The Hate U Give
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Humanity is blessed with a gift
Of different cultures, different ideas
Of uniqueness
But are we really that different, you and I?
That we don't deserve all the same rights as you do?
Red, white, and blue
What does that mean to you?
To you red might symbolize love
But to me red symbolizes the blood
I'd trade all my dollars
to plant flowers and trees
in a world where money
has become a disease.
To those that fill the silences
Whose names are empty bullets shot in a war they never meant to fight in
Whose names are abused and twisted and pulled apart like old rags
To those that fill the silences
Whose names are empty bullets shot in a war they never meant to fight in
Whose names are abused and twisted and pulled apart like old rags
This piece is a comment on gun violence in America, an issue I am incredibly passionate about. I participated in the March for Our Lives in my city and have been a vocal part of my community on this issue.
How dare you?
You walk on this Earth as if you're perfect, judging me.
I've made my mistakes, I've owned up to my faults.
You walk on this Earth as if you're perfect, hovering over my mistakes.
My slam coaches and judges tell me
That I mumble too much
Something about how I speak when I’m on stage
I have this almost drawl
Growing up, I believed that being pretty meant being white
So I disowned my language and refused to speak Tagalog
I told my mom that I hated her cooking, even though my favorite dish is Sinigang
white woman is a kind lady
all smiles and tulips in the morning
goes to church on sundays
or maybe not
maybe she doesn’t like churches
Is my son here? No.
Is my son here? No.
Is my son here? No.
Where is he then? He is at work.
Every day, I take part in a cruel joke
Dear Perfection,
Every time I think of “beautiful,” I imagine wavy chocolate hair, deep blue eyes, and a lean build. Tan skin, large breasts, about 5’6” and a smile that makes any man’s heart melt. The antithesis of me.
Black beauty. Black beauty is something that we fought so hard to love. Dark skin, lightskin, for most melanin was never the right skin.
In my dreams, I’ve seen packed churches...with niggas outside saying fuck the police
The casket is always closed the face inside is unknown,
A Poem for the Man on the Platform
“Men love a woman in a dress.”
I recoil as if struck,
