My Name Is Black
Distorted lines embrace my forehead
attaching meaning to the imbalance
that lingers over my heritage.
This life i live is embedded
by the perception of others.
An ancestral inheritance.
.
.
.
I stand here tempestuous
like a number 8 ball eschewing
a push into the corner pocket
of a sordid pool table.
Where white hails over all.
A sense of melancholy settles upon
my shoulders, reflecting the makeshift
land we dwell upon until the grave.
.
.
.
My extrication from this apathy
is bleak, vicissitude is not possible.
As the ground swells up threatening
to swallow me into its gaping mouth.
I fell down on my knees
clutching my chest and looking at
the heavens for deliverance. My lips
quivered as a voice invaded my head.
Pounding harder and harder
with every pump of my ventricles.
.
.
.
"Lord bestow me with the life
that I deserve, please!"
The voice became loud and reverential
God- "Son, you had no choice over
your family nor how you were
raised up or even your race but,
there comes a time when
every man has a choice
to make. Which is to determine
how his life turns out".
Life is all but a "Swing"
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