Poem 6/6

All Black Lives… Matter?

Just because you’re black doesn’t mean you’re dumb,
It’s more about where you’re going than where you’re from,
Never look back once you make it to the top,
But that doesn’t mean forget what is easily forgot.

You’re black and you know you’ve struggled too,
Don’t ever think that someone else is better than you,
But never say that you know you’re better than them

Because – well, six warning shots in the back.

After the battles fought, all that is left is hatred and opinions,
And people like us,
Stuck with unanswered questions
And a truth that’s forever hidden

With a white man looking down the smalls of his glasses,
“The only thing worth any worth is anything but your black asses.”

To those that have fallen victim of anti-black racism, hate crimes, and police brutality.

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Poem 5/6

 

Frida Van Gogh

Allow the world to be your canvas.
Let your journey be your palette.
Paint it the color of your soul – make your mistakes – leave your mark.

Mix the vibrant colors and change the scheme, if you must, but do so because it’s your masterpiece and no one else’s.

Life is so precious.

Every breath – every moment – every opportunity is a gem, shining through your clenched hand.

There’s beauty and opportunity surrounding you.
It’s time you act accordingly.

Poem 4/6

 

Mainstream

In this life, I’ve learned that the world is relentlessly superficial.
Society has single handedly dismantled the authentic basis of beauty.

I realized that my soul was better off raw and unaltered.
I weep for the interrupted and scarred minds that have been branded by society and unknowingly sit idle while life passes by.
They are too oblivious to see that unrealistic seeps out of speakers and pictures, staining our minds like white linen.

 

True beauty is irrevocable.
True beauty gives.
True beauty is laughter.

Oh! To be as beautiful as laughter.

That, my dear friend, is beauty.

Poem 3/6

It’s Not You, It’s Me

Your gilded heart exudes pure intentions,

So please excuse my disposition that has been
Etched by my realities, and
Charred by my childhood.

I am a burning flame.
A flame that burns brighter than any heaven you thought you knew.
My warmth is inviting,
But you ought not linger too long.

You perspire chemicals.
Butane seeps out of your mouth along with your sweet nothings.

You are not welcome here.

P.S.

I know I may be cold and unreachable,
But with every fiber in my body,
Down to the quantum foam of my being,
I wish so dearly to be rescued.

Poem 2/6

Transginger, & so on

Cut cookies leap off of the pan,
Elated by their uniqueness.

White and pink frosting plastered on their smooth surfaces
Like a bursted bubble over lips.
It didn’t take long until they were lured into society,
Having their decorations stripped away with every
Naysaying opinion.

Tradition.

The crumbling cookies then inject themselves with
Serum of sameness – In a feeble attempt
To preserve their parts like cadavers in formaldehyde.

Bland. Tasteless.
But safe…

Forbid we insult taste buds with a flavor too sweet.

Virtual, Self-Assisted Poetry Reading

I stumbled across some of my old poems that I wrote during my undergrad years (which was about 1.0007 seconds ago). None of which are about anything of imminent importance, but interesting enough. I’m publishing one poem a day for the next sixatmine days.

Read them, love them, hate them, start dialogue, send them to your mom for her birthday…whatever’s clever.

Poem 1:

I wanted the truth to ring in your head like an ambulance siren
Shake your entire being.

Disoriented.
Discombobulated.

I wanted the truth to unshackle the             hesitations
and doubts that were bound to your chambered heart.

I extracted the most lovable parts of myself,
Spread them at your feet.
You tiptoed
Around them like petal-shaped landmines.

I was hugging a cactus…
but what a beautiful way to bleed.

Regretfully Yours,

Jasmine Jenkins