Friday, March 19, 2010

My try at Spoken Word...

One day I was home watching teens in an international Spoken Word competition. I had never heard a competition but as the chills rolled down my arms listening to the poems they had composed, I was mesmerized. Immediately thinking, that I would love to be able to do what they were doing. I've written poetry for as long as I can remember but I had never done something as moving as this. I wanted to be a part of it but placed this thought somewhere in the back of my mind.

One morning I was up writing and some words pursed my lips begging me to pay attention to them. I did and what followed was my chance to express what I truly felt inside. My chance at Spoken Word...

I always respond to the ignorance of others and become angry when I'm not judge as an individual. Being a female and black are components of who I am which make up my whole being. However, I am not exactly the same as any other woman, black woman or black person. I am an individual and want to be judge by what I do, not by the actions of another. Remember it flows like spoken word which is why there are commas and such in certain spots. I want you to feel what I am saying. Don't judge me by the actions of my brother...

Don't Judge Me...

Don’t judge me by the actions of my brother
There’s no guarantee we even have the same mother,
Our skin may be the same shade or even a little lighter,
Just ‘cause it’s a shade of brown, don’t make him mine.

I’m a visionary, a dreamer, an aspiring writer
Don’t judge me by the actions of my brother.
He’s never worked or even paused once to care
Pants below his waistline coupled with unkempt hair
His dress designed without an ounce of flair.
Me, myself, I spend hours in front of a mirror
Preparing for a crisp presentation
He has never seen his own discarded reflection.
Never cared enough to peek
What is it exactly that he seeks?

Don’t judge me by the actions of my brother
We may not even have the same mother
He shines a wide grin trying to render you clueless
Strategic planning bringing you closer to him,
Figuring out exactly when your hurt shall begin.
No two words aligned in truth as he looks through you
Making every effort to lessen your value.

I walk the streets composed and erect in a straight line
Him, he has never taken a stride similar to mine.
I may know him personally or as a distant observer
I just know, that he ain’t hardly my brother.
He may be a lighter shade of brown
Or a darker hue than you,
Which, doesn’t make him my brother
Anymore than it makes him kin to you.

I stress and beg you one last time
As if hopelessly stuck on rewind--
Don’t judge me by the actions of my brother
I don’t know him and desire no introduction
I’m much more intellectual and free, than he.
When you see me judge me by my whisper,
Not his loud ferocious roar—
Spewing obscenities and profanity
His words not mine by choice.
Honesty and truth, isn’t that how you want me
To judge you?

My character and willingness to be real
Is more than you expected me to feel
Not giving me a clear cut chance
Judging me by his dreadful circumstance.
Before you form an opinion of another
But please, don’t judge me by the actions of my brother
I can guarantee we don’t have the same mother.

What we share is similar visual characteristics—
But our inner being is less common than you’ve assumed
Your ignorance like an old death should be exhumed
Removed from my existence modify your thinking.
When you judge me, open your eyes looking beyond my complexion—
And by chance you will glance into who I am and for the first time… see me.
Don’t judge me by the actions of my brother
I am not him but a separate being, please, look into my eyes--
It is only then that I can actually be seen.

©2010 by Stacey L. Pierce
©2010 by 2sistaspublishing

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