Gift

Without the opportunity of reflection,
How can we process,
Learn,
And grow?
Wisdom is often acquired with the gift of time,
Yet so much time we waste,
In haste,
Or stuck in the past.
Is it a coincidence that today is the present,
And in our language a substitute for that word is gift?
Forget not the past,
The seed in which you blossomed.
Look forward to the future,
In which you may enjoy how far you have come,
But remember no man knows how long we each have,
So try to enjoy everyday,
Even if in dismay,
Life is hard,
Complicated,
A challenge,
We know not why we are here,
Why there is so much inequality,
And life is unfair,
But we have been permitted to experience life,
For some they are showered in riches and glory,
Others no luck
Ill health,
Struck with bad luck and no opportunity,
Treated poorly,
We know not how our fates are cast,
How long we will be here,
And lives will last.
What came before?
What happens next?
We can not compare,
Because all is inexplicably unbalanced and unfair.
Some are born with riches,
Fortune,
Networks,
And opportunity,
Others with nothing,
In poverty,
Off the map,
And instantly forgotten.
Many people are left behind,
Sadly knowingly,
They are not blind,
But will any of this matter when we leave this world behind?
Questions!
Curiosity!
Up there,
Or down there,
It’s in us all to strive to survive.
One inevitability is that we shall all follow in the footsteps of those whom have left us behind,
So lets make the best of today,
Before it flurries away into yesterday,
Each unwrap our presents,
Spend time on exerting who we are,
Where we are,
What we are,
As that is all we can ever be sure of.

Black, Female and Mentally Ill…And Fighting Still!

There is a fine line between sanity and insanity.
I stare at my reflection,
Seeking perfection,
Honestly having no idea about what that truely is.
I’m on the borderline of stability and instability,
Every ounce of me fragmented,
And scattered further than the eye can see,
Between Black and White,
Spread way out to beyond infinity.
My mind is heavy,
The weight affecting my physicality,
Heavy shoulders crush my body and psyche,
Mascarade my identity.
Tight lipped,
Yet open,
I share,
But do not declare all,
As that would make me vulnerable beyond repair,
And I need to try and be present,
As I continuously try to process,
What others don’t see,
Know,
Nor understand,
Combating the high demand,
Constant flickers of my mind,
A glitch,
Each switch,
Pain like bolts of lightening,
The tornado,
The storm,
No choice but to surpress,
I cannot confess,
If I wish to rub shoulders,
Walk beside you,
Clean up the mess of injustice and segregation.
I play the game,
To appear the same,
To not appear to roam to far off track,
Because once your off the grid,
You can never come back.
I must not be too loud,
I must not appear angry,
My foots in the door,
But there’s a long journey ahead of me,
Especially with the ill mental health struggles that I adhere to daily,
That debilitate me.
I’m black,
I’m a woman,
With BPD,
Whose going to give a platform to me?
Nobody!
I must fight my own fight,
There is no option of flight,
People need to hear me,
See me,
For help,
Understanding,
And rationality,
21st century,
And yet still I am denied because of my nationally,
Hindered by my gender,
Muted for my disability.
Stigma boxes me,
Taboo blocks me,
But nothing will silence me,
People will find me,
As I won’t campaign quietly,
You can extinguish my fire,
But I will start another,
And another,
Until we are accepted by society,
And welcomed to equality.

Ugly Mess…

Am I weak?
Do you disapprove of the approval that I seek?
Are you aware of your neglect,
And the emotional debt that you are racking up with me.
Can you not hear nor see?
The division between us is making me feel empty,
Worthless,
You have cut the string prematurely,
I do not feel free.
I do not want your sympathy,
But I would relish in your empathy.
How can you be so blind,
And not admit that you have left me behind.
It is your duty to fix and solidify the devide between us,
To eliminate any confusion or fuss,
By keeping us wholesome.
Once a pair,
Then an equal square,
Now a triangle,
Or a pentagon,
Where has my place gone?
Should I try one more time to let you know,
Or just keep the memories alive of the good times,
Be happy for you,
And let you go?
I have tried to articulate my feelings,
To orchestrate some emotional healing,
I am the outsider without the key,
No longer immediate family.
Each chapter of our story,
I appear less and less,
As you clear out the cobwebs of ugliness,
And release me,
The ugly mess.

coconut

At school,
I was bullied.
Bullied by the people that looked like me,
But didn’t act like me,
It was not my intention to be different,
Not an act,
Just a fact,
I think it is important to be yourself,
Not just follow like sheep,
Nor act like playing a part,
But to be an individual.
I’ve always been quite colour-blind really,
Favoured people for their behaviour,
Their humour,
Personality,
And interior,
Our connection,
Genuine sparks fly,
Because of chemistry,
A connection of souls,
What people look like meant nothing,
Means nothing to me,
Why should it?
How shallow!
Materialistic!
I like genuine bonds with genuine people,
That is natural to me,
But with lashings of ignorance,
A splash of resentment,
Dollops of hormones,
A lack of processing,
And sprinkles of judgement off my peers,
I was custard pied,
Rated as poorly baked,
Not adhere to certain standards,
Cast aside,
Ridiculed,
Criticized,
And patronised,
Left on the harsh receiving end of bullying.
The girls that looked like me,
The Black girls,
My sisters,
The girls that had the reputation of being tough,
With their,
“Don’t Fuck With Me” attitudes,
In this huge all girls school,
They did not take to me,
They fucked with me,
But fortunately only verbally,
Which was lucky,
As keeping up appearances,
With anyone that stood in their way,
They would fight,
And they would scrap.
They commanded respect,
By sticking togethering,
Dominating threat,
And casting fear to all that were not in their favour,
A purposeful segregation,
Forced entitlement cast by fear,
So powerful that no one would dare dispute,
They would silently force their way to the front of the dinner line que,
Come from nowhere and get on the bus before you,
And no one would complain,
We didn’t dare to.
Picking on me,
Perhaps because the majority of my friends were white,
Thinking that was odd and not right,
But is was just per chance,
Not a purposeful decision for me,
I just took preference of personality,
Open to friendship with anybody.
They would call me Coconut,
It upset me.
They called me a Bounty,
It upset me,
Meaning I was fake,
Black on the outside,
But white on the inside,
Stripping me of my identity.
At a young age it really confused me,
I was just doing me,
But that was apparently not good enough!
Insincere,
Was something I did not want to be,
Nor did I try to be,
I was,
I am proud of my heritage,
But living in the modern day,
Why create segregation,
Ostracise me,
Try to embarrass me,
It was ignorance that I ran from,
The mentality,
Not ones nationality.
Now I am thirty-four,
I clearly remember it all,
But now being older,
Looking back,
Upon reflection,
If that is the only insult that they could cast against me,
Really and truly,
They had no insult at all!
Think about the fruit,
Coconut,
It’s nutritious,
And delicious,
So,
You want to be narrow minded,
Call me a coconut,
I’ll take it,
There are much worse and harsher words,
More personal,
Less generic words that you could have used to bully me,
But the truth is,
They couldn’t find any,
Because I wasn’t at fault,
They were,
And they were clutching at straws!
Their insecurities!
Their uncertainties!
Their jealousies!
Projecting irrelevance,
And their labelling,
And their declarations upon me,
It was all about them,
Weak people find themselves by putting others down,
And they never look back,
Seemingly nonchalant,
Because they cannot face their own wrong doing,
They move on,
Leaving victims with irremovable scars,
Tainted memories,
And incurable insecurities.
If someone today called me a bounty,
A coconut,
Or in these days an Oreo,
I would just take it on the chin,
And own it,
Because to me,
They are all nice things,
Just like I am a nice person,
Sweet,
And most likely good enough to eat,
I shall ignore your ignorance,
And deny you defeat.
My advice to them would be,
Don’t worry yourself about me,
You do you,
And I’ll do me.
I shall not fester in others negativity.
So come on and do your worst.
I am Black,
I am dark skinned,
I am proud of my heritage and history,
I am free,
And will befriend anyone who shares a genuine connection.
Within me,
Regardless of ethnicity,
Because I only associate with purity,
Honesty,
Sincerity,
Kindness,
love.
Love comes with any and every colour,
None more better than another,
Let spite,
Judgement,
And hate evaporate,
Instead,
Let us see beauty within the rainbows of this world,
And celebrate in unity.