Wednesday, September 4, 2013

brown.


Black love used to be about black power.  
Now it seems it's more about gossip, 
who can out-shuck the other, 
while another one's agent knows all the jive.  

You can change all the pronouns you want in the songs you "sang", but you're still just fodder...
or a lyric in a Kanye West song.  

Do you really have a Dream?
Or a political agenda?
Or just a New York Times account and the safe, soft,
Brown ability
to click "share" on what your daddy (remember him) told you to spread.

Know who you were.
I think you do.
Be more concerned with the actions of yourself 
instead of the assumed stagnancy of others.

Brown boy, advance!
  
Brown boy, don't succumb 
to what seems the safest route.

They even sold afro-wigs in the 60s 
for those too afraid to march.

Either wear today's daishiki,
or raise the same fist.

Get a job and 
don't be a part of the equation your lighter shade
has helped you to avoid.

Get a job.
Pay your rent.
Don't turn into a YouTube comment.

Don't grow it out just for a role.
Do something.  
Don't try to be something.

Set an example.  Don't just share someone else's. 

Brown boy, 
you better run.
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