Desire

To be the object of desire What must it feel like? To want to be the object of desire Is a disease drilled into the mind You go round in blurry visions Only to come home to disappointment Like a period in The Handmaid’s tale To be the object of desire must be like Receiving…

You say I’m crazy

You and I, we didn’t make that vow Better for you and worse for me And centuries, years, later now It proves in the way it still hurts deep For years growing up I’ve had my fair share of doubts Denying every difference with a tear And sitting through the habitual silent blow-outs You say…

How to partake in liberation politics and not peddle anti-blackness – a reminder to myself and other non-Black people of colour

I write this blog post mainly for myself and to check my own privilege when I participate in emancipatory politics, and for other non-Black people of colour like myself. A few months ago, maybe more, I watched ’12 years of a slave’ which inspired a poem called ‘Dear White people’. It was a poem to…

Yes, we are angry

Yes we are angry We will remain angry Since our literal sense of being Our. Literal. Sense. Of. Being. Our literal sense of being Is determined by what happened to our pigments in history That dirty slosh of history? Yes, still bars us From a contented existence Who are we, we don’t know Too foreign…