StoneCutter (for my Sistas)

Like Pygmalion – who carved and shaped his love from stone

And wished it alive to love him back

I made you.

I Remember… when

I made you make the first hard decision

As a consequence of chasing golden empires and trying to touch Heaven with pyramids

When we had to seize power by seizing others –

And we sold them – and ourselves to them and to US

And, there was US stacked high and wide like warehouse products

Cushioned by screams and disease

In the dark...

And on the ship deck, weighing a future of plantations and ghetto fabulousness, you threw yourself and our children overboard

Rather be embraced by sharks than by sugar cane…

When after eons of oppression where I lost you-

Torn from my arms in East African slave ports and raped by a thousand Tom Jeffersons,

Left to be maids and factories for bodies to fill the cotton fields...

I continued to chip you out of stone, my chisel lubricated by tears whips and chains force me to cry

I created you and named you Isabel  and Araminta

And you were beaten and taken daily

Hewn out of granite by steel tools of hate

Until Cupid breathed life – and love into you

And so then you learned to name yourself –

Called yourself Sojourner and Harriet 

And you questioned if u were actually a woman and yet you led reluctant men to freedom,

Daring to kill anyone who turned back

But then I defined my newly found liberty by equating…

…Success by imitating…

…The people who could steal my own manhood and change my very name

So I took to Windsor knots and hair conks

Wanted my skin to look the hue of a brown paper bag and my hair like Clark Gable

And you?

You became typecast – Beulah and Jemimah

…and Mammy after Mammy

So I embraced dejection and anger and rejection

And I…became a pimp, player – and a hustler

My new name became Dolemite and Pootie Tang

And you became Cleopatra and Foxy

Tricking and tricked by Mister Charlie - 

Til you shot him of course with a gun pulled out of your afro

Yeah, but it was all bell-bottomed bullshit that had to be redeemed

By Angela/Assata/Maya

Oh, and Shirley, who ran for president long before the brothas did.

But damn she was ugly –

But they were all “ugly” – strong, angry and scowling back at all us brothas…

So... I had to smash that image,

Fill back in what I had etched out

So I gave it hips like Pam

calves like Tina

a voice like Eartha

Moves like Josephine 

Thighs like Mary J Blige

Later for that movement shit-

Gimme those thick black hips

Fuck that burnt bra and upraised fist

My chisel creates glistening sensual full black lips

No more afros, locks and twists

Drop a few bucks now on Indian weaves and 

Fake asses sewn into jeans

Before you know it I’m not a father any more –

I gotta settle for “Baby Daddy” cuz I got convinced

that a quest card is my adequate replacement

Here: hug on this block of govt cheese, Sister

Let it melt and keep you warm at night

While I’m away in prison with a million of my brothers

It’s okay, our kids will play ball for money

Or become rap stars

And eventually buy you houses

And you can star in their videos

And make your own money

Writing books on what celebrity you fucked

Stay in shape though – make that ass clap and

Drop it down low

Right down there with your credit score

My image has finally come to life

but me and it aint close no more

Our embrace is a formality 

cuz you can’t stand to let me go

And I have no idea how to stay

And the platinum and black diamonds 

are more important than your black arms around my neck

We don’t even make love

Because we haven’t even manufactured respect

I can’t touch your weave

And risk messin up your tracks

And you can’t risk scratching my back –

Cuz your nails might pop off

I am mad at the realization that
Nothing belongs to me so I don’t want you

And for some reason, you love me

And I want to hate you

But I can’t stop loving you back

I want to kiss you forever – and strangle you at the same time

I’m not really an artist am I?
I am a contradiction -

A sculptor with a blunt chisel and broken hammer

I’m a villain

A mad scientist

I’ve created you, a monster

You burnt my village and ran off with BET

You are a testament to my flawed plan:

I made you – and you turned out to be a cold and hard reflection of the sculptor himself

I made you…All without knowing what I myself am made of ..

I made you, and in so doing, all I ended up doing was unmaking myself

copright 2009, 2019 - Taj Ashaheed