I want to burn it up. Get these feelings churned don't get turned around presented to you in great bounds and leaps so now you know those heaps are pure gold. No way to deny the king his bling only if you could ding you might get my ring but first it's gonna sting see the bee out back reach in the sack you got the knack. Now they are ready to bow at your feet you always bring the heat. So proclaim the best oh shit ain't that neat? Meet my friend he knows how to bend it to heal the mend in your heart smart words right there so that glare needs to disappear before the snow. Hug bug you smug you nug you tug at my heart more it's turning into a bore stupid whore blame it on the folklore fire's desires is to burn you up.
About the Creator
Discriminate
Authors note: I originally published this with no explanatory note, after a conversation with my partner in which we both agreed that no one would think these were my views, it was sufficiently over the top for it to be evidently a caricatured collection of some of the "microaggressive" things that can be said by people of one race to those of another. And lets be clear, I had in mind a white man talking to a black man in a country in which white is the majority. I wrote this after a conversation I had at work about the idea of microaggressions, in which we thought about who they were micro for - for the speaker, each of these comments may feel "micro", for the receiver, maybe not. I chose some of these lines carefully and deliberately, most of them are things I have heard said. But I wanted to come back and make absolutely clear that this is not a poem representing my views. We thought I didn't need to, but perhaps its not actually so very over the top as a caricature. Perhaps its a little too close to the bone. Perhaps that I would assume otherwise is in itself an illustration of my privilege.
By Hannah Moore2 days ago in Poets
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.