Gone

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I was born in iniquity, and raised on lies

I consumed deception by the gallons and immersed myself

How shattered must I be

that I can no longer tell reality from lies

or conjured fantasies from happened mundanity

 So shattered that even the hidden pain I veil

in words and poems and downcast glances

is but a shadow of the mirror of the true pain 

of the true falsehood that allows me to conjure up memories

that never were and paint them brighter and realer 

Words that allow me to slip on a mask and become 

more than average but in the process lose that average

but yet even as I stumble search and seek

hoping to grasp some morsel of wisdom through introspection

even then when I am alone and my heart is laid bare

even then when I am entwined and my heart is stripped

Even then,

the truth dribbles out in increments 

flooded out by the gallons of deceit that spews

endlessly and relentlessly from my mouth

from my carriage from my very existance

Each small drop of truth a unique snowflake soon consumed 

by the sandstorm of life and I am left blind

scrabbling for truth and trading for pennies

searching for the secret place I stashed them

but even as I watch the place I placed them is gone

leaving behind naught but dust and doubt 

Each step a lie is drawn on the sand in footprints

with waves of reality following erasing the marks left 

but yet somehow I am always a step a head 

Searching for a place, a person, a thing

something so much more than me that I can release myself

and be torn apart and rebuilt from the core out

each memory construction reduction reduced 

and re construed to match what truly lies within me. 

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Silent Lies

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The lies we told each other with fake faces
The promises we made to break are now breaking me 
As the silence speaks volumes and the words aren’t heard
We said forever but we didn’t even begin 
Doomed before we could become we are now broken
Veiled dreams torn and guttered, strewn apart in my dreams
We could have been but our strings once unraveled refused
Once we beat in harmony like a two person band 
But now the music is only the aching of my heart 
Straining against the constraints of my skin 
Searching for you but you are not listening 
You are not listening

Colored History

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Our history is written in blood, the pages

stained red by the splatter of our blood

as the sound of the whip echoes

Bleached white by the bones of fathers 

and our mothers that are scattered

Cursed black like the skin so hated and

black like the hearts of those who killed

and raped us like animals, though we are brothers

 

The slavery “ended” but the memory remains

the reign of tears can not wash away the dark

stains from our hearts and our minds

cry out for the injustices of the past, present and future

the memories weigh us down as the burdens

borne by our ancestors brought them down,

we alked bowed to the ground by the weight

of our history while the world turns and turns and forgets 

 

The grass grows green and the skies remain blue

untouched by the ravages of our black bodies

by the floods of our salt, tears,sweat and blood

just as the history books remain pristine and the

black hearts of those who came before are cleansed

by the black ink on white papers and the tradgedies

that were and are, are forgotten.