skin
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I remember swiping on your profile
Your eyes like stormy skies
I remember your smile
The way it tilted slightly to the right
And the way I couldn’t stop staring at you
But it almost feels illegal
Fat
That’s what they call me
As if I didn’t already know
As if the doctors hadn’t already given me the heartbreaking diagnosis
Again and again and again
Fat
So yes I am fat
And yes I am tall
Winter…. Is awful
I spend five months (give or take) a year
Every year suffering
In the cold
And the wind
And the frigid expanse of dim lighting
And depressed employees
All for what?
softer than silk,
yet still covered in imperfections.
i've covered you in discolored green splotches,
harsh pink patches,
and unforgiving white slashes,
yet you refuse to turn calloused.
Black,
White.
Muslim,
Christian.
Rich,
Poor.
We are covered in labels,
And drowning in sterotypes.
We can't break free,
From the painful lies.
My skin is white,
Mine, the color of salted toffee
Hers, a delicate cream
The perfect layer of latte foam
That lowers my self-esteem
Or maybe it's more of a porcelain white
Only opinion knows
Shed the skin of the colonizer
As if it is not also mine
As if the blood coursing through me did not also
pool along the legs of Malintze
these girls fan over my melanin as if it were designer
that they can try on and wear until they’re bored.
snatch the skin off this mannequin,
claw until they see fresh wounds,
and wrap it around themselves.
Oh, powerful Sun
Illuminated still
Like a plant, I reach to you
’til I’ve had my fill.
So, I flower & I fruit
& make aromatic scents
with my skin living in
perpetual radiance.
Skin.
My skin.
My melanin.
My pigment that makes my skin appear darker.
My pigment that absorbs all light.
Skin
The skin that people aspire to have.
The skin that started man kind.
Ink on the Skin,
White like Paper.
I am my writing,
The corners taper.
My poems I read,
Then soon become.
Sharing the thoughts,
I'm trying to overcome.
These words I write,
Share a story.
My mother wanted to name me Nina.
The dreamer.
Talented, highly flavored and strong.
A woman whose voice spanned generations.
Is it so detestable
The way I look?
Am I disgusting?
Can't you see my humanity
I am
Unique
There is no one else
Like me
Yes, my skin looks like this
It matters not
Dear Atopic Eczema,
As you take away barriers of my skin
I have built up walls around my heart
Before I knew that I was Pangea,
You break me into continents
A golden glow falls down from sky,
And on my face and hands does lie,
It warms my skin, but also soul,
And heals my broken heart to whole.
to my Self,
you have always been,
are,
and will continue to be,
perfect in your imperfections.
You are human,
and you are as beautiful as the cosmos.
to my Skin,
#MeToo
for every time her hair wrapped my fingers,
and her body hugged the cold rim of the toilet,
because you decided
she wasn’t drunk enough.
#MeToo,
for all the accidental grazes,
Don’t eat that.
I am just being honest,
Because I love you.
You will regret eating that,
A moment...
I am trying to help you,
We talk of how the pen is mightier than the sword.
So why does the ink in my skin continue to be cut by the whit-hot blade of racism?
My hair is black as vanilla bean.
Her hair shines fire in the sunlight
Like in the sun is the only place she belongs
And the moonbeams caress her dark skin
Like she has always been a part of the stars
And the universe glimmers in her eyes
The color of my skin does not determine my worth; it strengthens it
The color of my skin does not define my success, it glorifies it
The color of my skin does not hinder my beauty, it enhances it
I can still feel the heat of the sun on my skin
Still feel the memory of where it had been
As we both fell asleep
We both fell so fast
I looked up at you
And I prayed it would last
Each Night,
I rub, I scrape
and I fight.
Each night I try
to wash the pigment
I cry
as my skin begins to redden
I can't take it off.
All of a sudden
I stop.
The morning after always brings more satisfaction than the previous night.
Feeling like gods as the sunlight illuminates our copper skin
Air, thick with content
Green eyes stare back into mineand time becomes lostWe talk under starshineThough tomorrow we'll pay the cost
Imagine darkness
Blackness with hints of color
Unusual yet subtle...
Imagine lonliness, yet devoured with fear
Thats how I feel
Lost in a sea of whiteness
I’m white, Caucasian,
Dutch, Norwegian.
I have no month
To celebrate this background,
But I have had 18 years
To learn about my people
My people—
Who are not just white
Tired irrational thoughts Miss the page and end up inked blots What use is this? Too many thoughts for paper to hold I thought this would clear my mind or so I was told Time to be bold
This skin does not belong to me
it is merely borrowed.
A place in which I only temporarily reside.
My skin is not yet finished.
My time has not yet come.
But it will.
We see our skin everyday.
the flesh gripping tightly on our bones and protecting us from the world outside
as we shake a hand,
dry our eyes,
or contemplate in the mirror upon if I can fit in and erase my thighs,
A picture painted in red,
Crimson sliding down a canvas of snow-white skin.
Creating cracks in porcelain as the knife cuts deeper,
The bright fluid oozing out from underneath the surface.
Dulled senses are awoken,
I know
I am white
You do not have to stare
At me
With your doe eyes
And envy
I know
I am white
I hate this skin
Keeping us apart
This lesson we've all been taught
So, we sit
We wait
What now?
The smooth, seductive sound
Of the blues swim around us
The intoxicating moods that shift all around
I look at you
You look at me
you began to undress me
and as each button of my blouse becomes undone
a sliver of some imperfection slips past
my possessions that once possessed me settle in a pool around my ankles
I saw a river in her stretch marks
It was beautiful
I knew if I travelled long enough
I'd find her delta
The place where she began.
Her ocean was so wide
I'd never come close to knowing her depth
I am Unfinished.
My edges aren't sanded smooth
There are creases and circles worn into my eyes,
There are scars and callouses on my hands
There are stripes of uneven bronze across my skin
Skin can break
bones can shatter
but words will forever ffill the air.
Unbreakable
filled with power.
They win wars
and stop hate.
They can be used for greatness.
The Skin I’m in
The Skin I’m in doesn’t mean I am covered in sin
Or that I am corrupt from within born into a life of violence and rage.
That because of my skin tone I am an animal uncaged.
Looking in the mirror,
my skin leaves a message.
It provides internal and external feelings,
about my life, what it has offered and what is to come.
Living for fifteen years, has shown me a part of who I am.
There's a funny little saying
You are what you eat
So watch what you eat cause
You are what you eat
Can't have fast food
You're fat
Can't have that cookie
That's sugar
Today we are told to be thinner, eat less, work out more; that our beauty has a standard we need to brace ourselves for.
An apology is much overdue
For all the harm I've caused;
More so with the harsh words,
Which daily fell from my tongue.
The cuts and bruises once came
From being young, wild, and free.
If I said I was a leader would you follow. If I said I was inspiring would you listen.If I said I was a Christian would you believe me.
Because of my skin tone I'm considered another ethnicity
Because of my skin tone I'm judged for wanting the traditional values of my heritage
"Fireworks" you murmured
That summer afternoon
Wrapped in your arms on the couch
A kiss that ended so soon
It was my first with you
Beforehand didn't matter
Yes I'm black, that doesn't mean I'm vulnerable to attack,
I'm just like you, a human, red blood, emotions and a moving figure,
war, there is war everywhere in Iraq, Syria, and even in the U.S.A, recently there has been an epidemic of police bashing. A seed in Ferguson was shot to death by a police officer, which sent a fire through the field.
Twisted and tangelled I think I fell out of the skiy.
Red flesh kept mangeled, is not how humans feel alive.
To live and feel life where the sorrow and anger has been.
Was written like a map in my layers of skin.
Black & white
Why fight between us human
Why racism compare to color ?
You might be white or black and nothing difference between us.
I've grown up around strong women. To be specific, I've been surrounded by strong black women.
That doesnt make me strong though
This made it hard for me to find myself. I wanted to be like them
I know the guys always say the same old line.
"The makeup compliments your eyes"
Honestly your personality compliments your mind you one of a kind.
No matter how much makeup you apply you can't never hide what's inside.
My thoughtsGo crazy. They wander,They go in circlesMaybe that's the reason for the blackCircles underneathMy eyes.My eyesStare out the window as my thoughtsUnderneathThy skin wanders.
The black girl.
Built strong, legs long unlike her hair.
Hair thick like her hips. Full lips.
Left on this earth for a purpose but constantly forced by society to find it alone.
The absolute design that defines me,
and yet in the mist of the night no one hears my screams.
Skin does not have the power
To identify who someone is.
Skin has no morality, nor intelligence
What we feel is what we know.
It is delicate, fragile.
Punctured and bruised.
Touched and healed.
What we feel is what we know.
And every time, the goosebumps grow,
as if the bruises from my self conscious's grip weren't enough of a reminder of these
Skin
Your ugly because your dark skin
Your beautiful because your light skin
bullying teasing all to make yourself feel good
according to my tattoo artist
my paper is skin thin my skin is paper thin.
thin skin means more scarring means shitty tattoos.
i am not capable of holding ink.
he had a past.
physical
touching
heat.
he was known for his drive
his reputation was based on his tendency to always have a beautiful, flawless girl
who gave herself freely.
When starting out
We are like a cocoon
All wraped up in love
Blind to our surroundings
As time goes on we start to break free
We find out that our cocoon of love
Was never what it seemd
Racism.
It's such a strong word,
A prevelant issue,
Something that separates,
Discriminates.
It leads to wars.
It does not love.
It is an unjust system.
It hurts.
Why does it matter if my skin is darker than yours?
Why take my land away from me and leave me here suffering with an empty soul?
At least give me clean water in return,
rip open my head and yours,
We are stuck in a world of prejudice,
Where the colour of our skin does not go unnoticed
To say I am a citizen of the world is wrong,
Because I must find a way to belong
By colour, race and religion
So I'm white
I must have it easy.
Are you sure?
Or is it the wealthy you're thinking of?
It's not their skin.
It's the money, education, and opportunity.
I was 13.
Looking in the mirror,
It never dawned to me why,
Why the window between my teeth,
The disproportionate nose,
The “five-head”,
Too sufficient for just a bang,
Not brown
Little do we knowbut darkness does fade. And that dark flesh won't always be so sweet.Little do we know
Those cool summer nights
Not a cloud in sight Catching fire flies The glisten in your eyesOut under moon lit skies Time sure flys bye On those summer nights
Sometimes i pretend to be someone famousi wake up like them and dress like them,i slip into their skin and it’s okay.
Black, purple, and blue dents,
keepers of the memories and events
that orate a tale of the ego held within.
Each contusion a badge of honor and strength–the true gold metals of life.
Traveling the heartless tunnel, where I must defend,
Where I must pace slowly,
The Raging Wolf snarls in my glittered path.
Muting the song of heartbreak with his temper,
His seductiveness and lust-
The skin
that I am in
is my own
For it is something that
I could never loan
It is the bark on my bones
the shell on my back
It is the canvas of life
for the voice that I lack
Organ of immense size,
enterance and barrier,
we are a people
obessesed.
Color, clarity, cut,
that's all we see.
Peel it back,
throw it away.
Our hearts all beat,
Skin deep I'm blond,
so I must be dumb,
but my mind whirls faster than most.
Skin deep I wear skirts,
so I'm a crazy conservative,
but I'm quite liberal.
Skin deep I'm not skinny,
It gets so silent sometime that I wonder if God can even hear me,
No one to talk to because everyone has their own problems,
So to cope I throw my thoughts into a bottle,
Tighten it up so no one can get to them.
Skin,
Epidermis wrapped around the inner bones
to perform life.
Skin,
Barrier to the outer adversaries
Of nature.
Skin,
A continuous uncomprehensive
Victimization from
Ginger spines
Flaky sighs
Powerless,
You glossy-eyed
Creature.
I saw you there,
In the crevices of my dreams
Breathless, in a pool of gems
Lost within the carefree
Stop the crying
The bleeding, shouting—
I can’t sleep.
Oily unease bubbles out
My knees grow heavy
Throat cluttered by horror, undigested
The buildings alight across the city
Honey tan skin
Devoid of a single blemish
uninterrupted by imperfection
Soft and smooth
Honey tan skin
wrapped around every limb
Smiling at every passerby
encasing a beautiful soul
(poems go here)
Obra Maestra
He called onto the dirt, made the soil reflective
The final ounce of life now materializing
I make a guess from this heart in my chest that he looked like the the night put to rest.
He had his hood thrown over his head as it hid the blood-red shed of tears.
Yes he'd been misled but instead he just looked ahead.
She tries it on, like a dress.
She decides it doesn’t fit,
and starts to take it off.
Her skin comes, too.
I stood there one night and grace my eyes upon the sky. And said "please Angels send me a message, i need to speak with God." I' am sad Lord. My debt is building, yet from trying to better myself with school.
Pressure up the side
Curls around the neck
Traces every curve
How does it form?
Continuity turned erratic
Straights transition to diagonals
Questions natures laws
Can anything be truly perfect?
We liked to write stories on our skin.
It helped the time pass in the winter.
We only hoped they would stay hidden
but we sinned and sinned and sinned.
Soon we gave up trying to cover-up.
The skin i'm in is the warm cozy temple, covered in chocolate designed by God
The skin you call too dark or too bruised is what I hold my head up high in
I would like to be something different.
Maybe if I change my habits again.
Through hard work and dedication I can.
Become something not as myself.
To whom it may concern:
What is it about me that frightens you?
Is it the way I talk? The way I walk? The way I’m shy?
If you really get to know me I am a nice and sweet guy.
What a shame, how we all were treated before,
False accusations, people judged the color of skin.
Our potential, needs, and feelings were forgotten, ignored,
Our worn and torn shoes, no one has thought to step in.
There’s Segregation with dark skin and light skin and everything in between
I really don’t think this was Martin’s dream
He wanted one nation, one people, one heart
But instead we have our own blood tearing each other apart
I am no longer the beautifully tinted woman that grew up between the tropical trees and vines of the most alluring forests.
