End-Word

"Nigga" is a spoken word...

A poem I wish I never heard

A haiku that tastes like a lollipop or butterscotch

With a bubble in it that cuts the roof of your mouth when you suck too hard on it

"Nigga" swirls an effervescent tingle at the back of your throat,

Before it backflips quick off the palette like a gymnast

Yet I wince, 

Every time I see white folks hear me and my niggas saying it

We use "nigga" like a slave masters last name

Both are lies about our past – that we adopt anyway

"Nigga" hangs in our mouth like niggas hung in the south

Nigga sticks in your skin like a splinter
Nigga sticks to the tongue like monkey bars in winter

"Nigga" is a culture cut off from its glory

So we make up a kunta kinte or kwanza story

"Nigga" is tale of regret with too many forgotten sequels

Like the one titled:

"White People First Bought Black People From Other Black People"

Funny how "niggas" think misspelled vernacular makes a word better...

Funny how "niggas" are not supposed to use words like vernacular...

See "niggas" be like blind mice

See how they/we run,

See us sell crack to our own color

Sometimes to our own mothers

Cuz "niggas" are near sighted and desensitized

Can’t see the blood streaming from the diamond eyes of their Jesus piece

But "niggas" do shine some times...

Though we only seem to get recognized

Playing the roles of mammies, slaves, butlers, and maids…

"Nigga" is the separate but unequal legacy of minorities force fed inferiority

And just look at what they market to "niggas":

Menthols, fake hair, cheap ass malt liquor

But aint we supposed be free?

Free to especially employ the jargon of Jim crowed jigaboos

Free to trade in our acres  for 40 ounces and drug mules,

While the revolution gets postponed...

A trade away for free agent contracts and million dollar homes...

See invisibility is not the devil's greatest trick

It’s convincing "niggas" that there’s wisdom hidden in ignorance

But maybe one day we’ll have ourselves a funeral

And bury "nigga" in a plot-

Next to the one they tryna dig in for "Redskins"

That will be the day when we’ve stopped-

Forging justifications for linguistic self- mutilation

A day we let go of

“We’re-taking-the-hate-out-of-the-word” claims,

 When we stop using apostrophe's and liquor brands for our kids names,

When we stop thinking the Underground Railroad had a goddamn train.

A day to come when we do what Lincoln said and cast off the last garment of slavery

And we stop giving him adulation for his relunctant emancipation

A day to come when "niggas" pull more weight than they push

And pull less on triggers,

Making "nigga" a poem whose verses are fading away into a whisper

A day to come when "niggas" finally find their destiny and become 5/5ths free,

And turn oh-so finely into:

PEOPLE…

(c) Taj Ashaheed, 2013

         

a love poem, maybe...

I was supposed to write a love poem 

not sure where to start

How do i fit a mystery
into a haiku or a ballad

Or find the the real love I really want?

That  psycho crazy love,

When all I been finding is crazy psychos

I’m supposed to write a love poem...

But love takes an alchemist

To mix chemicals together 

like the government,

Mixes to make the weather...

They say love at Stage 2

Is activated by norepinephrine,

Same thing as the adrenaline

That why insteada running away,

This mix of toxicity

 Makes your dumbass stay  

And this explains why love sucks soooo much,

Like homework does

Got us all riding on that short bus

Looking to get the love Megan Markle does

And now prince harry got us out here contemplating

That marrying a black girl 

Is the new "acting white"

Got us exing out Tiger and Wesley Snipes

I want THAT kinda love ,

Like Rachel Dolezal 

Loves being Black more than lil Kim does,

Like DMX loved crack

 more than he did rap

That’s not really an insult

I just want someone to be addicted to  me

Without adverse side effects, thrown dishes or curses

So I can put that shit in free 

and/or measured verses…

I been tryin to write a love poem

But my baby mama told me black men are the #1 killer 

of women her color

So the moral of that story

Is the most dangerous thing 

I have to protect her from

Is me

So technically, we will never be WE

Since I’ma sorta coronavirus, I guess I gotta 

Date outside my race just to get the vaccine For this love Jones

While she complaining 

About spending Friday nights alone

Stood up on Valentine’s like brooms on the previous Monday

I’m supposed to write a poem...

About love...

But what the hell is dat shit?

We still think it’s brought to us by cupid

But really... if a flying baby runs up me

 I'mma beat it down with one of those broomsticks so fast...

I’m supposed to recite a love poem..

But I don’t have none to offer

I’m so caught up in envy, waiting for

Someone to give to me

The type of love like rkelly fans give to that man

Unconditional like Coloradans  wearing khaki shorts in winter

I want

Someone give me the love like my diabetic uncle does

Who gave up his whole left foot just to eat a cinnabun

We all thought that one astronaut was crazy

Driving across country out of insane jealousy

Wearing a diaper so she could drive straight thru

Standing there in shitty underwear declaring 

u have no idea now how much I really love you

Yep, that heffa was crazy af but secretly

That’s exactly the kinda love I want for myself

Im supposed to write this poem

But no matter how many halmark cards

Or Mary J songs come out
I can't find enough to write a  poem about

Im supposed to write this love poem

But i been married 3 times
Even once had a pair of co-wives
And all i learned was that
Love is a dance with betrayal
Lies, and county jails

A dance that ends with you
looking like an uncoordinated idiot

As you spray blood on everybody while you jump up and down
Because of the knife sticking out your back

Matrimony is a phony
love triangle between you, lawyer fees, and alimony
AS well as the polygamous intercession
Of government intervention

And when the fat lady sings that it's all but over
you get to watch yo ex  fear being so lonely
She breaks code and hooks up with your homie

Maybe love is theoretical -
Like your mama's love...
But I don't know - mamas don't always stay
Or they are like mine - they give you away

Maybe love is geometrical 

Beginning at one point
And at the other, extending into forever
Like when you first saw her smile and your life
Melted and merged into hers

Maybe love is just hate hating hate
My own hate of love
Makes me think single is safe
As i found myself digging my manhood into wombs
Like a shovel digging my own grave

Because love is a piece of ebony
dipped in gasoline
set ablaze spitting sparks and flames
setting the world ablaze

Im supposed to write a love poem
But im afraid the verses on paper
will scream and curse
leaving 3 degree burns
on the retinas of the reader

But wait - I almost forgot in my new old age

I had this new life on the way
So I got a big pair of speakers

For baby mamas belly
So he could hear every poem I've written or spitted

And when my kid turns 2
Ima give him a flame thrower 

And some blank paper
and let him write the love poem i never would
Cuz like everything about his life
compared to mine
He's definitely gonna know how to write everything I've done - but way better than I ever could...