Black and Proud

Black and Proud
So confidently I may chant aloud
and stretch my voice until my void sound
comes into contact with its colour.

Black is my soul that is eternal,
black is coal that was originally
made from the elements of me.
Controversial this may be, black is my African brother who
staggers about the neighbourhood, inebriated.

Black are my roots, growing deeper and wider when inspected.
Black is the night ever so tranquil and collected.
By misfortunes and aftermaths of the day I get frustrated,
but looking within I can instantly summon the strength injected
by memories of my ancestors; from within it's embedded.

Black the originator, black the creator, black the beginning.
So powerful is its meaning.
Black was the earth before God uttered "let there be light".
In blackness the seeds of light lie,

Black is the pupil of my eye,
where there is an image of I.
I am the one responsible for tainting the sky.
I manifest amongst the stars and light, the finest
reflection. Black is my shoe that is why it lasts.

Black is my hair which represents my substantiality,
that's why it's hard to comb.
Black be buried, black be reincarnated
black be resurrecting in tomb.
Supernatural, more explosive than an atomic nuclear bomb,
But also soothing and modest while sometimes taken for granted.

Judiciousness comes first, but through blackness
and humbleness wisdom is collected. Black may be my thoughts
but effective verbs may be my swords
uttered intently from my vocal chords.

Truth may be spewed
Roads may be chewed
the colour of my skin is my witness.

Black is my ink that I bury on paper,
happier is the utterance and the message
that the words carry.
Recitations may be weary,
while every line endures its pleasure in the passage.

The black bondage that I am wearing on my visage
is a stitch that was used to cover mother nature's
wounds, before she became an alienated historical orphanage.
My rage has a superable and visible effect that every creature
experiences it when the hurricane and dark clouds rumble with eager.

I am black and proud,
I am deeper than what tympanic membrane and sound
can reach. More mystical and profound
than what the mind can imagine.
My blackness is a mystery, often misunderstood
Black is serene, solemn, and humble, capable of making the world spin.
The moon has my colour tattooed to its chest.