worries of a Rasta man



Polish till it shines, when you can’t even see it at night.

A blind spot as visible as a man in clean shave, white teeth, a suit, a shirt and a bad character.

The beautiful things in life, a car, a man in suit and living as if the good things are that which looks good.

When we pretend to be nice but he can’t, when we pretend we do, but a man in suit wouldn’t.

Black, white who cares!!

what happened to Color? sure we can pretend there are only two, sure others exist too.

Its weird as we fixate on them two and the harm they bring and we still call blue sad.

It’s not like the other is plain, but we are colored and we are just one of it, black.

There are two stages in a black man’s life, the day he was born and the moment he realizes black has been made the opposite of white.

No matter the color you prefer white always seems nice to them, I prefer black so I may remain spotless but you got to be bad to be black.

Why women would never marry right or men would never live as a choice but to please a woman who doesn’t even know what she wants.

I see them with mask on, telling the world there are bad people in it and it’s not them.

We can’t be free unless we are all free but like cowards we hide behind human faces and say he has a stand so he is judged, because he believes abortion is wrong, because many are scared they would lose because they are strong and powerful and are sadly rainbow.

Thank you Mr. World for a wonderful time, I enjoyed it but I had to hear the bell chime. The slumber was over, the center line view is over. We need not toll the same cue. As the pendulum swings from left to right it eventually settles and that’s a grey area.

Thank you Mr. World what a great person I am now? I love the sound of old women muttering those hateful songs. OH! How fast they would close their window as a response to a hello. Thank you Mr. World, did you just give me the booze so I would make a mess of myself

We can sit on the fence and think it is right, we might stand behind it and it doesn’t make it any right either, we may cross and still not be in the right position. But I know you know what right is?

I want to travel overseas, I want to write stories, and I want to sing songs. Write right my wrongs, I want to tell the world how I really hate it but love to stay in it. I just want to.


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