It’s painful
Not miss Jane Pittman working in the fields among collard greens and cotton painful
But still its painful
These wars that we have to fight while others set there silently
Through the emotional violence
They sit there in their privilege and mink coats
While the hypocrisy chokes
My imagination
I have lost my imagination and sometimes my fascination with settling down becomes blurry
Sick of carrying this multicolored Gucchi cross on my back
With each, “Why do you….?”
I grow weary
When all I want to do is lay in your arms
Come home to you
Take care of you
How the hell is that wrong?
See this is much deeper than some trendy song where so chick who’s into penis envy
Sings about her indiscretions
Everything but the burden
Sometimes in the middle of the night I cry silently about the weight that we carry
On our undaground railroad
As we move underground in muted whispers so that nobody knows
The way I touch your body, worship your body…and captivated by your body
Our politics are personal
And what we do is personal
And yet…it still can be painful
And create resentment
Incomprehension
From ignorant and closed minded folks
But maybe their ignorance is blissful and a blessing
Not knowing what this love feels like
Not knowing what feeling denied is like
Maybe their incomprehension is the one thing that allows them to love
Breathe this stagnant air
And walk through this fog
That I have to navigate through
Wounded
Broken
Bleeding
Until I can touch you
Grab you
Claim my own American dream
This will continue to be….
Just a tad bit
painful.
Not miss Jane Pittman working in the fields among collard greens and cotton painful
But still its painful
These wars that we have to fight while others set there silently
Through the emotional violence
They sit there in their privilege and mink coats
While the hypocrisy chokes
My imagination
I have lost my imagination and sometimes my fascination with settling down becomes blurry
Sick of carrying this multicolored Gucchi cross on my back
With each, “Why do you….?”
I grow weary
When all I want to do is lay in your arms
Come home to you
Take care of you
How the hell is that wrong?
See this is much deeper than some trendy song where so chick who’s into penis envy
Sings about her indiscretions
Everything but the burden
Sometimes in the middle of the night I cry silently about the weight that we carry
On our undaground railroad
As we move underground in muted whispers so that nobody knows
The way I touch your body, worship your body…and captivated by your body
Our politics are personal
And what we do is personal
And yet…it still can be painful
And create resentment
Incomprehension
From ignorant and closed minded folks
But maybe their ignorance is blissful and a blessing
Not knowing what this love feels like
Not knowing what feeling denied is like
Maybe their incomprehension is the one thing that allows them to love
Breathe this stagnant air
And walk through this fog
That I have to navigate through
Wounded
Broken
Bleeding
Until I can touch you
Grab you
Claim my own American dream
This will continue to be….
Just a tad bit
painful.
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