Title: Little Black Boy
Posted On: 2015-04-12 20:15:56 UTC
Posted On: 2015-04-12 20:15:56 UTC
There was no man in my life that taught me how to love a woman There were plenty of uncles, cousins, and a father but still no man
Still, I only learned how to love a woman through my mother's tears and screams as a child
My aunt's divorces & heartbreak, my cousins raising children alone, and my own internal, chaotic energy as a flower too wild
Little black boys are only taught to conquer women in numerical sexscapades
Affection within brotherhood brings about the conversation of last days
Maybe I told Mariah to shut up consistently because I was taught that women have nothing important to say
Way too much aggressive soprano, inadequacy in listening to you and your mother pray
In the safari I continue to blossom as a little confused jungle flower
Yearning to express, taught that it's synonymous to cower
When your father dismisses your letters of affection and appreciation
There's a void filled with empty sex mixed with chivalry because I was taught to conquer women but I understand energy and it's combination
My hate for men came from some man trying to rip me out of the soil and another one not planting me right
My love for women came from a woman who fixed my stem and another one who peeled my pedals back every night
Not a rose from the concrete, a wild flower from damaged soil
Once upon a summer I rejected the teachings of hating women who's hair coils
To accentuate my affinity with oral sex and poetically naming it a flower
Maybe this urge for it isn't sexual, as I relate to a wild flower, maybe I crave who I am internally for hours
Watching orgasms escape from these flower beds
Baptized by these human-like goddess shower heads
Raised to see love as a result and not a pursuit
Realizing why I don't love me, maybe I'll know how to precisely love you
I love all my uncles, cousins, and my father
But I wasn't loved, you can't nurture plants with bad advice & liquor, only water
As I write this and these tears won't fall from this over aggressive upbringing
A dry bucket of tears turned over and made instrumental, creating bells that ring
They raised this wild flower in flames, is this really melanin from the homeland
Subconsciously yearning to be 1 year old me, long hair & loving, but not unplanned
The jealousy of how perfect my siblings upbringing will be
As a first born phoenix of collected chaos, love, and expression
I'll teach my child that love is not at all like congestion
I'll never dismiss my child's affection
I'll show you how to love
Your father, maybe a child of the blue
Childhood damage conversations will never consist of pieces from you
I'll let you be young throughout your youth
My wife, your mother, our queen, will love us
Her husband, your father, your King, will love us
Through mistakes & corrections, neglect & rejection, and expressive acceptance
You'll be a sublime flower that faultlessly blossoms
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