Monday, May 7, 2007

Poetry Corner/ Trapped by A. Dacosta Brathway

Mandingo, slave dick like no other,
Circumcised 9 inch, tripod brother
Ignored the sister for the other…
Danced on the grave of your dead mother.

Confirmed black skin does not think brown,
Spouting lyrics so as not to be clowned,
Wearing that constant, perpetual frown,
Standing straight but trying to get down.

Bullshit artist running a con,
White vagina w/ pubic hair blond,
“I’m going in!” with jimmy cap on,
No DNA trace, my word is bond.

I realize I’ve sealed my fate,
My lines rehearsed to clean my slate,
When I get to the “Pearly Gate”
I hope that I don’t burn in Hate!

I am trapped in my dead skin,
I’ve shunned my race, embarrassed my kin,
I no not what a mess I’m in,
I wish that I were born again…

(c) A. Dacosta Brathway 2002

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