your brown skin,
how could it ever be –
so beautiful as mine.
your brown words,
how could they ever be –
so perfectly refined.
you’re just an imperfection,
a blemish on society.
you weren’t no slave,
you ain’t no slave,
your people put you there,
how to be brown –
don’t protest with your peace.
don’t want your brownness near me.
keep your brown crime, brown violence
in your broken brown town.
do you speak English?
try acting white sometime.
here’s a tip on
how to be brown.
just don’t be.
**I hope that if you are reading this, you understand that this poem is not meant to insult people who are brown, but as a form of protest against racism.
rise up from the ashes of who you have been.
rise up, i say to you – rise up, rise up again!
let the person you were stay right there –
let it live in the dust of yesterday.
the flames that tried to dwindle you to ash
could never destroy all that you are –
so rise up – lift your bones out of the dirt
present them to the world so white and clean.
never has anyone been so beautiful as you –
you were never so blue as those flames
just a hued aster in some faraway field.
I see you, ready for war
with your gun and your attitude.
I see you there, armed too
with your judicial vigilantism;
your sentence would be swift,
in theory. Painless even.
I am not blind to what you see.
I see the world for what it is;
broken, but beautifully so.
broken, but tragically so.
I hope you never have to see
the aftermath of what I know
you’re capable of. I hope.
So beautiful through the haze
of a gun that’ll never stop smokin’.
Thing is, the thing is,
they were beautiful too.
Broken, but beautifully so.
Broken, but tragically so.