What Other Place Is More Mixed Up
Black is the color of my skin.
Well...
Not really 'black' black.
But kinda mocha.
You see,
My mother had been referred to as 'high yella'
And my father dark complected.
My sisters and I have this brownish tone.
My hair?
Nappy.
Well...
Not 'nappy' in the conventional sense.
You see,
I have dreads.
They look like braids.
But they are not.
My race?
Gee,
Let's see.
I remember when I was a 'kid'
I was then a Negro.
Then there was that dreaded 'N' word.
Then I became Black.
And 'proud' of course.
To be mistaken as an American Indian,
West Indian, Puerto Rican, Mexican...
And even Italian!
YES.
Because of my last name.
Well...what 'is' you?
Then I had an uncle,
Who thought he had to correct all of our dictions.
'Speak clearly! Enunciate.'
I would hate to visit my cousins.
'Is your father at home?
I hope not! '
Then there was a period when I was told,
'You think you white?
Trying to talk proper! '
Today?
I think more about getting my bills paid.
Or the ones I do pay.
I can not concern myself with race.
There are white folks wearing their hair in dreads.
Hair 'nappier' than mine!
Close your eyes and listen to today's music.
Is that Eminem? Justin Timberlake? Robin Thicke?
They sound better than some blacks that do it!
Madonna ain't no Beyoncé.
But neither is Patti a Gladys Knight or Chaka
Or Sarah Vaughn.
And that list can go on and on.
And Frank? Sinatra! Elvis, the Pelvis!
You know what?
With all this talk about color and race...
What other place is more mixed up than America?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Half my father
Half my father
Half my mother
My mother white as a ghost
My father black as coal
In my face the mixture glows
My skin is white
Still I am a black man
By the make of my nose
My hair is curly
My eyes are gray
Within me both if them lives
My mother’s race
Did enslave
My father’s race
Was never paid.
Still within I bare the two
Am O the new American?
My father is white
My mother is Korean
They met during the war
And I was born
Their only son
By my tone of skin
And by my eyes
You can tell
That there is a divide
And by my blonde hair
It is there for you to spy
Am I the new American?
My mother is German
My father polish
I learned three languages
As I grew older
Both of them
Did love me well
And of each country did tell
That I could draw
From each well
Am I the new American?
My father is Chinese
My mother Spanish
Both crossed over the Rio Grand
I am in the make of my father
But I have my mother’s brown skin
Am I the new American?
poem by David E. Patton
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Black or White - Political Correctness
Black, black is beautiful
All colours are meaningful
But Obama is not black, he is mixed race
Think about it; absorb this at your own pace
I'm weighing the two
Like I always do
In all fairness, in this world of madness
This is what I call 'Political Correctness'
Obama is not black but mixed race
Take a look at the color of his face
He is light skinned, not even dark
But they chose to call him black
I'm weighing the two
Like I always do
With a white mother and a father that is black
The ignorant masses prefer to refer to you as black!
Copyright 2008 - Sylvia Chidi
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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Zebra Child
I’m not black
I’m not white
I’m a Zebra Child.
My father skin is fare like a pinkish cloud.
My mother skin is dark like coco.
My skin is both swirled into a light caramel color.
I’m not black
I’m not white
I’m a Zebra Child.
My eyes are hazel with a hint of blue.
My hair is kinky yet manageable.
While I have African hips
I also have European lips.
I’m not black
I’m not white
I’m a Zebra Child.
I relish my difference
Although some times
I envy others similarity.
But I am what I am.
I’m not black
I’m not white
I’m a Zebra Child.
Black History
Boom, boom, boom!
That was in 1530 to the Slave Trade;
My Mama told me so,
My Papa told me so,
In the name of our ancestors gone by;
Slaves for arms,
Slaves for powder,
Slaves for hardware,
Slaves for spirits;
Boom, boom, boom! !
All over the West Coast of Africa!
Today, i am a Blackman to tell you a story.
Black History, the Black African, the Black Race;
Of my ancestors gone by,
Boom, boom, boom!
Black head, black sugar, black coffee;
Where are the true identities of the Blacks?
That was in 1530 to the Slave trade.
Black History, black love;
A Black Race to a call.
Tap your fingers and do think about it,
My Mama told me so;
Bllack shoes, black phones;
With the Black History gone too soon,
My Papa told me so.
Black hair, black eyes;
The black coal to steam up the engines!
In the name of my ancestors gone by;
But, where are the black pens of love to share?
Do think about this and learn from it,
Boom, boom, boom!
A Blackman in the house to tell us a story;
Where is William Wilberforce?
Where is Thomas Buxton?
Where is Granville Sharp?
What about the Slaves? !
These men need to tell us more;
They killed my ancestors softly without compensations!
Black love, black stream, a black home to live in;
Like 'Naughty By Nature',
I've got 'Queen Latifah' to tell us more.
Of the Black Songs,
Of the Black race,
With a Black-Limo to keep us going;
This Slave Trade was a Black History to us all.
Boom, boom, boom!
Do contact Africa to learn more from this;
Like a black bird, a black cat and the black fingers! !
Do contact Africa to see things for yourselves.
Oh Blackman,
When are they going to admit to what they did?
Like a Black Ninja in the house,
Do know your history before you destroy yourselves.
Boom, boom, boom!
The very sound of the Slaves marching on;
This is our colour and, we have to respect it.
Black Cop, Black Soldier;
A Black Marine to a call,
We still have more to learn from each other.
Black wine, Black Doctor, Black People;
Know all about your history.
About where you came from and,
Where you are today;
Black seed, black marble, Black Prophets!
We still have more to learn.
Slaves for arms,
Slaves for hardware,
Slavces for powder,
Slaves for spirits;
Boom, boom, boom! ! !
Black beauty, black sea, black pot;
Black Nurse, black melody, black stamp;
Know your history always.
Of the freed Slaves from England to Sierra Leone,
With those from America to Liberia! ! ! !
Today the Black Panther is here to stay like,
The Black Writer.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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What can I say of myself
What can I say of myself
That others has said of me
Even though they were always wrong
No, I do not grow a tail at night
No, monkeys have straight hair not I
They say that I abandon
My children for a jail cell in the company of men
They do not know that I do not hate my dark skin
It is the money of whites, their power
That denies me; keep me in the yoke of self hatred
They fear my power to survive
It is greater then their to enslave
Financially and sexually as is the American way
By my black American culture am I made brave
They think that I want their daughters and sons
To bring then over to the beautiful dark side
As they are entice by the art of being black
They want me to mount them to bring
Them closer to the animal that we all are
To praise me they say that I am to articulate to be black
And they want to know if this is my real hair
And they call my skull cap a doo rag
They tell me that they too love fried chicken
And watermelon and can get down with some corn bread and collard green
With smoked ham hocks or neck bones
They want to know why I am so angry
As a black man who should be prove to be born an American
And why I am acting white when I dress preppy
Why don’t I sound black over the phone
They want to know why I eat pig feet
They say that I should get over slavery
But not that the Jews should get over the Holocaust
They want to touch my hair
Their women folks are quick to commit crimes
And blame it on a black man
They think that the lighter my skin color
The less dangerous and friendlier I am.
They tell me that I got rhythm
poem by David E. Patton
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Nappy and Happy And Not Harried
I have never been 'black'.
Not midnight black.
Or even shown that,
At the crack of dawn.
I know that for a fact.
I would get up early to look.
And when I became African-American...
What happened to the West Indian part of me?
All I know is this,
Someone made an announcement...
And that part of my heritage,
Became a subdivision.
Like an urbanite separated...
From the others who surrounded,
In neighborhoods of suburban glee.
And when I wished to take all of that back,
To proclaim, in fact, I am indeed black...
It seems those who were lighter than I,
Wanted me to prove my loyalty too.
As if they had to approve...
My manner of speech,
And other things I chose to do.
I think they were trying to confuse me.
As confused as some of them appeared to be.
Sometimes when I did then reminisce,
The days of my youth I admit I missed...
I remember just being a 'Negro'.
And not have a concern...
On whose list I did not fit.
I was just 'Larry'...
Nappy and happy and not harried!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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A World of Diversity
The world is a spicy pot of diverse races
that exhibits colours pleasant on different faces.
Each race revealing features distinct and unique
of varying hair texture but uniform physique.
Oh yes, you know undoubtedly that I am black.
But still my black heritage does not prestige lack
because my black beauty is revealed in the dark.
Oh yes, you all know that I am Caucasian white,
with my magnificent ocean blue eyes for sight.
I am blonde, brunette and red haired with fair skin light.
Oh yes, you know that I am oriental yellow,
having traits distinct that nature itself did bestow.
We look alike but vary from fellow to fellow.
Oh yes, you know I'm middle-eastern or Indian brown.
I adore my skin tanned and hair black as a crown.
I have a pleasant heritage of Asian renown.
poem by Joseph C Ogbonna (9 May 2022)
Submitted by Joseph C Ogbonna
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~Reconciliation~
A black woman migrates to Europe
War devastated Germany in she finds a tolerant white widower to cope
Years some later a mulatto is born with arrear
Unluckily the newborn not so towards white but usual spirally knotted hair
She grows up and gets because of her white father´s repute a government job
Ego came out spontaneous in black aggression as corn on the cob
Her work by job agency comes mostly foreigners for demonstrations
Majority a jobless black immigrant who has not the lucky touch of Midas parentage in confrontations
She looks of blacks down and she herself is black
When asked to justify says she is more white hidden traits back
She repeats her satisfaction from day to day
Until she went to a white german barber for hair trim and foam some day
Your hair is another says the white old barber woman
I have no experience and i cut not those hairs as talisman
Go to a black barber she added
They understand more your hair as they the same headed
Black Is The Color Of My True Loves Hair
Traditional
Black is the color of my true loves hair
His face so soft and wondrous fair
The purest eyes
And the strongest hands
I love the ground on where he stands
I love the ground on where he stands
Black is the color of my true loves hair
Of my true loves hair
Of my true loves hair
Oh I love my lover
And where he goes
Yes, I love the ground on where he goes
And still I hope
That the time will come
When he and I will be as one
When he and I will be as one
So black is the color of my true loves hair
Black is the color of my true loves hair
Black is the color of my true loves hair
song performed by by Nina Simone
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Primer For Blacks
Blackness
is a title,
is a preoccupation,
is a commitment Blacks
are to comprehend—
and in which you are
to perceive your Glory.
The conscious shout
of all that is white is
“It’s Great to be white.”
The conscious shout
of the slack in Black is
'It's Great to be white.'
Thus all that is white
has white strength and yours.
The word Black
has geographic power,
pulls everybody in:
Blacks here—
Blacks there—
Blacks wherever they may be.
And remember, you Blacks, what they told you—
remember your Education:
“one Drop—one Drop
maketh a brand new Black.”
Oh mighty Drop.
______And because they have given us kindly
so many more of our people
Blackness
stretches over the land.
Blackness—
the Black of it,
the rust-red of it,
the milk and cream of it,
the tan and yellow-tan of it,
the deep-brown middle-brown high-brown of it,
the “olive” and ochre of it—
Blackness
marches on.
The huge, the pungent object of our prime out-ride
is to Comprehend,
to salute and to Love the fact that we are Black,
which is our “ultimate Reality,”
which is the lone ground
from which our meaningful metamorphosis,
from which our prosperous staccato,
group or individual, can rise.
Self-shriveled Blacks.
Begin with gaunt and marvelous concession:
YOU are our costume and our fundamental bone.
All of you—
you COLORED ones,
you NEGRO ones,
those of you who proudly cry
“I’m half INDian”—
those of you who proudly screech
“I’VE got the blood of George WASHington in MY veins”
ALL of you—
you proper Blacks,
you half-Blacks,
you wish-I-weren’t Blacks,
Niggeroes and Niggerenes.
You.
poem by Gwendolyn Brooks
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Not all blacks
Diamonds are black,
hairs are black,
eyes are also black,
but heart too black?
Bear no grudge,
colours matter less,
does mother throw her child?
if kid is black,
Colour may not remain and vanish,
body may still last but perish,
idea may remain and also cherish,
hatred may remain and us finish,
Body may change from time to time,
The color may fade with passage of time,
nature may not change even with time,
do our feelings change with time?
'Thy' may not appreciate,
human beings should not differentiate,
race, colour and abuse should not substantiate,
where will you seek refuge if atmosphere vitiate?
Let colour not dominate,
race should not subordinate,
let all come together and co-ordinate,
make use of all and not denigrate,
My God was black,
still was loved by many,
Poor are still not hated
even have no money,
I may say it loud,
May feel even proud,
Does that ring so sound?
Let love for all be found,
Let there prevail nationalism,
take credit with idealism,
rationale thinking and some rationalism,
”Ism” all over but term it patriotism,
Sentiments not hurt by calling black,
no wars be fought even stabbed from back,
always carry the ideas in your pack,
remain alert even if you draw a flake,
when out from mother’s womb or mines,
diamond or child will have no shine,
if go by sayings black will not to be liked
with shine in diamond, price will be hiked,
Neither the Black represent dark,
not the dark as word black,
Black may have kind heart,
white may have black,
So say not black is bad,
With black son don’t feel sad,
You will feel good with word dad,
without black or white you will go mad
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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The School System
The school system
was not designed for us
Mexican-Americans
america is not designed for us
in school we learn
about wars, time periods this and
that
in only two colors
white and black
racism comes in many colors
its just not between white and black
its more like human to human
there is racism between every
race
and Im tired of seeing media only focus on the two
how can I be motivated as
a Mexican-American when all
I read in class is about
black and white culture and
how they clash
the school sysem was
designed by whites and blacks
and not for us...
poem by Jeremy Rascon
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Black Days Of History
(10/25/12)
The black days of history that many do not know
And many refuse to accept - of how the black man
Helped AMERICA to be the greatest country yet.
They was brought here as slaves because the
Color of their skin!
But their minds was never searched to see
What lied within.
Every ethnic group that came to the states
Had many a hardship that they had to face.
Every race that came was given a derogatory name
Which they had to accept and had felt the shame.
But they all contributed to this great nation of ours
Which is now known as the greatest power.
These are just a few facts of what the blacks
Had given to this nation, and many of these
Became part of our salvation.
FACTS :) 1) john love- invented the pencil sharpener in 1897
2) Joseph lee -invented a bread making machine that mixed
The ingredients and kneaded the dough in 1895
3) Thomas l Jennings was the first African American to receive
A patent in 1821 which was for a dry cleaning process.
He used the money earned from his patent to purchase
Relatives out of slavery and support abolitionist causes.
4) madam c.j. walker (1867-1919) daughter of a former slave
Who suffered hair loss in her twenties and created hair care
Products, and allowed her to open a factory and school to
Train hundreds of black women to be economically self sufficient
And become one of the first female millionaires in U.S. history.
There is still something that burns in my heart
And when I think of it -it tears me apart
Of all the people in this great nation
That have been put to the ground
There lies one race that still lives
Way below the poverty line and
The government says there doing fine.
The "AMERICAN INDIAN" who had
Most all treaties broken and of this the
Government hasn't spoken.
Many families of five and more
Living in a shack without a door
Just a blanket to stop the wind
To me this is a crying sin.
The Indian charities having to buy
fifty five gallon drums for water
And many of them on "back order".
I know that I started writing this poem for the blacks
But on the Indian nations - I can't turn my back.
We have to help one another, for we're all
Sister and brother.
GOD BLESS US ALL
© L. RAMS
poem by Louis Rams
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I am a man of black and white
I am a man of black and white,
my name is written on the gates of the sky.
i am a man of black and white
my origin is united, yet two apart.
I speak the language of the whites,
but lost in the language of the blacks.
i am a man of black and white,
my resemblance is same with the blacks.
I am a man of black and white,
i was brought up in the land of the whites.
i am a man of black and white,
my home is in the south-east, in the abode of my black dad.
I am a man of black and white,
i love the aspirations of life.
i am a man of black and white,
although two apart, we are united as one.
poem by Randy Micheal
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Race:
Tell me who chose his race
Who has designed his face,
Before he was born?
Is it you?
Show me your race request!
Explain to me your color pallet
Why are you putting race first?
Did your ancestry choose
Their skin color?
Did color even matter?
Who gives you the right,
To discriminate against others?
Telling me we are "not equal"
Putting yourself against the bible
Get out of this circle
Get out of this bubble
This action is reversible.
So much taste of pain
Too much mark of chain
Not to remember, not to maintain
The spirit and the complain
To the next generation, you explain!
As it takes love
To love someone else
It takes more than love
To love who hated you
You have to embrace
A total different race
If you are a racist
You need God's grace
If you are a sexist
You are out of trace.
Little Richard created Rock n Roll
Who is control it?
British created Soccer
Who is best at it?
People lynched people
Over race
People burned people
Over sect
People killed people
Over religion
If you discriminate
You have lost the race
Under the skin we are one
Black, White, Spanish
Asian, Indian just name
Human being is universal
Living in peace is principal
With every race is just moral.
poem by Dieury Dumas
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Dark and white
Dark and white exist together
Both know well who is better
Yet one can feel always proud
It is look that spells sound
White does not mean simple peace
Dark does not seem gloom and unease
Both carry same meaning and exist
Lord has blessed both to prevail and greet
Same feeling, same aspirations and will power to fight
Choosing of course between wrong and right
What should be carried on is colorless race
Then you may find happiness on face
We have existed since centuries
Under gone pain and miseries
Our heart, eyes, hairs all black
Why not we prefer while blood and stake?
It is pure madness and senseless thinking
The thought in its inception is stinking
How can we be so choosey about natural color?
We are lovely kids from God and stay as flower
White color may appeal more on some basis
Yet black may protect you from some magic
It is our belief since very beginning
We all prefer dark clouds, black nights and stars shining
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Red
There are three colores,
Each a meaning,
in its own,
a little more important,
Than the rest.
White is calm, white is blank,
white is pure and white is clean,
white is the color of doves,
white is the color of here and there,
white is pure.
Black is dark, black is full,
Black is absent and black is stained,
Black is the color of night,
Black is the color of life and death,
Black is dark.
There is one other to say,
The one that flows within,
This color is not white,
but it is pure,
this color is not black,
But it is dark,
This color is all,
It is calm, it is blank,
It is dark, it is full,
both pure and stained,
clean and absent,
it is life it is death,
it is here and it is there,
this is the color,
of everything,
It is red.
poem by Rebecca Adams
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We Dream In Color
Dream sequence
(wake up, wake up, wake up, time to dream)
(wake up, time to dream)
We dream, we dream, we dream in color
Wake me up in the middle of the night, tell me what youve seen
Ivory clouds in a sea of blue, fields of endless green
But we lie here and we search for stars
Or big bad letters all the way from mars
The sky is black and the moon is pale, and we cry for this world of ours
In the dark we still believe (oh you know that we still believe)
In the dark we see
Chorus:
We dream in color - but we live in black and white
We dream in color - like a rainbow in the night
We dream of peace, we dream of love, but still the dream is not enough
We dream in color
Oh yes we dream
I wake up in the middle of the day, locked within this cell
The sun is weak on the gun gray street, a cold and concrete hell
So I close my eyes and remember the days
Of a blood red sky and a purple haze
The flag was yours and the flag was mine, but we let it fade away
In the dark we still believe (oh you know that we still believe)
In the dark we see
We dream in color - but we live in black and white
We dream in color - like a rainbow in the night
We dream of peace, we dream of love, but still the dream is not enough
We dream in color
(guitar solo)
This is where it all comes down, this is where the truth is found
Someones gotta keep this dream alive
We dream in color - but we live in black and white
We dream in color - like a rainbow in the night
We dream of peace, we dream of love, we dream of life!
We dream in color
We dream in color - we dream, yes we dream
We dream in color - but we live in black and white
We dream in color - and hold on to each other
We dream in color - lover to lover, sister to brother, we hold on
We dream in color
We dream in color - we dream
We dream in color - we dream...
song performed by by Starship
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Pinky, Pinky, what race?
Pinky, Pinky what colour….
We used to play as a child.
As a teen we learnt abt different colours
As an adult we came to know about race
We don’t play pinky pinky, what race? now a days! !
We accepted racism,
We were not surprised,
b’coz by then we were adult,
Started accepting things as it is,
We lost the habit of questioning everything as a child it seems!
In VIBGYOR tell me which colour is predominant, Is it white?
In rainbow which color has got high percentage, Is it white?
How can one discriminate among equals,
We talk abt racism, as an Indian we don’t follow it?
We hunt for white brides for our grooms, I may ask why?
The “foreigner look” still strikes in our mind,
We have built an attitude of inferiority among ourselves,
Chuck out that, come in light.
Don’t be under false notion of black and white.
Ignorance can be overlooked,
But racism under cover must come to book.
We tolerate that’s our guilt,
Stop it and instead shout for it!
(Related with recent attacks on Indian students in Australia)
poem by Tara Chettur
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America, So Beautiful.
Why is America the beautiful,
So beautiful?
It's because of German Polkas, and beer.
It's because of Irish corned beef, and potatoes.
It's because of French wines, and escargot.
It's because of soul food, from the hood,
The kind you find in Big Momma's,
In Cathedral City California.
It's because of Mexican food,
And the Mariachi's that accompany it.
It's because of the Hawaiian Poi,
And the Alaskan, fish ice cream.
It's because of the Italian Operas,
And spaghetti and meat balls.
It's because of the English language,
Brought to America,
By the subjects of the king.
America is blue eyes,
America is green eyes,
America is black eyes,
America is brown eyes,
America is blond hair,
America is red hair,
America is black hair,
And my all time favorite,
America is brown hair.
America is Japanese sushi,
America is Chinese hot and spicy soup.
America is mountains,
Beautiful snow covered mountains,
Shining in the sun.
America is deserts,
Hot arid and unforgiving,
And filled with life.
America is forests,
That extend,
'From sea to shining sea.'
America is ingenuity,
Great minds, from all over the world,
Reach their great fruition,
In America.
Where they are free.
Why is America the beautiful,
So beautiful?
It's because America is a rainbow,
Red, white, black, yellow, brown,
And all the myriads of colors,
These main colors produce.
It's so cliche to say,
We are a melting pot.
I prefer to say, What the great Bill Murray said.
'We are a mongrel race.'
Yet nothing on God's green Earth,
Is more loyal, more faithful, more loving,
And more devoted,
Than the mongrel.
America the beautiful.
poem by Juan Olivarez
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