I’d love to live freely. Not tied down by green faces, or white ones. Or the one reflected by mirrors. Or the ones in history books that have yet to be written. I’d love to be like Banjo. I envy him. I’d love to be light of so much more than skin. Being intoxicated by sipping on the richest experiences of life. Things that no amount of money can buy and no amount of color can taint. Loving the feeling of the sun hugging me from foreign landscapes. Loving the way water from the river washes away the fears and worries hidden away in the seams of my sleeves. Loving the way I am simply being.

I love the rain.
Everything about it.
The way every drop
That finds my skin
Sticks around just long enough
For me to smile and wave hello.
The way they adorn the
Hairs on my arms
Until they sparkle like grass in the early morning…
Nature’s dew-kissed diamonds on the
Greenest strings
Of Mother Nature’s lute
That harmonize
With earth’s steady, lulling melody.

I wonder what would happen if I just decided to call someone in the library. Using my phone.
I wonder what would happen if I put my phone on speaker when said person picks up.
I wonder what I would say to this person on the other line.
I wonder what the people in the library would say to me.
Wouldn’t that be funny, though?
Getting all the dirty glares and stares
Filled with so much spontaneous hatred and malice
That will wind up cursing my family line for 37 and a half generations.

I also wonder what would happen if… well, maybe I’m not the one to ask if you ever want something to do…

click. click. click click click.
crunch.
crunch. crunch.
cough.
‘choo.
cough.
tap tap tap tap.
cough cough.
click.
squeak.
zip.
press press.
press press press press.
backspace.
click click.
guitar ringtone?
shuffle.
whisper.
gulp.
sniffle.
knock knock.
come in.

I wonder what drums sound like in heaven.
Do they sound like raindrops kissing parched grounds
Like how they sound here?
I have heard the drums played in this way.
And it was beautiful.
It was comforting.
The constant oneness of the player to the set
Created a sense of a finite foreverness.

And I was a part
Of it all.
I was tangled in the overlapping rapping
Of the serene gentleness
Pacific as the bluest of oceans.

And I was at peace
With
Myself.
With
The world.

Being soothed by the hues of reds and blues,
The rhythm lead me to see
Behind my eyelids
A place that never appeared as beautiful as it did then.
Every tap coaxed me
To follow
This music
And let it take
My hand
In both of theirs.

Color-less inferiority
What is it?
If you take away every hue
Of yellow, red, brown,
And melanin-induced shade…
Really, what is it?
Am I “lesser” because
I wear a different shoe size?
A different jeans size?
Oh, I know… maybe it’s the amount of money…
But if you removed color from finance
Black people wouldn’t be in poverty because the face
Of Corporate America would no longer be
White.
Latinos, Africans, Asians… all equal.
So after the playing field is leveled,
What makes one less inferior than two?
We all breathe the same,
We have the same things
We’re made of the same stuff;
My blood is just as blue as anybody else’s.
In short, without race, societal inferiority would not exist like
We good ‘ole jolly “Americans” know it.
Interesting, huh?
I think so.

I love walking around campus with my afro.
It makes me feel like such an intellectual badass.
It makes me feel so edgy.
It makes me feel confident.
I have a reason for people to stare at me as they walk past.
And I’m okay with that.
Because
Afros are everlasting.
Even though my natural hair isn’t “afro-like.”
Never you mind, though, for I have witnessed and experienced the power of the mighty
Afro Pic.
It brings out the Angela Davis in me.
(Especially the writing aspect.)
I hope Reagan doesn’t read this. He might ban me for critically resisting to conform to societal norms.
But man, Davis’ afro was tight!
A fitting halo for  a sweet black angel.

I wrote a few poems earlier today.
That made me happy.
I read the poems that I wrote earlier today.
Nothing but smiles on this end.
I walked outside earlier today.
It is beautiful.
I woke up today.
That is something I must always remember to appreciate.
I got to all of my classes on time.
That within itself is a huge accomplishment.
I have kept my room clean for the second day in a row.
Round of applause for me.
I realized that I have so many reason to love myself.
So I do.

My hands aren’t dainty looking. I wish they looked more feminine. The noticeable lines etched deep around my knuckles and engraved in my palms must tell a story I have yet to write. Maybe they’re pages.