Friday, September 29, 2017

A Mindless Act by Esperanza Flores


I sat along the chipped windowsill in my Grandparents kitchen. I sat along the windowsill peering out at the sun set its lips upon the edge of earth. I was not in such mood for mouthing out words to pretend that I was okay. So I shut the luminous reflections out of my eyes for a split minute. And yet I found trouble with the shuffling of another's feet. I could tell it was my Grandfather by the sound of his feet pattering. A heavy scratch sliding his way across the torn floor to me. Tugging out the chair across, he began to babble and reminisce about his 20th century years. Fiddling his dry bare fingers, he started out by speaking about the Steel Mill. Through his exertions he received nothing but racism. 12
As a refugee he was always a castaway in the midst of the working class. It was such a shame to see men who share the same color blood act  inhumane toward another. He could only earn respect if he ,in some magical world, morphed into some white man. Aren’t we all innate people, created by the cycle of life? All the same but different ideologies and color. So what? Do they, you, or anyone need to suck someone else's dignity out of their corpse due to their color?
There is no justified reason for such belligerent behavior. We are not reckless animals savaging around towns to take folks down. In fact we are all are homo sapiens trying to get by in life. So why cause destruction when we are all trying to do the same?

Friday, September 22, 2017

Go Girl! by Kaylia Walker


Look at you girl, with your smile on your face waiting to take on the the world. Yeah look at you girl with your hardworking tail not giving a damn about what a man got to say. Yes! we see you girl or should I say woman, when you walk that tall walk with you swaying your hips, look at you, speaking that calm language with your soothing voice and words of confidence you're all we want to be, can’t you see the way we look when we look at you and see you walk when you walk or when you talk when you talk yeah, you go girl!

Saturday, July 15, 2017

Lady in a Glass Dress by Faith Smith

Meet the lady in the glass dress
Here lies her pain
She waltz inside the darkest room and you can still see her veins
Lady in the glass dress, where do you remain?
Do you realize that your journey is filled with nothing but depression?
Even the oppressed know that this is beyond stretching
And you are stressing

Lady in the glass dress, who are you?
Where lies your truth and what will get into you?
Where will you be?
Who will you become?
It seems to me as if your story will always remain undone
Your start is never your finish
And your end seems to be another beginning

Lady in the glass dress, what lies beyond thy self?
What is your worth?
What can you become?
For that is unknown
You’re lost in the shadows, broken and disturbed
You’ve disappeared while life goes on around you
You’re in despair and sit in your sorrows that are supposed to be around you

Lady in the glass dress, guess what, I am you
You’re apart of me that I just can’t shake loose
You’ve become my weakness, something I see straight through
Against all odds, I still have you
I want you gone because you can’t stay
But even when I try to push you away you still remain my biggest mistake
And my motivation and self esteem as a young woman all gets erased


Thursday, July 13, 2017

A Real King by Kaylia Walker

Maybe my skin is a little too dark for your taste, maybe my hair is a little too big to fit your liking, maybe my crooks and curves isn't in the exact place that pleases you but who are you to judge me? See I am a queen fit for any king no matter race or religion but you, you are not a real king because a real king doesn't judge the young queens of the world based off her physical a real king thinks about her spiritual. A real king doesn't see her race as a problem nor a situation that has to be "fixed" A real king is mindless too the darkness of his queen because a real king knows that what Tupac Skakur said is true that "the blacker the berry the sweeter the juice and the darker the flesh the deeper the roots" so if you're not a real king, what are you?

Tuesday, July 11, 2017

To the Woman Who Got it Wrong by Gabrielle Gousman

Dear Woman,
What is your problem?
Who taught you that your only purpose
Is to please ‘the Man’?
Was it your mother and her mother before her?
Were you brainwashed by society?
Or maybe you learned from all the men in your life.
Dear Woman,
Who told you you only matter when you look ‘attractive’?
That you can only be heard with your clothes off?
That your privates are the best part of you?
Dear Woman,
Who taught you to be seen and not heard?
To shrink into yourself until you’re almost not there at all?
Who taught you not to take up His space too much?
Dear Woman,
Who taught you not to love yourself?
Who taught you not to take solidarity in other women?
That loving another woman, even loving yourself,
Is wrong.
I was taught that He is the problem.
That Man is the enemy and Women are saviors.
I was taught by the women before me.
I was taught Sisterhood,
Self-love,
Love of woman kind.
I was taught the bitterness of a woman to a man.
Dear Woman,
Which one of us got it wrong?


Saturday, June 24, 2017

Trapped by Faith Smith

     Sometimes you never know what you’re up against. Being a girl, a young girl in society, I’m held to a lot of expectations. Straight hair, light skin, slim waist, beautiful face. I drown in the thoughts that trap me from what is on the outside of an individual. I choke on the burdens of being considered a “phenomenal woman.” I am depressed. I tip toe across the edge of the suicide we call society. I’m not considered human. I am not normal. I am not what I’m supposed to be—an American with pride. Instead, I curse myself into the nightmares of being me. I blame myself for being a part of a world that doesn’t need me

Wednesday, May 31, 2017

Dear America by Gabrielle Gousman

Dear America,
Why can’t you hear me? Why can’t you see me? Why is it that every time I speak you seem to think you talk over me? Or ignore me altogether? Do you think I’m not good enough? Or that you’re better than me? Why? You live in a country that was built off the backs of my people. Those pretty southern mansions that you call “family manors” were built by my ancestors. Are you afraid that if you acknowledge my power it’ll lessen your’s? Are you afraid that I’ll take over? Afraid that one day I, a strong black woman, will run this little country of your’s? Is that why you make “colorblind”, so that they won’t acknowledge people of color, people like me? No, that can’t be it. Because, you see, ignore your own kind. Your white men go out and run this country while you leave your women unheard and ignored. But at least they exist, in this country not only am I not heard but I am not real. To be a black woman in America is to be magic, but it also to be the one that no one sees.
From,

A Black Woman In America