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I'll study the demise in your eyes and wonder if there was ever a time that you cried
For your loss.
I'll copy and trace the structure of your face and realize that
I am you.
Then I will show you a picture of my Dad and tell you but
This
Is my father.
Your genome may construct the structure of my bones but
I am his daughter.
And I am my mother
And I wonder, if you'll find it any if at all meaningful-
When I look you in the eyes and ask you
How someone so ugly
Can create something so beautiful.
When God created you,
He created the creation of me
And all I know about my identity is that I'm half Haitian
But that limb fell off from my family tree.
I pray
That God finds it in his heart to love you
Because God doesn't love the ugly.
Fortunately,
My skin may be tinted from the sins that make me your kin
But from the outside in
I look just like my mother.
Do you remember what she looks like?
My name is Rissa Ann Perkins, and I hope that you can't sleep tonight.
I hope that you frame a photo of my face in your brain
And if ever again should you dream,
I hope you wake up screaming my name.
Are you ashamed?
I'm not here to blame you
I came to show you
Just. How. Beautiful. I. Am.
And I just have to know what it feels like
To know that
I
Am you.
You gave me life.
I am you,
And I don't even love you.
So I have to know,
Do you love yourself?
All the flowers of the spring
Meet to perfume our burying;
These have but their growing prime,
And man does flourish but his time:
Survey our progress from our birth—
We are set, we grow, we turn to earth.
Courts adieu, and all delights,
All bewitching appetites!
Sweetest breath and clearest eye
Like perfumes go out and die;
And consequently this is done
As shadows wait upon the sun.
Vain the ambition of kings
Who seek by trophies and dead things
To leave a living name behind,
And weave but nets to catch the wind.
Polished stone, bare *****- rafters loomed above
silent owls swooped, black before the dawn
red wood carved with sorrow's blood
masks to hide behind - some never found
So swift to pass upon the earth
ashes, silence underground
Diego painted the Santa Catalina's
mountains now hung upon a wall
have found him glorious
in the lost barrio
When did I stop missing you?
When did I stop living in the past,
constantly remembering?

We all need to move on from any death,
but is it bad I almost never think of you anymore?

I feel like there's no emotional attachment.
I don't remember you much anymore,
just the last time I ever saw you                                                                                                *alive
Just really confused how much of letting go is good, and how much is bad, that I hardly even remember him.
No option, but to be perceived
Violent, Aggressive, Irrational
Identity becoming an other

Words of malice, they mystify
Words of ignorance, they vilify
Subverting consciousness and articulation

Our identities, fighting to be
Autonomous landscapes
Hoping in anticipation for liberation

No real notion of we or me
Implicating it's inhuman to be foreign
When they represent as much of we and me

Scandalizing alternative identities as subversive
Advancing erasures in favor of hegemony
Propaganda favoring what is most white

Amelioration for the obliteration of cunning identity?
No more cooperation, ****** the euphemisms
That cover up, and help justify marginalization

Our identities, fighting to be
Autonomous landscapes
Hoping in anticipation for liberation

Time to ****, ******, massacre eurocentric ideology
We preach no violence, being not them, just we
But cannot request to be free, must tear it out by force

Eurocentric ideological pandemic inhabiting, inhibiting the soul of mankind
Unthinkable abomination concealed in the veil of appropriated minds
Necessitating exorcism for the incarcerated conscious mind

When we completely violate mandates of eurocentric ideology
When only we appropriate our own identity
When we all nullify the color of our skin
As profanity or inadequacy

Our identities, fighting to be
Autonomous landscapes
Hoping in anticipation for liberation
Will be awaiting purgation from alienation
February 1, 2013
I was once a beautiful, & colorful girl.

I had a lover of my own,

and hair of great bouncing curl.

My dearest and I had the truest of loves,

the kind that sent pangs,

through the hearts of white doves.

Ages ago, we were out on a sail,

t’was a beautiful day,

with a marvelous gale.

‘Till, in seconds, there came,

a downpour of rain,

and a scene that would change,

life of this poor dame.

I discovered my dear,

he was shrouded in fear,

clutching and fleeing and never looking back.

He abandoned our ship,

while we were under attack

I was thrown overboard,

with a most violent shove.

There I felt hands,

not of the usual class,

but thinner and sharper,

like that of broken glass.

It was then I was pulled,

roughly down to the dim.

The endless depths of the sea,

without him.

I looked up to the sky,

but oh, by & by,

the light of the world,

was shrinking rapidly.

The vixens and creatures of the dark,

surround me.

I would float, breathlessly,

among a world, under water.

Where the sea-souls of men,

are taken for slaughter.

It wasn’t the vast sea,

of splendid blue-green,

you know the kind,

that you see in a dream.

It was red and green and horrid, pitch black,

and he never looked back.

Didn’t toss me a float,

or a rope for my throat.

And when I rose to the top,

I swam to the shore.

The tide came and went,

a swift, gentle roar.

I stood there for what,

had seemed like years,

and your back facing me,

couldn’t fathom the tears.

The world spun on,

as she always does,

and my heart broke again

a million ******, pieces it was.

you had left,

you had gone,

but I was still holding on

to a past full of lies

and of tainted goodbyes.

my cries,

should have been,

for all of my wasted time.
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