Ending Back Up In Paris

15 Nov

Black Panther PABParis to Perish

To Perish is a problem, yet I keep turning
away from working on their plan.
In full overstanding that poverty is a senile
female dog owned by sick white men.
Succumbing to Perish is of no use as they do
not fear scales nor my feathered pen.

No. Paper. Money. Ink.

“What does that have to do with Black Pete?”

I always told myself to walk my path,
never to trade Wisdom for regret.
Focus more, focus better, focus harder,
focus farther. Forgot Auset.
Many veils apart from realizing that
I had no mind to Justice my self yet.

No. Matter. Dark. Chaos.

“What does that have to do with Black Pete?”

As under unrelenting Indigo effort
my mind seems to return to me.
No longer the mind of a Black and Blue
child, instead maturing consciously.
I see that there is not one path I am on,
in the stead a Purple entwining tree.

No. Present. Past. Future.

“What does that have to do with Black Pete?”

I connect to this pinata poetry for I feel that
I was mentally raped on color tube all in grey.
Trigger in place to enrage me to no limit,
grabbing hold while digging into my own clay.
Address it before I unleash a fury of posts
on racism, blackface and black pete. Childplay.

No. Well. Hell. Land.

“What does this have to do with Paris?”




3 Responses to “Ending Back Up In Paris”

  1. hunglikejesus November 16, 2013 at 4:37 pm #

    Composition, composition and clarity. I wish I had a fraction of what you displayed here. I loved every word, and we must chop it up soon on the meaning because I so want to know where this came from.

    Very good as always sis,

    • No Black Pete November 16, 2013 at 9:38 pm #

      Much appreciated. Let none be fooled, you cast spells with ease. You called, I answered. And kept going.

    • hunglikejesus November 17, 2013 at 2:33 am #

      I cast no spells, I am simply me being me.

      I wonder about you often.

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