Black Palatte - by Meesh (completed 5/5/14)

Hello everyone. I believe this is my “deepest/most personal” poem to date. It’s one of my favorites. Enjoy!

When I come around, I pretend I don’t hear the sounds

Or see the looks of general curiosity

Parts of me want to shout and say

"I know who I am, and that’s okay"

But it’s not… because I don’t

Growing up, I claimed my Cherokee heritage

Even though there is no substantial proof

I was also told I could be German

And yeah, Cuban too

Possibly Jamaican,  due to daddy’s locks that were shaking

And my height that came to match

Early on I didn’t catch

The pain my mother would hatch

When she’d mention her dark complexion

Compared to my dad, so she became sad

I didn’t understand, what I am or where I be

It was hard to perceive  the general  complexity

Of race, class, gender, and creed

Dark skin vs light skin-did was always the talk

Dark skins can’t get a job, light skins selfied while they walked

Light skins won’t call back but dark skins would be accused of attack

Why can’t we just all be considered BLACK?

Why do we separate, even if the palette of our families don’t match?

Yeah, technically we aren’t BLACK, but you know what I mean

Since African American is a term that most of us feel demeans

Our actual “place” in this world not full of grace… 

it’s a disgrace we can’t be embraced

Equally unequal is the status of the hood

Because where justice stood,  people were behaving like they outta not be good

You know how the children’s story goes, people killing, money woes

Black on black crime, because we can’t make up our minds

I know the media blows this all out of proportion

We’re not all bad, and we don’t just need coercion

We need our mothers and fathers, or grannies and uncles

We need to love ourselves first, to get out of this curse

And just because I’m black, doesn’t mean I’m a “nigga”

I’m not ignorant, low, or beneath you, and your 6 figures

And in my headphones I bop to not just Hip Hop

I love bachata, classical, and rock,

who knew?

My first musical loves:

Led Zeppelin

And The Legendary Roots crew

The color of my skin is not an accurate representation of my musical choices

It does not equate to the  way my vernacular swirls and swings and the way my flow rejoices

And I’m proud to say I know where I come from

I took a little test on Ancestry.com

I’m 3/4 West African… Togo, Cameroon, and Senegal

Admixed like the rest of America and beyond

Unlike my brothas and sistas who just know they’re descendants from slaves

I can say I’ve paid my way to understanding where I may have come from that day

It’s a privilege for a black person to find these things out

But whites are born and bred to speak aloud how they came about

I’ve never met someone who looks like me, 

to say I can trace my family history

Although both sides of family say “we came from down south”

That wasn’t good enough for me, so I took it upon myself to erase the doubt

What am I? Who am I? Where in Africa has my family been?

Were they from Ghana, Mali, Benin?

Where else did they breed? Great Britain, Ireland, are they Portuguese?

Turns out all of these, my bloodline did trace back for me

I remain Black and proud, no matter what is in my blood

And know some doubters won’t understand, it’s all good

This wasn’t for you, nor the benefit of the black race

Not for the people who’ve spit in my face

Neglecting the fact I can overcome

The fact that I can, I will, I’ve won

Someday I’ll meet the people of these places

So I can get a good look at my traces

And start a movement to get us all involved

In discovering our roots, no perming at all. 

Tuesday - by Meesh (2012)

Like a CD you’ve never heard of

I want to be thought of as acceptable

Think of me as something new, something worth listening to

Don’t download me online, or just get the singles.

I want you to buy me, the hard copy, spend your hard earned money on me,

become my friend because you WANT to

Desire to hear the tracks that correspond to my life

I want to be played and played again until you finally understand the lyrics

Feel my beat and clap your hands to my positive energy

Or cry along with me to my somber negativity

Cherish me like your favorite artist,

Or just your favorite song

And read my liner notes and appreciate my cover art as you go along

Press play when you want to hear me because I’ll always be by your side

Pause when desired because I might get too excited and skip a track or two

Stop me if I make a mistake of if you don’t want to hear me anymore

If I get too scratched up, wipe me off and put me back in my case, be the good friend that you’re supposed to be and tell me it’ll be ok

I’m willing to stop spinning from time to time anyway

Treat me like a CD you’ve never heard before

Think of me as something that’ll change what you listen to on the radio

Make sure you read my warning label though:

I am different, and I am my own genre

With a touch of conscious Hip Hop, a dash of Alt Rock and Jazz

No, WAIT! I’m a bit of everything, but don’t categorize me as a “subgenre” or an “other”

I have plenty of live instruments and a couple of synths in my later tracks, like The Roots

So I can appeal to most crowds…

Well, that’s if you buy me…

I may not have flashy album artwork

My skits aren’t always the funniest

And my tracks may not be brilliantly sequenced

But they’ve been strategically placed

So I can make friends that will only relate to certain songs, or certain parts of the album

I want a friend that cherishes me,

That hears me in their sleep

That thinks of my unique cadences, and hums them subconsciously

I want a friend that thinks of me as a CD that has never been heard before

Hear the timbre of the instruments I choose and jokingly say “of course you would “

Because I refuse to sound like another album

And play the same old songs over and over again like the radio does

And you know, I’m not made for the radio anyway

The radio doesn’t deserve me

I don’t possess one hit wonders

Nor do I spread worthless, misogynistic, mind numbing blunders

I do not turn up

My motto isn’t YOLO

I just have the music that makes your mind go

And make decisions that will keep you alive

Instead of doing stunts, getting drunk, smokin’ blunts that will tar up your mind

Soul and body, probably.

Just treat me like a CD you’ve never heard before

But don’t listen to me once and throw me away.

I’m a deluxe  edition with hidden bonus tracks

That can only be heard after a few playbacks.

Away - by Meesh (summer 2013)

You keep letting me walk away as if I am a/stray, with ashes from my rim down to my decisions that cloud up my revisions of marking my territory, finding solitude in the caves and alleyways of the gray city… 

Bumpin in the urban, to music, undeservin of the way life throws its curves, swerves, and has the nerve

To treat me as the one kind who is unkindly.

I’m binding my spine to the pages of this half ass, dog eared book we call life…

Once the pages start flying away we

Get blinded with a smack in the face and disgraced with the dripping words that have been misplaced…

As if I were a G where an E shouldn’t B… ♭, is my stomach…

I don’t want it…

Just to be spiteful might do for you

But there’s ne’er a clue that leads to the great Blue I the sky; in the chair actually,

But you sent me away so there’s no factual truth…

In my image you’ve been created… But you sent me away, so where are you?

Why I - by Meesh (2013)

This poem is the result of a poetry workshop from my old college. We had to write about an issue that angers us the most. In this poem, I took the stance of a young street soldier.

Why ?

Why does momma cry and the tears from her eyes hide the hate and crime I omit to the sky?

If I were her I’d quit, give up on this

This ain’t a life to live at all

From the womb I was destined to fall

Into the hands

Of

The hood

Or as we call it

The HOOD

Because we like covering ourselves from the real world

All we think we got is a gat,  some hats, and a pack of blacks

Think it’ll make everything better, just light up, shoot, and look for the next piece to dig, ya dig?

Why?

Well its simple

Why I do this

For thrills

That my homies get after I overcome the chills

I dont wanna do this

But I know this life I take won’t have to suffer no more

Why I say that?

Cuz its true.

I wanna pull the trigger on myself sometimes

But I’m too scared to do it

In school… Before I left… They said guns are hatred

But I love my gun, it makes people happy

Like I said before, they won’t suffer no more

And plus, its the only thing that loves me…

Why?

Because I know my gun in someone else’s hand is gonna love me too one day.

Hopefully when I turn 13, that’s my lucky number… 

untitled - by Meesh (2013)

My forlorn soul is full of light and color

But this life I live remains in black and white

Day by day this world gets duller

So with much difficulty I stay in the fight

Speeding down from pain and aching from hunger

I lumber and wonder when I can finally slumber

There’s no ceasing , at least in this place

This is the fate that I have no choice but face

My enemy, or, my friend as he

Lifted his grip while he said to me

"You fool, no one will try to change in this world"

Irate, I say “I can try, for I am a changing girl”

To change the world we first change  in our heart

To start we leave our mark by taking that first step in the dark

Our footprints will always remain, even if they’re washed away

For the earth knows what wonders you’ve done today

You and Me(dia) - by Meesh (2012)

Blinded by an iron curtain that really isn’t there

Unblock your ears and listen, so you can be aware.

There’s one thing I have to ask you:

What are you normally hearing?

Are you deaf, bored, are thoughts not appearing?

There’s something that always gets me,

something they always say,

"There’s nothing safe out there," yet

"it helps your health, don’t fray!"

"Keep your distance, be aware, "while

"Oh, it’s the best place to get paid!"

Contradictions, my friend, is all it creates

Every morning, afternoon, late

And subtle words that pass your ears

were powerful, but of course they made sneers that destroy the years

of fighting, struggling, blood, sweat and tearing

Leaving all that faded, erased, they became jaded

Claim to be all knowing, ignorance is what’s showing

Sliding thru their teeth, at least,

Can you show some grief?

They’re working, their tactics,

of hypnotizing… the fact is:

You twist and turn, shout, block the truth and never learn

that their efforts aren’t worth your time.

Solitude - by Meesh (2013)

Deep - pressed is the status of my heart

Low and heavy weight brings it down to the depths of despair

I try to seek refuge in sun’s shining rays

But all I can find is a shadow following my every move

Questions upon doubts upon sadness upon grief

What kind of world is this?

Should I even bother?