it’s okay. Cuz I luh you girl! I’ma go get a fresh lil haircut for you. Prolly gone look like Jim Jones but grandma Greta said I look good so when I see you… we gone light you up like that good gunja, smoke you like a potlikker, call Mary Jane, and get to juju’in on that beat. And I know that good butt is otw! :) You know how I like it. We gone make luh girl! Just me, you, and Mary Jane. I’ma spread some of that panatella on yo booty and lick it off like ice cream melting down an ice cream cone. I’ma rip that wig off too. Lemme free yo fro! I like yo Milly braids girl, forreal! Release the dragon! Let’s ride the wave all night long and snooze Mr.El Gallo en la mañana. I pray I don’t break yo hemp cuz Juanita, when I see you its O-V-A. My face gone turn redder than an Indian boy. I’ma have to call up my Aunt Mary so we can just tie the knot. You’ll be Mrs.Kryptonie forever and ever. <3 <3 <3

Sincerely,

Reefer Chiefer Smokapotomus

P.s. Don’t forget yo can of bliss!

An original poem written by JéLyn

[kofibeen]

[kofibeen]

There’s no such thing as a “happy ending”

No Prince Charming

No fairy godmother to grant all your wishes

And turn rats into decent people

No magic slipper lost and found

And returned to its rightful owner

No reincarnating kiss

No love potion

No way to reverse reality

Because in reality

The end is inevitable

But happiness is a privilege.

If only everyone who had an ending

Reached complete bliss,

Then nightmares would be full of

Our souls embracing the departure from these vessels

Hell would be the home of

Unicorns and chocolate rivers

And heaven would harvest sinners because sins are inevitable

And there is no such thing as darkness

Yet homeless vets live under bridges

And their is an elite pedophile ring running Amerikkka...

My ancestors were killed for their birth right

And their murderers confess of their

cowardice and inhumanity

on their death bed.

Happy endings don’t exist

But when the wave comes

Shoot the curl until it takes you away.

“No happy Endings”

An original poem by KweenButter

[concrete-flower-deactivated2023]

I keep mentally chasing your essence,

Trying to remember how delicate your smell is,

And how gentle your lips are every time you press them against mine and every other part of me,

The comfort I feel laying my head between your thighs,

Hoping I will never have to give that up,

Wanting to be buried in your sanctuary again,

A sanctity that has become mine.

You've marked some part of me I can no longer find.

Needing to detach from you but I'm feigning,

Still trying to remember the feeling,

Of your skin leaking between my fingers,

When I grasp on to you,

Hoping to grasp your mind,

The urge I have to be submerged in your canvas and create my own masterpiece,

So you'll never have to leave,

To make you a part of me,

I want to remember the taste of your tongue to quench my thirst,

The comforting warmth of our fingers intertwined,

Us being everything we deserve,

And I wonder why,

Why I must hold back wanting to be your other half,

Either too soon or too fast,

There's some indication that you and I can make this last.

I look at the stars and am reminded of the spark you've brought to my recent gloom,

In reference to this odd connection I've always felt with the moon,

Which at times only shines in part so I may not be much without you,

Much like my smile which doesn't appear without you,

Or my hope for love which wouldn't be here without you.

I can't stop mentally chasing your essence,

Because I want to feel what I remember,

So I won't have to remember how it feels without you.

C.N.B. • STARGAZING

[micdotcom]

Watch: Poet Porsha Olayiwola heartbreakingly reminds us all that black women’s lives matter too. 

[russula-nongrata]

“Men and boys are seen as the primary target of racial injustice,” AAPF associate director Rachel Gilmer told TakePart in May. “This has led to the idea that women and girls of color are not doing as bad, or that we’re not at risk at all.”

But studies show otherwise: Black women are killed and sexually assaulted by the police, and incarcerated at almost three times the rate of their white female counterparts. Yet news coverage of these cases are focused largely on the relationship between law enforcement and black men.

From the linked article above. None of this diminishes the importance of any Black Lives Matter protests or the lives of black men.