struggle

I’m An Activist, Not A Racist

Hold Up!
Just received a letter accusing me of being racist.
Hmmmm, sounds like we are making assumptions with no real basis.
You would be wrong all around,
because what I say you may not be ready to face it.
Read it thoroughly, it’s beyond race Miss.
My message of pride and empowerment is not pro-blackness.
You’re getting it mixed up with matter of fact-ness.
Me being racist is like spiting my face by cutting off my nose.
My chief editor is white, didn’t you know?
Isis Rain, a real soul sister understanding the plight.
The movement see’s no color; black, brown, red, yellow or white.
FYI, I love people of all colors. I don’t care, they can be purple or gray.
Hey, Joey tell your moms and brother I said what’s up! That’s my white homie from VA.
And let’s not forget my white ex-girlfriends, yeah some of them almost got me killed.
Father and brother Prejudice; hello Tiffany Wells in Lewisville.
My partner from the world, Joe Duffer a.k.a Jon B.
A white man I broke bread with, hmmmm… I guess you really don’t know me.
Just because I may be insolent, tactless, brazen or brash;
don’t misinterpret what I say, present or past.
I know, I know… on racial topics, I get a bit aggressive.
I’m atypical in my writing, not preaching hate, but I must remain progressive.
Humanity is what I love, that means ALL people.
I feel we are of one make, everyone is equal.
Though many of us were told and taught things
that were morally and socially wrong. It could’ve been through our
parents, friends, T.V., media, books and even through songs.
I couldn’t care less about the color of any person’s skin.
Deep down, whether you admit it nor not, we are all akin.
But, me being a racist just tickles me pink.
That’s a new one on me, something I hate to think.
Although you feel I am, I must be saying something right.
Otherwise most of my supporters and followers wouldn’t be white…

DeVyne Tha Messenjah

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My Struggle, My Shine…

Coming through the fire, I’m no longer in the game, I’ve grown tired.

Of running in the rat race, it’s time I find my happy place.

No more fussing and cussing, no need to justify my actions; end of discussion.

Time to care about me and mine, I’m done trying to change anyone else,

I’ve done my time.

With no appreciation, I am not a miracle worker.

My story will no longer be a tearjerker.

It will have a happy ending, way better than the beginning.

I have lived and I have learned, these stripes I have diligently earned.

But still, I carry my beauty, shining bright from within. Still determined to win.

But will be sure to do it in style. Look at my face; you won’t see a million miles.

From stress, making me look old. That’s why I have turned cold

to all the games and the lies.

You will see my story in my eyes, but it will be that of success.

As long as I keep being me, I will be blessed

in most things that I do. Trust and believe my words will remain true.

Sit and listen as I tell you my story, it will be about my strife and all about my glory…

– Isis Rain