The Calamity of Color

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You wrote me down in history with your bitter twisted lies

But I am the Black seed you threw in the mud – now here I rise

Since 1619 I plowed the fields and built the foundation of my hatred

Lynching and mobbing in this nation against me – you hate me

You want to keep my neck under your knee

You like to hear me say I can’t breathe

You feel powerful- above me- greater

But even under your thumb you know I’m better

Suffering from Present Traumatic Stress Disorder- ain’t nothing Post

Except for posting my brothers and my sisters death- unnerving my goals

Expectations of my failure built from your animosity

But now I’m filled with it and I’m coming for our reciprocity

I cooked for you, cleaned for you, built for you, raised your kids for you, and yet you

You rape me, beat me, murder me, undermine me, oppress me – I should be Blue

But no- I’m still Black being killed by your Blue

And I wish you would say “Black on Black” crime, when 85% of killings were “White on White” there’s a new coined phrase we could use

How about we address the fact that Black population isn’t set to increase since Roe vs Wade, just another you plot to use

You can’t be superior when you don’t create, you take, you don’t trend, you copy

You may kill us, but we are more than just a life now- we are an idea you wish you created, but all you can do is rob me.

We’re surrounded by the disastrous measures you take against my people- we were not built equal

Let these word ring free, because you can not contain me, silence me, or change me.

Like the sound of my bones breaking – let the lies be sundered.

Let us be free of The Calamity of Color.

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Published by E. Lee V.

Blue Lady but I am never Blue. I am a reflection of the sky, positive virtue. I flow like water. I rain through the thunder. My soul so vivid, Sapphire, I am a wonder. I use the pen to creatively express the beat my heart makes. With every stroke, I strike emotions, - vividly exposing my arms where my heart lives. Feeling tender to touch, with a tight clutch, almost refusing to put the paper down to let my mind soak up this lyrical sense of my being. Refusing to empathize with myself, looking at this black and white masterpiece and questioning it's self worth. Allowing the ink to seep into my bloodstream, - I meditate. I am a queen in my own right, and a goddess to creation. My lines are just proof that the storm has arrived. I am here.

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