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Submission: D.I.S.U.N.I.T.Y

by Lynzie Glover
written by Lynzie Glover

D.I.S.U.N.I.T.Y

   Black women   

   I am a reflection of you   

   But black woman you have caused me pain like no other   

   Black sister, we are tied by our mother   

   But when I came to you for safety   

   You judged me like a stranger   

   Black woman   

   We are tied by shared space   

   But it’s been a torture chamber   

   Locking up a spirit once filled with joy   

   Yah blessed me with the freedom I’ve been praying for   

   Don’t call home for me   

   I’ve burned the bridge from you to me   

   Black women   

      We’ve torn each other’s skin like a disunioned pack of wolves   

   Why do we crucify?   

   Why do we outcast?   

   Why does my skin hang from your teeth?   

   Why does yours hang from mine?   

   Why do we kick eachother at our weakest while the world watches?   

   While the world kicks along with us?    

By: Lynzie Glover

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Poem: The Veil

by
written by

nommo picThere are times when I am less aware

of what is draped before my closed eyes.

I begin to feel as if

we’re both on the same side.

 

Acceptance is the trick

that has been pulled from the magician’s hat,

and my eyes are mesmerized,

looking left while the real trick happens stage right.

But then I look closer

with critical eyes and I see it

I almost missed it, but now I see

hiding behind the acceptance, it’s judgment.

 

Not the kind I welcome

where my labor is rewarded, my efforts recognized,

but quite the opposite.

I am hindered by this judgment.

Expected to never be quite as good,

to never measure up.

 

And then as if to remind me of its presence

fabric brushes the edge of my nose

cueing my eyes to flit open

and stare at the elaborate pattern

of the veil before my face

and my awareness returns.

 

I can once again clearly see the divide

between me and them,

between us and them.

I can see it in the looks of surprise,

I can hear it in the words they speak.

The subtext booms

and rings eternally in my ears:

“That’s pretty good for a…

Not at the same level as…

Will always be less than…”

 

But I refuse

to view myself that way

to be imprisoned behind this veil.

I will not forget its presence,

I will not forget who placed it there.

 

Instead I use that

knowledge to drive me.

I won’t be “pretty good for a…”

I will simply be good.

I don’t care to be “at the same level as…”

I strive to surpass that level and the one above it.

I won’t view myself as “less than…”

because I am not.

 

Though I’ve been pushed behind the veil

my crystal vision shows me both sides

It will not trap me, it will not bind me

it will not break me.

Because it is my ability to see

that allows me to be free.

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Poem: Darker Than Blue

by
written by

We people, who are darker than blue

The evil man has evil plans to eliminate me and you!

we people, who are darker than blue

the evil man has evil plans to do evil things to us two

Target bright Black women is what they do,

break the connection between you two!

To break the connection between woman and man!

Pay HER more money so SHE wears the pants .

Give her a good job so she can be close to them!

THAT is where THE big problem begins,

eight hours a day and sometimes more

his TRUE desire to make her his whore.

The attemps at seduction never stop!

They use every trick they got,

gifts, concerts, business trips expense accounts, flowers, theater tickets.

Anything that they can do

to keep HER mind off of YOU.

WHAT they do Next is destroy OUR good name.

For our contritions we get no little money no fame.

Media images flashed world wide,

depicting us as barely civilized.

Now that the WORLD has adopted that view,

They feel free to disrespect me and you.

Since money is the power medium,

we can access only the MINIMUM.

He who has the gold, plays by his own rules.

We are kept away from all these tools.

They put all these limits in our lives, causing problems

between men, and potential wives.

Black women make more money than Black men!

They don’t want a man who makes less money than them!

Women are seduced by the material world!

They are trained to shop from the time they are little girls. They are taught to select THEIR men…

Based on the money HE can spend on them!

For the Black man, this causes big problems!

AND

I don’t know if we can solve them!

Since Black women get the best paying jobs,

when it comes to men, they have become Snobs!

When a woman makes more than you do,

they really don’t have time for you.

When they arrive at the work place,

They seldom see a Black male face.

Corporate America is about White men,

all the money and power lies with them!

money and power = respect.

Things that Black men seldom get.

Women  really do not care why

all they want to do is buy.

If you can not pay her bills,

She will find somebody who will.

White men can pick up the tab

just to impress you with what they have.

In that atmosphere… Everyday

Black men kept away,

Corporate life has a profound effect

on the way bright Black women select

What’s a sista gonna do

When it’s time to choose her BOO?

Will she choose one who is darker than BLUE?

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Poem: Alien Spirit

by
written by

 

All the Creator has to do is say be

and it is.

who am I to dispute with you?

But my truth is just as true to me

as yours is to you.

Do you really want to know

what it’s like

to walk the earth in my shoes.

I lived amongst you

who are mostly ignored.

People who just do their job

and have time for littile more .

I am an alien Spirit sent to earth

My purpose to see it for what it’s worth

I was sent to observe

and live with you.

that WAS complicated

and difficult to do.

There are so many problems

tormenting Mother earth

The Creator cannot

allow it to get any worse

earth is not in harmony

with the universe.

It is time to remove

Satan’s curse.

Human beings are controlled

by aritocratic men.

Who are all under the control

of what is known as SATAN

HUMANS are separated

BY COLOR OF SKIN

The level of your melanin

determines where you fit in.

A rhyme circulated

by the most melanated ones

explains the attitude of everyone.

If u WHITE…! u ALLright

if you yellow… u mellow

if you brown… stick around

if u red… u dead

If u black… get way back

The most melanated

are treated worse.

Everywhere you go

on earth

the dark people do not live well

it seems like they are cursed.

I walked among them

with melanted skin.

And I found it quite difficult to fit in…

I was not treated very well at all.

On earth highly melanated humans

always take the fall

It turned out that the problem

was the darkness of my skin.

Dark people are despised

even by those who look like them!

The lighter you are

the better you live

it is really just as simple as that.

There are some exceptions

but in general terms, this is a solid fact..

What a SHAME

The melanated humans

don’t know their proper place.

It seems they have no knowledge

that they are the super race.

White man controls them

like they do their pets.

They seem to be under some sort of spell

that I have not figured out yet.

They are the sleeping giants

of the earth.

But have no idea

of their true worth.

Without them

the house of cards would fall.

their ancestors

were the foundation for it all

There is a disasterous diconnect

between them, and GOD DIRECT.

They have no knowledge of MELANIN

THE CREATORS GIFT TO THEM

RECEPTORS ALL OVER THEIR SKIN

but there no understanding

Whites rule all people of color.

And they divide them all by shade

give them all different religions

whose doctrines are seldom obeyed

The religious groups do not connect

they are split into sects

Then they divide by class…

and each set on different paths.

Worship of God is replaced by money…

Pursuit of things is what consumes… everybody…!

Mass Media Controls their Idle time

and sublimially pollutes their minds.

Satanic influence everywhere.

The irony is

they don’t know it’s there

Human Beings are like lost sheep

and their story does not end

Like BoPEEP

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Poem: Untitled

by
written by

A nation that deals death by drone, jails its own, kills for sport,

and sleeps asses in seats with a spectacle of courtroom reports

can offer no fair retort to innocent lives cut short.

Puppeteers will profiteer from fear the mass media exports

and bloody hands will be wiped clean at beachside resorts.

WAKE  up there’s never justice in kangaroo courts.

the nature of this beast is now impossible to distort.

 

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Sometimes I Cry, Sometimes I Smile

by
written by
photo.PNG

Artist: Ashley Joseph/ Nommo Staff

Sometimes

I cry

And sometimes,

I smile

 

And,

It’s been awhile

Since I’ve cried

But it’d be a lie

If I told you

I never crack a smile

 

And as

the moon rises

the night falls deep

and so do I,

falling uneasily to sleep

settling in dreams

That bring

 visions to my eyes

Forcing me to realize

That I am crying

Dying

Inside of

Emotions unwept

 

Sometimes I cry

 

I am not perfect

I lie and I sin

But in the end

I am worth it

The Lord gives me purpose

To refurbish

My mistakes

Retain everything at stake

God always operates

For my own sake

 

So I smile

 

I am strong

I am weak

I triumph over victory

I handle defeat

I am brought down to my knees

I am lifted as high as the seven seas

 

And all

I have

Are the feelings

That creates the expressions

Which give the meanings

To my overall spiritual being

 

With the intention to love

My mind, body, and soul are

Powered from a God above

 

This is daily living for me

But, still

And endlessly,

sometimes,

I cry,

And sometimes,

I smile

 

 Author: Ashley Joseph

Nommo Staff

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From Her Diary

by
written by
Source: blackmansdiary.com

Source: blackmansdiary.com

We Hurt,

We mask our pain in bed sheets

Wanting to cover the scars

We’ve tried applying make-up to.

We Cry,

Not knowing why

Unattached to the reality of the sickness we have.

So We Weep

Running back and forth around the playground

Only hoping our playmate is ideal-

Like in our imagination.

Yet We Take It,

Loving them more than we love ourselves-

Like we wished someone else could.

But in the end,

We’re left alone with nothing, but ourselves

Not knowing why the bed sheets, the make-up, or the empty love never rid the pain.

 

Author: Christina Anderson

Nommo Contributor

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