Black Man White Man

Posted on by theoverflowingjournal

Black Man White Man

he was glowin
a man of melanin
proud of his skin

then came the White man
with a face full of hate
he beat him
he broke him
he spat in his face
told him he was dirty
humanity’s disgrace

the Black man smiled
he was not one to be beat
with pride and with love
he told the White man ‘no’
he knew he was worthy
for God told him so

the White man shook
for he knew he was right
and needed to feel mighty
so he led another fight

he hurt and he bruised
left the Black man in chains
he hunted and he killed
all out of contempt
for he knew the Black man’s power
and made another attempt

year after year
the fight carried on
with the Black man’s voice rising
‘why not just get along’

it is now 2020
the Black man has not broke
he may have been hurt
for the White man stepped on his throat
but his voice is not silenced
as it echoes
through many an anecdote

we hear you say
we hear you cry
oh Black man,
we promise to try

to tame this man of White
takes the courage of a country
but the Black did it
with no solidarity

we now stand
we now rise
as the next and final tide
against the violence of the White man
we hear you, oh man of melanin
we hear you cry

Train Wreck

Posted on by theoverflowingjournal

I want to write but it hurts too much and I slow down.
My engine sputters and my breathe slows.
the wheels screech and my lips part.
a sound

a piercing sound like no other
a deafening sound which fills my ears like cotton

burning my mind, like the fire sparking at the wheels

the weight
the weight tips me over
and the metal hub crashes
covering the terrible sound of sirens wailing in the distance

the rumble of the earth, the beating of my heart
it causes a great catastrophe
slowing
slowing
stopping.
done.

it is over. She is gone. I am dead.
They are too late. The damage is done.

We created a train wreck.

Poetry by Sunshine. Check out my page for more writings!

Without You.

Posted on by theoverflowingjournal

There are so many words on the tip of my tongue,
burning, pushing, crying to get out.
I find some spill over the edge of my lips, but it is never enough. Never enough to satisfy the need of communication.
There is so much to be said, with so many things I wish to clarify.

There is an aching desire to spill my thoughts and have my feelings gazed upon.
Yet if I were given the opportunity to speak again, I would be at loss of what to relay.

For these words come in many forms.

What would I speak of? Where would I speak from?
The sharp edges of the broken pieces of my heart?
Or perhaps the softness of my lips as I remember yours?
It may be from the tenderness of my touch as I think of your skin against mine.
These words may also overflow from my eyes in the form of tears as I remember the betrayal of those I loved most.

How will I choose to speak my feelings, given the opportunity?

Just as a bag bursts at the seams when too full, so do my lips as they part and the words come tumbling out,
too many rumbling inside of me to ignore.

In a case like this, I would have one wish.
Not to speak eloquently.
Not profess my undying love.
Not to announce my pain.

No.

My wish would be for you to understand the mess I am portraying.

My wish would be for my words to match my feelings and actions so that you may understand how I am feeling.

My wish would be for you to realize how I am living.
Without you.

Poetry by Sunshine.

All credit of artwork goes to original owner.

Artwork belongs to Instagram user @arthiyya