Observations from the Other Side

 

Eyes opened wide
While I make observations from the other side
Black families were destroyed
So white families can flourish
The Black baby mama dehumanized
While white women have the privilege of motherhood
Police patrol our neighborhoods
While whites gentrify our neighborhoods
But God forbid you’re black walking in their neighborhoods
White children have fathers in their homes
While our fathers are jailed, worked to death, and buried
Justice is for whites only
A white rapist gets no time for his crime
While a black brother gets jail time for a dime of weed
White people are encouraged to breed
While Blacks and Browns are encouraged to abort
Being Black Everything is about your race
While being white is colorblind
Ain’t no such thing as being blind to color
When the world is naturally colorful
Only those who are absent of color are blind to the sand drawn war lines
But we’ll wash them up like the shore til their war lines ain’t there no more.

Papers (Poem)

burning paper 02

Let em burn,  let them enjoy their oppression,
Mind be racing, that’s why I dodge smoke sessions.
People think I’m insane
With all this shit in my brain,
Reading lines in my books,
like they lines of cocaine
And I don’t mean to sound rude
But, why college feel like another high school?
Same structure, different professors
Don’t get it twisted,  not saying their job any lesser.
But professor,  profess to me, how this degree, gon help me in life
So I can tell you the circumference of this knife,
In my side while Bill telling me run my pockets, even the inside.
Tell me how this paper supposed to make mills,
When I see people with the same paper who can barely make the bills
Or that student addicted to them pills to get that grade.
Didn’t mean to put you on blast,  but everybody needa hero.
That’s what I was told. College graduates make one more zero.
Please massa!
I mean Fasfa …
I just wanna go to school,
So you can miseducate and sedate me
And make me your tool.
I’ll be disposed of one of two ways:
Use me till my last days or they’ll smoke me like my honey glazed js
Either way they getting paid
Which brings me to life insurance
Paying coins on my life,  when it’s ensured death is inevitable
Yet they making a killing on my people,
We die,  they collect a check, their scam is incredible.
How we praise a green that’s not even edible?
Where does money come from?
Are the numbers really credible?
Or is it made up?
Like paying fifty cent for an extra cup
It’s ridiculous
We teach our children bout“St. Nicholas”
Now they stealing shit, eating other people’s cookies
While the rich leaves crumbs for the bums and say we uncivilized,
When the truth needs to be realized
Who makes a system founded in suicide?
They poison our water,
And the food that we eat
Can’t give money for schools
But they can afford a new fleet
Taking selfies, thinking you cool
Chasing paper like a fool,
Remember the person paying for all this shit
Is You.

 

Reflections

I’ve learned that in the year of self-investment,

You have to try new things,

You have to create new ideas,

You have to dream BIG,

No matter what people tell you what you “should” do

Because it really is about you at the end of the day.

Your destiny and fate is all up to you.

A safe boat never leaves the dock,

And shiiiiiiiit, I sure love adventure,

So I’m gonna sail regardless.

In order for your boat not to sink, you can’t let the water get inside your boat.

Yet, you have to respect and praise the water for carrying you on your journey.

And appreciate the beauty in the sky, the clouds, and the colors of nature.

Understand the depths of your mind—don’t be afraid to embrace the darkness and the unknown,

For there is Beauty in Darkness.

Creation Is Made In Darkness

Like A Baby In A Woman.

It Is Only When It Touches The light That It Begins To Learn The World.

Sometimes, it involves getting rid of the weight you don’t need.

Let it go—you owe it to yourself.

You can say no without feeling guilty,

Even if it hurts deep down inside.

But the truth indeed, hurts.

And being honest is part of investing in yourself.

If I want justice in the world, I have to make justice in my own life.

AM I NEXT?

Short documentary Co Produced by Sage Love and Kelly Snider and Directed By Sage Love is a project in which the discussion of police brutality in America is discussed from the perspective of the black women. The project also pays homage to Alton Sterling Philando Castile and Korryn Gaines.

Sincerely, The Friendly Ass Bitch.

I’m a people person. Always have been, probably always will be. I understand and value human life. I probably value human life more than you do. I enjoy talking to people, listening to their stories, thoughts, and perspectives. I love learning about heritages and culture. And after all, my major did find me. Anthropology that is. No, I don’t study rocks as my father thinks, but I do enjoy studying humans. After all, everybody only cares about money, but money cannot grow in a womb for 9 months, it does not have a heartbeat, it cannot conduct or carry a conversation. Yet, money has more value than human life.

For someone who claims to know me so well, you should know this about me and not have a problem with the fact that I am in fact friendly. That’s what my mother raised me to be. Not some bitter misanthrope, because your mother raised you that way. That’s what they (the powers that be) want you to be. A miserable, unfriendly, close-minded, inexperienced, slither of a human. By Limiting socialization and human contact with technology and money. If that’s who you are, you can keep that. I don’t want any parts of it.

They say, it’s not what you do, but who you know. I would think that someone who knows about networking and human contact, you would understand. But for some reason, it just won’t register in your thick skull. For some reason you equate my friendliness for infidelity or whatever insecurity you may have. Well guess what? Yes, I’m friendly and why would you want to change that about me? And why should I have to? It all boils down to trust, and clearly, you don’t trust me. You think I’m you. Socializing and flirting with others, or lying about my relationship status when that is clearly not the case. I’m a bitch and a hoe for speaking my mind and being friendly.

I can’t help but chuckle at your misogynistic bullshit. You were raised in this system, it isn’t your fault.. or at least it wasn’t but since you met me a year and change ago, I pointed out your misogynist ways and attitudes, in hopes that they would change. But they haven’t. You cannot handle that I am headstrong, dominant, and that I speak my mind; whether you want to hear it or not. You cannot take constructive criticism, even if it is for your benefit, especially if it comes from me, because you feel that a woman’s words don’t hold the same weight. You haven’t directly said it, but your actions and lack of heeding to my advice shows me that. I can tell you some information first or make a suggestion, and you won’t bat an eye, but the minute someone else says it (a man) you hop and skip to it.

I’m a communicator. I enjoy conversation. You know that already. But for some reason, when it comes to communication, you act as if you don’t know what I expect and what I don’t tolerate. I’ve told you plenty of times before, but quite frankly baby, I’m tired of repeating myself. I’m tired of explaining myself to you. I’ve grown weary with exhaustion from your excuses. What is so hard about speaking to me? What’s so hard about calling me and letting me know you were checking on me, or texting me, letting me know you’re thinking about me? Why must you make the most simplest shit, the most difficult. I’m not asking you to send a fucking rocket ship to the moon nigga, I’m asking you to be proactive and communicate. I shouldn’t have to be the one ALWAYS calling and texting you. Why can’t you call or text me? Why do you let so many hours go by without speaking to me? If I don’t hit you up at all, would I even hear from you? I’m tired of the excuses. You have all the time in the world, yet for some reason, you can’t make time for me. I guess I’m not worth your time. Out of sight, out of mind. Put yourself in my shoes for once. Don’t make me give you a dose of your own medicine. We know my middle name is Petty Labelle, and I try my hardest not to be petty, because it would only make things worse.

But, honestly… you’re not making this easy for me. You make me feel as though you’re not working with me, you’re working against me. There’s no excuse as to why I don’t hear from you. I’m not for it. I’m not tolerating the disrespect. Either get it together and be the people person you pretend to be in the street with your peoples, or just do us both a favor and stop wasting my time. If you can’t hold it down and communicate, when you know what I expect, after all this time, then I SERIOUSLY can’t fuck with you. I see it as you being spiteful, and I’m not here for it. Get your shit together or get lost.

Sincerely,

A Friendly Ass Bitch.

A Needle In A Hay Stack

Believing a man can be faithful when you’ve been exposed to cheating men your entire life is like finding a needle in a hay stack.

Can a man REALLY be faithful?
Yeah your words sound nice and all, and as much as I would really like to think that you are actually being monogamous to me,

It’s hard to believe that,
when all you’ve seen were cheating men.

You were not there.
Your eyes did not witness
Your ears didn’t hear.

Plus in society,
there’s such a thing as male privilege.

You can sleep around with your whores and return home to your wife and society says its ok. A woman can’t without being verbally degraded until she is a crumb.

My abuelo (May he rest in peace) was married to my abuela.
They had five children. He had 5×2
They were married young.
She 14, him 18.

My surplus of aunts and uncles was normal to me.
I didn’t mind.

Or the men who had different women in rotation,

or listening to my cousin’s saying sweet shit to a chicks ear.

Yes, I hear you when you tell me you love me and that you’re faithful to me.

But my grandfather said that too,
So did the men in my family,
& I remember my cousins saying that to their girls
and i’m just thinking damn this girl a fool.

I understand that I’m your woman.
BUT please don’t have me looking stupid.

They say these niggas out here for everybody,
well my man isn’t. I’m trusting you every single day.

But I still believe that finding a faithful man is like finding a needle in a haystack.

Dear Hip-Hop

Nas didn’t lie when he said hip-hop was dead..

And now Hip-Hop is killing us.

Hip-Hop died when we started letting other people control our labels, our distribution, and now they control the content.

We let the dollar signs,
Sign away our soul,
On the same lines,
Of losing our creation.

We were uplifting our people,
Through our struggle tales of the streets and rapping about self destruction and unity.

We were fighting the power
And screaming fuck the police,
We were coming together
And we had a message for our youth.

Black women were told they were beautiful.
Black Men stood together..

But now look at this shit y’all call music. This aint hip-hop,
Its self hate music.

Black men rapping about hating Black women

Black men rapping about killing black men

Black men rapping about drugs

Black men rapping about material shit

How did we go from
Mentioning Marcus Garvey
To just mentioning Ferraris?

Hip-Hop is in its death bed with a oxygen tube still puffing on cigarettes.

How can a creation made from a people of love, uplift, unity, honesty and the Black aesthetic become something so negative, hateful, materialistic, and bitter?

Are you going to continue to let our music be exploited, watered down, and shitty or are you going to take action and take our shit back?