Barbed Wire Rapist

7 Jun

this may enhance your reading pleasure:

Image

Our grandmothers screams can still be

heard through trees and swamps and back roads,

screams that signify a fire has started.

I can still feel white hands around Black

throats, still hear white breath in Black ears,

whispering devil thoughts in demonic tongues,

useless crying in half way nights fall on

nonexistent ears.

Barbed wire rapist with razor blade fingers,

leaving genetic scars on Black wombs and Black seed,

stubborn intrusions polluting Black blood with insanity

and double cross, injuring Black minds with delay and self doubt.

Healing still not coming to our grandmothers while,

rancid, pus filled wounds are left to fester and

infect, as you stand tall as if superior to Black

people, on your infertile land, which left

infertile by your dead crops and manipulations.

You felt deviant ecstasy as you entered

Mother’s land, with swollen, pale, hate filled bayonet,

stabbing generation pon generation of Black genius and

resource, with exact precision and intent, you wanted

nothing but to inflect devastation that carry the balance forward.

Barbed wire rapist shooed husband and father

from uneasy comfort, so bringer of bondage could

continue to defile and lay waste to Black

pearls and little girls.

Full of shame and self detached, her eyes

would never meet her man’s eyes again,

while Barbed wire rapist grinned and wait for

half way night, as doors can’t lock and cowardice hates light.

9 Responses to “Barbed Wire Rapist”

  1. diaryofanegress June 7, 2012 at 7:09 PM #

    Oh…my…God…I am left speechless. This is by FAR the most potent poem I’ve ever read. I need a minute to process this.

  2. diaryofanegress June 7, 2012 at 7:13 PM #

    I’m actually crying right now…

  3. hunglikejesus June 7, 2012 at 7:18 PM #

    I went through a lot of emotion with this myself. I had to stop writing for awhile and just let this settle about half way through.

    Though my hand wrote this, I can’t take credit for it. This is a collection of torn clothes and broken hearts for at least 500 years. This hurt is genetic.

    • truthbetold June 10, 2012 at 11:13 AM #

      That’s a beautiful reply…Genetic Hurt…Hmmmm…I must use that sometime.

    • sangoma July 3, 2012 at 7:37 PM #

      Tears. Tears. Tears. Rage.

  4. innerstanding isness June 8, 2012 at 8:39 PM #

    Reblogged this on innerstanding isness.

  5. diaryofanegress June 10, 2012 at 11:14 AM #

    Reblogged this on diaryofanegress and commented:
    Potent poetry from a potent soul…

  6. honeytreebee March 14, 2013 at 5:00 AM #

    Jesus this one we spoke of. This one cuts at me and parts of my life i wish to forget. I remember the look in her eyes as I put it together and reached out to her loving her. I watched until she passed on the pain of being robbed of so much the anger and shame never being washed away no matter how many layers were ever peeled back it was never enough. I could see the pain in her mother’s eyes that were buried deep in her’s. her very presence always a reminder to those who loved her most and those she loved best of the crime committed so long ago. Yet never faded away unlike her faded skin. The stain from birth that she hid from me her only never fully bringing herself to tell the tale… only a guess and a nod and that look I’ll never forget… How she so wished to rip it out of her how she wished to tear it from her own flesh…

    • hunglikejesus March 14, 2013 at 9:39 PM #

      It’s this kinda frustration that lead to this piece. Your words are added dimension this piece could easily incorporate. Like I mentioned, this hurt is genetic and won’t be washed away, it can only be learned from and move beyond. They have yet to make a soap that can wash away the stain they put on us. Let’s keep it alive as to not let it get repeated by those not in the know. I want you write something and I’ll post it here. You seem to have a lot to say and it needs to be said.

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